The Hatfields-McCoys and Me

It is interesting that the History Channel's interpretation of the Hatfield-McCoy Feud has captured the interest of so many people.

The story is legendary and there are more legends and lies than real history. However, history is written by the survivors and get to tell their side – no matter what really happened.

Set your thinking to the correct description of these folk. They were not southerners and they were not hillbillies. They were Appalachian Americans. They had settled in some of the toughest land in the United States, had learned to subsist and procreate and they knew how to fight.

The real origin of the feud is lost to history. Some say the fight began over a pig, some say a mountain version of Romeo and Juliet started it all and it may have been plain meanness.

It does not take much to start an argument and forgiving and forgetting was preached but hardly well-practiced.

Then, there's me. I am one of those people related to both families. I guess any inner conflict or mixed emotions can be traced back to that lineage. The only modifiers I have are the predominant German genes that excuse any of my contrary ways.

There's more McCoy blood in me than Hatfield, but many of the McCoys I knew were pretty tough birds.

I have walked many mountain cemeteries where the Hatfields and McCoys lay together. Sometimes they were segregated and sometimes the headstones had both names on them.

It is interesting that there is a Hatfield-McCoy Festival. I might go or I might not. In any case, I won't be taking a pig or packing a weapom. © tim www.timjohnsonphoto.com