Linkaroma, Well, Not Really

Are folks out of touch with anything but their own? I think so, and apparently, I'm not the only one to think so too. Hence this piece on NPR about this fellar, a fellow Libertarian, that wrote a book about it.

This is like linkaroma...

A story I read from back home. Again, next county over, Henderson. Now, let me tell you about the Green River. It goes down the Atlantic side of the mountain and enters the Broad. Don't confuse the Broad with the French Broad. The Broad goes down to the Atlantic and the French Broad is a tributary of the Tennessee. Historical note, the Battle of Cowpens was fought on the Green River Road. The Green River Bridge on I-26 is the tallest (so I've heard, shoot me in comments if I'm wrong) in the eastern US. But, off on Pintacle Mountain is a logging project that, well, read the story.

I need more links...Well, maybe I don't.

One of my buddies got a letter from a 9 year old girl today. I guess from a school project. She asked allot of questions, one of which..."What's your favorite thing about the war?"


One of my favorite Authors is John Ehle. He is from Asheville but he doesn't live there. He wrote The Winter People and another story, The Journey of August King.
He also wrote a good book on the Trail of Tears. Both The Winter People and The Journey of August King were made into movies. But, we will concern ourselves with The Journey of August King. It was made back in the mid 90's in Western North Carolina. A girl I worked with was an extra in it. Allot of scenes on Black Balsam Knob with a clear shot of Sam's Knob...Big Sam, Little Sam, the place folks call The Grave Yard Fields. They used those places as a community setting, and it ain't suitable to a community. One scene had a Red Bone Hound with a freeze brand. So, you can see, I don't think they did a good job of making it. (The Winter people had a better budget, they landed Kurt Russell)It's a good story though. Now, I admit, I've never read the book. I have The Winter People and my mother gave me an old tattered and battered copy that I was reading for the flight back across the water. Another admission...I just saw the movie for the first time night before last. Yep...Well, about the time it came out, I was never confronted by the opportunity to see it. About the time it came out on DVD, OK, Video at the time, I met a pretty girl and fell in Love. You'd think I would have watched it with her? but, for whatever reason, it wasn't well known. I didn't even know it was a John Ehle story. Well, the tattered and battered copy of The Winter People was dropped in the Atlanta Air Port and not recovered. So, I ordered a new copy and well, there was The Journey of August King.

It's a story about a widower helping a run away slave girl.

And it's time to stop typing.
The Appalachianist

French Broad Log Jam

I sit here in my humble abode typing these words. My leave is almost done, so, I don't speak of a place being far away.

I told you, that is if you read the last couple of posts, that I keep up with the news here at home. Another subject other than the next county over's Sherriff, that I keep up with is the Log Jam. In a section of Transylvania County known as Penrose( That's down stream of Pisgah Forest and Little River and just before Blantyre)in the shadows of Fodderstack Mountain, is a big pile of logs jammed up in the French Broad River.

Reports put it as wide as 75 feet, as high as 12 feet and 25 thick. The river is cutting around it and taking the bank off of the sides. A man's property is getting washed away and that is all the more sediment going down stream. It's also a public waterway and that makes it a danger to anyone in a boat. No brainer. Oh, and a bridge is right down stream.

Well, powers that be decided something ought to be done and things got in motion. But then times are hard so money came in question. The Lady Governor coughed up some funds. Now, this News Story is dated 9 November. Those logs are still piled up across that river. I read in the local paper, the Transylvania Times, that it's still a matter of who is responsable, dated 19th January 2012. They were talking about a border, etc. Which, a border is cool, but these logs came from upstream.

I think they want to bring in a track hoe and move the logs. I thought at first a few sticks of dynamite would get it busted. I don't know what's what, but what's the hold up? Well, they did say Febuary.

In a world full of isms, I cling to Appalachiaism...
The Appalachianist

Henderson County's Brewing Rumble

I'm providing a link on my neighboring county's issue with their Shrrif's Department. This is a compliment to the previous post. This is an opinion peace. I like the writers style. He makes the point I made. We would make good friends.

Hey, my lucky number...13. Your's too. I've got 13 followers. My ego is bursting (I'm not dead). If you read this, give me a shout. Call me out on issues, lambast me. Then, "dance around the camp fire, hang around a while". I just looked at the weather back home and it calls for precious rain. I also realised Friday is the 13th. A black cat crossed my path today too. Do you think this is a good thing?

