Only in the Valley

I got this photo and text from my daughter's phone this afternoon: "Only in the valley would we consider this a method of 'fixing' things."

I love the valley. It's been my home all my life. I do get weary of its simplicity, though. I'm tired of hearing, "You should of went," and, "I seen it," from the great, great grandchildren of the coal miners who settled here, but who had at least the excuse of not having had the opportunity to learn correct English. I'm sick of being asked, "Can I get yuz (Plural of "you.") started wit [sic] some drinks?" when I go out to eat.

It's sad that my kid who's majoring in actuarial science still thinks of home as a place full of dunderheads who will never climb out of that coal mine. When I listen to the yard full of kids playing basketball in the neighbor's yard next door, though, I can't blame her. I think they're all going to grow up to be hydrant decorators too and unless somebody makes that pursuit into a reality TV show I don't think it's going to be all that lucrative in the long run. On the bright side, I do believe they have the full vocabulary for it already. They must be fast learners. Gifted, even! And to think, not one of them ever gets off the school bus with any books!