Yesterday, my mother and I donated two silk dresses to the Wistariahurst museum in Holyoke, Ma. We were skeptical that the dresses were actual Skinner silk, but the museum curator seemed very excited to see the material and glady accepted the donation.
As we drove home from Holyoke via North Hampton/Bernardston/Keene we passed what was verifiably a "Mountain Man". He must have stood 6.5 feet tall and hosted a beard down to his chest. Clothes of brown and green with a wide-brimmed, pressed-felt hat, he was adjusting something in a green duffle. Apparently walking up Rte 5. But to where? With a sense of what should or shouldn't be done, my mother kept me from stopping the car. It's ok, I would have made a fool of myself, treating this human as a tourist attraction, asking to snap his picture as if he were the latest to come through with the local carnivale. (Step up! Step right up, ladies and gentlemen. Have your pict-chah taken with a real, live man of the mountains! Marvel at his weathered complexion, formed from years wresting the effects of nature! Oh, don't be afraid miss, he could protect you from a howlin' angry cougar, but wouldn't lay a hand on another human bein' in anger. Step right up!)
Now, this man could be the most genteel person on the face of the earth. But, in his honor, inspired by the figure he formed in my side view mirror as I continued to drive, I bring you: the hillbilly name generator.
| Your Hillbilly Name Is... |
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I'll be back later with photos of the museum and more about donating the dresses. (And, my tenuous connection to the Bush clan.)
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