The Definition of a Holler

Written by Roberta Stephens—with Eddiee Brown.

Someone from outside my area recently asked me about our Appalachian hollers, and I have been thinking of how to best describe them to those not familiar with them. The simple answer is that a holler is a lane that follows a narrow valley between the hills. But if you're from the hills of Appalachia, you know there's much more to a holler than that.

Most hollers are just dirt roads with a bit of gravel spread on them now and then. They were never intended to carry heavy traffic. A holler is generally very sparsely populated because that's the way we like it. We guard our privacy and we're pretty wary of strangers. Often there's not another house in sight of your house.

But we still know our neighbors, and when one needs help, you help. If someone is sick in the holler, then you pitch in to help until they get back on their feet. If someone has a problem, then you listen. When someone claims you as a friend, then you're loyal. And if you make a promise, then you'd better make good on it.

There aren't any mansions In a holler. Most houses in a holler are modest ones. And almost everyone has a barn, and a couple of other outbuildings. Some have chickens and cows and goats and a couple of horses. And they all have at least one dog that runs to the road and barks at every car that passes by.

Most people in a holler have a front porch. And they actually sit on it. They shell peas and string green beans and peel apples on the porch. And people stop by and sit on the porch with you. And in the dusky evenings, they come with fiddles and flat top guitars and five-string banjos. And, good Lord in heaven.....what music they make! Sometimes the music drifts up and down the holler and it's so pretty it just makes you want to cry! But instead of crying, you find yourself humming along.

A lot of the houses in a holler have been occupied by several generations of the same family over the years. There is comfort in living in the house where your grandpa was born, or playing in the creek where your daddy used to swim. Something stirs down deep inside of you when you know you're walking in the steps of your forefathers. And you never really feel alone as long as you know that your people lie buried on top of the hill that holds you so closely. Never underestimate the way that the hills cradle you. They will rock you to sleep at night, and awaken you in the morning with a happy heart and a joy in your soul.

If you live in a holler, you get recognition every day. And you're never invisible. People always wave at you when they see you on your porch or in your yard. And if they don't see you outside, then they will blow the horn when they drive by your house....just as a way of saying "howdy". And if a few days pass and they don't see you, then they'll stop by to check on you. You can count on it. And you can count on them.

If anyone invites you to have a meal at their table...accept their offer quickly. And if it's a house where an old woman runs the kitchen, get to the table just as fast as you can. And get ready to be amazed! Because if you live to be a hundred years old, you will never have a finer meal than one served up in an Appalachian holler.

There is a certain etiquette adhered to when you drive up or down the holler. If you meet another car in an extra narrow spot, then one of you has to back up to a wide spot so the other can pass. And when you are finally able to pass each other, you stop and roll the car window down and you talk until another car comes along and you have to move on.

If your neighbor slides out of the road in the winter snow, or if he gets stuck in the mud, then you try to push him out. If you're unable to push him out, then you get your tractor out of the barn, attach a big chain, and pull him out. Again...it's just common courtesy.

If someone in the neighborhood dies, you get to their house quickly with huge boxes of food. You make a pot of coffee. And then you make another one. And you stay beside your neighbor for as long as you're needed. You don't even have to say a word, you just have to be there.

There are other unwritten rules to holler-living. If a forest fire breaks out, you become a firefighter. And not just to save your own house, but to also save all the other houses in the holler. If the creeks start rising, you don't leave anyone behind to face the muddy waters alone. And when storms come, and they will, you will find no better friends than the ones who are going through the same challenges that you're facing.

There's a lot more to be said about an Appalachian holler, but if I don't tell you another thing, you need to know that a holler is more than a narrow isolated lane that runs between the hills. A holler takes you to the place where you have always been loved and where you'll always be welcome. A holler takes you to the place where you can find comfort and peace and a sense of belonging. It takes you to your roots and to your family and to the truth of who you are. A holler takes you home.