Um, Why Are You a WITCH?

Okay, so a few people, especially those fellow Catholics, may be wondering why the title of my blog is "The Witch of the Appalachians." The explanation is two-fold. It is a literary allusion, but primarily, it is a nod to my ancestry.

First, the literary allusion. In Byron's Manfred, the Faustian main character has an encounter with the Witch of the Alps. The Appalachians may not be quite as grand as the Alps, but we have our pride, okay?

As for my ancestry, no, I don't have any actual witches back there...that I'm aware of...but plenty women have been called that and probably other things, too. However, the one person I had on my mind when I came up with the title was Grandma Sally. She is my great-great-grandmother, and she was a Cherokee medicine woman. In a time when there were few to no physicians to care for the people and their medical needs in the mountains, she used her knowledge and skills, learned from the time she was able to walk and talk, to treat, heal, deliver babies, and care for the folks in the "hollers" and hills for miles and miles around. Because she relied upon extensive herbal lore, she gathered fresh plants and herbs and used her kitchen to hang and dry them. My dad remembers her from when he was a small boy, and he said that a lot of people, while respecting her knowledge, were also afraid of her, and whispered that she was a witch.

I spoke with other relatives who remember Grandma Sally, and they, too, said that many people whispered this very thing about her. She was not a gregarious, talkative, friendly person. She was introspective, serious, and when pushed, had the very Devil's own temper. One of her sons was shot and killed in a feud, and she would often grab her gun and threaten to go kill a member of the rival family in revenge, even years later. It would take several of her other sons to hold her down. After dark, members of that rival family stayed in their holler, for fear that the "witch" would curse them.

There are many other stories about her. The darling Czech Pecker says that every time he hears another story about Grandma Sally, he understands me a little bit more. Now, I wonder what he means by that?