There’s a place in West Virginia that will always live in my heart, even if it no longer belongs to my family. My grandparents’ farmhouse stood sturdy against the wind for decades, its white paint peeling in places, its porch swing creaking like it was whispering old stories. The land around it rolled gently into the hills, with fields that blushed green in spring and burned gold in autumn. It wasn’t just property, it was memory, heritage, and the heartbeat of our family.
I discussed this farmhouse in my genealogical based presentation, Hillbilly Highway. My mother, aunts, and uncles discussed the farm and how it was my grandfather's dream... And they lost it to foreclosure. An extremely low monthly payment, then, that now, the land gets over $250k in natural gas underground. They would have been "money rich" if they could have kept the farm. And, they probably would not have divorced.



