True story from my undergrad days circa 1975.

I was born in WV but never lived in the state. My late mother was from Pocahontas County WV and the nearest hospital happened to be across the WV line, which was a mere 5 miles from my Virginia home.

As a VT undergrad, several weekends I vamoose campus and head to the hills to see the folks. Most Saturday evenings during my visits I’d slip across the WV boarder to the Marlinton Motor Inn for a drink and a dance (18 was the drinking age as some of you can recall). I’d always tell the parents where I was headed and that I’d see them Sunday morning for an early breakfast.

One particular Sunday morning, after a night of WV laced semi-debauchery, I went to the kitchen to greet my mother, have breakfast, and visit with her and my dad. Mom asked if I had a good time last night. I quickly replied yes; I met a gorgeous, tall, magnificently constructed, and outwardly bright young lady. I got her name and phone number. My mom asked her name. “No son, she is related.”

I still have no clue of how many relatives I have in WV. I visit the state often, to dig ramps, bird watch, fish, and sometimes grocery shop, since it is so close to where I grew up and retired.

From my interactions with the grocery store staff and other mountaineers, the VT/WVU rivalry is alive and well. No worries – all good.

Go Hokies!