SUMMARY

Roca News explores Kentucky's Appalachia, meeting Dellie Schwer, a resilient mountain man embodying fading traditions amid poverty, drugs, and cultural shifts, sharing stories of self-sufficiency and nature.

STATEMENTS

• The traditional Appalachian mountain man lifestyle is disappearing due to development, technology, drugs, and poverty, threatening its core elements.
• Dellie Schwer, a 46-year-old self-described redneck, grew up on a self-sufficient farm raising hogs, growing food, and making cornmeal, but notes such practices are nearly extinct today.
• Drugs like meth, heroin, and fentanyl have devastated Dellie's community, killing many friends and contributing to widespread deaths in the area.
• Hollers are narrow valleys between mountains where Dellie was born and raised, allowing easy navigation through the hills on foot.
• An historic iron ore furnace from 1868, built by slaves without mortar, stands as a remnant of Appalachia's industrial past on what was once Dellie's family land.
• Population in the hollers has thinned from over 3,000 people to sparse settlements, with ruins of old homes still visible in the woods.
• Dellie walks 11 miles to the nearest town for groceries, taking about 2 hours and 45 minutes, due to his broken-down car.
• Wildlife encounters, including seven bear sightings in Dellie's lifetime, highlight his fearless connection to nature, where he approaches hawks and owls without fear.
• Poverty persists despite hard work, as traditional jobs like tobacco farming and hay baling have vanished, leaving few opportunities.
• Dellie volunteers at a church food bank, serving up to 800 people monthly, a sharp increase from 400 when he started, amid rising homelessness.
• Appalachians are defined by being born and raised in the region, embodying country values, distinct from newcomers regardless of their backgrounds.

IDEAS

• Self-sufficiency in Appalachia once meant growing all food and curing meats at home, but now it's rare, with communities relying on distant stores.
• Drugs have infiltrated remote hollers, turning vibrant social hubs into ghost towns where once-busy parking lots are empty.
• Walking long distances through rugged terrain builds intimate knowledge of the land, allowing shortcuts that cars can't match.
• Historic sites like slave-built iron furnaces reveal layers of forgotten labor and family ties to industrial eras long gone.
• Nature's abundance—squirrels, rabbits, bears—provides sustenance, yet modern fears prevent many from embracing wild foraging.
• Generational age gaps, like Dellie's father being 62 at his birth, create unique family dynamics and inherited stories of resilience.
• Influx of outsiders, including Amish and tourists, reshapes isolated areas, blending old traditions with new economic pressures.
• Traditional remedies like groundhog oil offer quick, cheap cures ignored by modern medicine's high costs and delays.
• Bonfires and communal gatherings foster peace and connection, contrasting urban stress with simple mountain harmony.
• Personal purpose often emerges from loving one's work, whether planting roses or helping neighbors, turning hardship into fulfillment.

INSIGHTS

• True self-sufficiency fosters independence but crumbles against societal forces like addiction and economic decline, isolating communities further.
• Fearlessness toward wildlife and nature builds profound empathy, turning potential threats into harmonious relationships absent in urban detachment.
• Historical landmarks embody layered identities—indigenous, enslaved, familial—reminding us that land holds collective human stories beyond ownership.
• Poverty's paradox in hardworking regions stems from lost industries, showing how cultural strengths like diligence fail without systemic support.
• Volunteering amid scarcity reveals innate compassion, where giving sustains giver and receiver, countering despair with communal bonds.
• Searching for divine purpose in humble settings underscores that meaning arises not from wealth, but from authentic engagement with one's environment.

QUOTES

• "Two drops of ground hog oil will cure the inner ear infection and it will do it in less than 10 minutes."
• "I can walk up to hawks and owls, you know, no problem... that bird don't belong in no cage no more than I do."
• "If more people have that attitude, right? You know, they wouldn't be so stressed and anxious. I mean, you know, I'm all about peace and love and about helping people."
• "Nobody loved that piece of land no more than me, except for one, and that was the man I was named after, my father."
• "Whatever you're doing, love it. Do it to the best that you can."

HABITS

• Walking long distances daily, such as 11 miles to town, to maintain mobility and connect with the landscape.
• Foraging and hunting fresh game like rabbits and groundhogs for meals, avoiding processed or roadkill options.
• Volunteering weekly at a church food bank to distribute aid, fostering community support despite personal poverty.
• Building fires in natural spots for reflection and gatherings, using them as evening rituals for peace.
• Approaching birds of prey calmly to interact closely, reflecting a lifelong practice of fearless nature engagement.

