March's Featured Appalachian!

     If time permits, I would like to do a monthly appreciation post for some folks who have lived/worked/shaped Appalachia. I figured a great place to start would be with my paternal grandfather, with whom I am very close, Gilbert Eugene Thomas, or as we've always called him Papaw Gene.

     Gene Thomas was born in 1941 in Craigsville, West Virginia. His parents were Brady and Edna Thomas, and he was the fifth of seven children. They lived on a farm, and everyone had their chores to attend to before and after school, such as feeding the animals and working in the corn field. School was the type of one room schoolhouse, lunch in a tin bucket, walking a mile in your bare feet sort of setup. 

     Gene attended school up to the 11th grade before joining his father and older brothers in the coal mines. He married Alice Griffith in 1965, and they moved to Columbus, Ohio soon after, where he drove a freight truck. While in Columbus, their first son (my father), Dave was born. When Dave was 1, they moved back to Craigsville, WV. They had two more children, and eventually they ended up in the house that I would grow up in. 

Gene and Alice

   Gene and Alice were married for 30 years. After their divorce, they both remarried, but they remain good friends. Gene continued working in the mines for over 35 years. From what I understand, he was never involved in any sort of major accident, but he tells me he still has nightmares about the mines caving in. He was never drafted for the war due to a heart complication he got from having measles as a child. 

Left to right: Gene and his 3 children, Shelly, John, and Dave.

     Now that I've given you some background, let's get to the fun stuff. For awhile after his divorce, my Papaw Gene lived in a camper in my backyard, where I eagerly waited for him to return from the night shift early in the morning to take me for walks. We walked up the road to where his friend lived. He was a beagle breeder of sorts, and his name was Shotgun. Hounds and Shotgun, I kid you not. He used to babysit us after school, (at this point we lived a few houses apart in the same neighborhood), and I broke my arm riding a bike down the hill behind his house. 

     

Gene and granddaughter Bethany (me!) in 1996??? 

    I'd also like to mention how my grandpa is essentially immortal. Like I said, he survived 30+ years in the coal mines (under canary-style safety regulations). He also was pretty banged up when a tire he was filling exploded, and he was hit head on by a drunk driver in a cloth-top Jeep. He came away from all that relatively unscathed. Granted, he has the usual health issues you'd expect a 72-year-old to have, but to call him a tough old bird would be an understatement. 

Gene and granddaughter Bethany (me!)  in 2014.

      I call him about 3 times a week, and he always takes me out to lunch when I'm in town for a visit. He's pretty rascally, and he always slips me some "lipstick money" before I go back to school. He hates snakes, loves Brussels sprouts, and he has a tall tale for almost any topic you can think of. He's grandpa to all the kids in the neighborhood, but he has 8 biological grandchildren, and 1 great-grandchild. 

Gene and great-granddaughter Bristol.

      In summary, my grandpa is one of my all time favorite people, and I'll bid you farewell with one of his favorite phrases: "Don't take no wooden nickels!" 

Do you have a story about your favorite Appalachian? Do you have pictures or stories you'd like to share? Feel free to get in touch at mountainbloodwv@gmail.com.