FACTS

• The iron ore furnace in the area was built in 1868 by slaves using stacked stones without mortar, operating briefly before abandonment.
• Dellie's father was 62 when he was born, resulting in siblings 40 years older and nephews older than him.
• Over 3,000 people once lived in the hollers near the furnace, but the population has drastically declined, leaving ruins.
• Homelessness in Dellie's small town exceeds 560 people within city limits, not counting rural cases like his.
• Groundhog oil, derived from frying the animal, separates into lard and oil, with the latter used medicinally for ear infections.

REFERENCES

• Daniel Boone National Forest, encompassing the historic iron ore furnace land signed over by Dellie's father.
• Trump "Come Back" hat, symbolizing mixed political views on policies affecting veterans and social services.
• Church of God food bank, where Dellie volunteers, highlighting community aid efforts.
• Alers's Gate Methodist summer camp, established in the early 1970s near the hollers.
• Kentucky Colonel honor, awarded to Dellie for his intelligence and community spirit.
• Cobill store and cemetery, remnants of past local commerce and family burials.

HOW TO APPLY

• Embrace walking as daily exercise by mapping out long routes through natural terrain, like Dellie's 11-mile treks, to build endurance and mental clarity.
• Practice self-sufficiency by learning basic foraging, such as identifying edible plants or game, to reduce reliance on stores and connect with local ecosystems.
• Volunteer in community aid programs, starting with weekly shifts at food banks, to give back and combat isolation in tough times.
• Cultivate fearlessness toward nature by approaching wildlife calmly, studying animal behaviors to foster respectful interactions rather than avoidance.
• Infuse love into manual tasks, whether gardening or repairs, by treating them like nurturing relationships to ensure success and personal satisfaction.

ONE-SENTENCE TAKEAWAY

Embrace Appalachian resilience by living fearlessly in nature, helping others, and finding purpose amid poverty's challenges.

RECOMMENDATIONS

• Explore remote areas personally to appreciate fading cultural traditions before they vanish entirely.
• Support local food banks in underserved regions to address rising poverty and homelessness directly.
• Learn traditional remedies from elders to blend folk wisdom with modern health practices.
• Prioritize community gatherings like bonfires to rebuild social bonds eroded by isolation.
• Advocate for policies preserving rural jobs, recognizing hard work's value beyond economic output.

MEMO

In the shadowed valleys of eastern Kentucky, where hollers carve deep into ancient mountains, Dellie Schwer navigates a world on the brink of erasure. At 46, this self-proclaimed redneck embodies the vanishing archetype of the Appalachian mountain man—a figure sculpted by self-reliance, wild encounters, and unyielding hardship. With his car long broken and cell service a distant dream, Dellie walks 11 miles to the nearest town for groceries, his steps tracing paths known only to those born in these parts. Yet poverty clings like mountain mist; drugs like meth and fentanyl have claimed friends and hollowed communities once buzzing with evening chatter.

Deeper into the holler, Dellie's tales unfold like the layered slag from a long-dormant iron ore furnace. Built in 1868 by enslaved hands stacking stones without mortar, the structure looms on land his father unwittingly deeded to the federal government, now part of Daniel Boone National Forest. Dellie's heritage weaves Scots-Irish, German, and Cherokee threads, echoing arrowheads and spear points unearthed nearby—remnants of indigenous wars predating the furnace's brief roar. He recalls a time when over 3,000 souls thrived here, baling hay and topping tobacco; now, ruins dot the woods, and newcomers—Amish from the north, transplants from Maine—dilute the old ways with tourist dollars and summer camps.

Nature, for Dellie, is no adversary but a companion. He's faced bears seven times, approached hawks without flinching, and once petted a doe in winter's hush. Groundhog oil, a folk elixir from fried lard, promises earache relief in minutes, a stark contrast to doctors' bills and delays. His "castle"—a charcoal house ruin where he kindled fires at 12—hosted wild parties, a testament to youthful defiance. Yet compassion tempers his outlaw spirit; as a Kentucky Colonel, honored for smarts over status, he volunteers at a church food bank, now feeding 800 monthly amid 560 homeless in a speck of a town.

Poverty's grip confounds the hardworking ethic that defines Appalachians, Dellie muses. Tobacco fields lie fallow, jobs snatched by outsiders, leaving him roofing sporadically or mowing lawns. Still, he plants roses with love, watching 40 bushes flourish where others fail, insisting success mirrors child-rearing: nurture what you cherish. Politics stir mixed feelings—a Trump hat nods to some policies, but cuts to Medicaid sting the vulnerable he aids. In a converted chicken coop, storms rage outside, yet Dellie sleeps soundly, fearing only the divine.

Dellie Schwer stands as Appalachia's poignant paradox: a man of profound wisdom forged in want, where bears roam freer than opportunity. As hollers empty and traditions fade, his story urges a reckoning—with the drugs devouring youth, the purpose seekers like him still chase, and the resilient soul that refuses to break. In these mountains, survival isn't just endurance; it's a quiet rebellion, planting seeds of love in rocky soil.