Cracker singing "Sweet Patatoe"


Lucky me
The Appalachianist

The Sky

I find nothing pretty about this part of the world but the skys. They can be so clear and blue, the moonless nights and the plathora of stars...Though the richest starry nights I've saw were in Appalachia, and many in what is now my Ex's yard, others from mountain balds. In the land that I dearly call home the sky's are small, with trees and mountains lording around you. The sunsets are mixed with mountains while here, it's flat with little to no trees, it's just the sky...The sky alone in it's vastness. The sky owns the moment.

I seperate the land from the people in this view. I've known them in their gentle kindess and witnessed their brutality. They love the land, but don't respect it. They see nothing wrong in littering it for to them a man made garden is far prettier than the open land. And as I don't see it that way, it's the same as the Bride dressing to her finest, she's not pretty without the dress and make up. And in one manner you find them uncuthe, in the other you admire their customs. It's a brutal land and in order to survive you have to be brutal as it is, and to survive together, you have to have the thoughtful kindess of friendship pure. I've left them, but some I still see as my friends. I know that now some may no loger live, and I try to think otherwise.

I saw the skys that David Lowery looked at when he wrote this song and being a fan of his as I am, every time I hear this song, I think of the Iraqis and I wish them the best.

Tomorrow is Chistmas and I miss seeing the bare branches of the hardwoods and the sweet smell of wood smoke as well as the cool air that carrys it. Jesus loves you, Peace on Earth.

The Appalachianist

Hemlocks of Carolina

The Middle East is not like anywhere else. Everything, other than the base needs and desires is different than anything we Americans grew up with. To me everything here is "flimsy". Flimsy designs, flimsy in every sense. Flimsy in a way that I don't think I can get you to understand. Honestly, a few people that I know back in Eden have expressed an accuracy to me in their comprehension of this world. Usually those people are Transplantavanians that came back to the ground they knew as home.

I call there Eden, but, I know full and well it ain't. Other than the fact Eden was abolished with the advent of sin, home is a place of turmoil, confusion and drama. It's a culture war back home, it's fought every day, it never rages, just simmers in the summer heat and glows on winter nights. At times, it appears we've had the lick, and then at others we're hanging on better than ever. It's not waged as much as outsider versus insider as much as it is the new with the old.


There's a biological war as well. The hemlocks have taken a bad bad beating. They stand like skeletons, once proud and now sad old snags. Taken down by a little insect, the Wooly Alleged. Someone here before me had a subscription to North Carolina Wildlife and I picked one up and read an article on the Hemlocks struggle. I remember leaving to Iraq, those few years ago, seeing the green of the Hemlocks and coming home to see them standing without a needle on them.



Just a few years before a beetle had killed many of the pines. Where did these damn insects come from? The orient or just somewhere they should have stayed? You stomach that sight, there's no anesthesia for that pain. You accept that it's happening and pray for an answer...Then you hear some bright fellar is trying to find one. Who is this masked man?

Counter insects have been brought in, they've sprayed the trees...And have crossed some Asian trees to try to build immunity. That last one takes a long time...

Though I'm not one to lament, this ain't the first time I have lamented on this subject and it won't be the last.

The Appalachianist

28712

1 September 2011
I use the internet at the PX food court. Ft. Bliss has a really unique and large Px and Commissary complex. I’m too lazy, you google it, either now or when your done reading. Just check it out. It has music playing classics and oldies. Allot of old school R and B. Now, I hate to be negative, but if you don’t speak up, nothing will get fixed. They play way too many Bee Gee songs. Way too many.
No one pays mind to this blog any more. And, I’m not too sure if I mind that. Don’t let that discourage you, dance around the campfire. Just don’t get crazy and fall in.

I regress. I previously stated that this is my first time in the southwest. Well, no. In July I was in Las Vegas. But, I don’t feel like talking about that. Not that what happened stayed in Vegas. It just didn’t leave.

2nd September

I’m a mountain boy. People have made comments to me about my accent. I’ve used words that have raised some laughs. These words I know are not exclusive to Appalachia. The Chief of Staff (A full Bird Colonel) used the same term… “A slew of”. They didn’t laugh at him, but he validated me and well, I hope it inspired them. Now, I don’t mind the laughs. I laughed with them. Damn Seattle people…

7th September
Believe it or not, I don’t like complaining. But somewhere I must have inherited paticuluarness. Or it’s my astrological sign, or just the way God made me or how he tolerates me. So, already you are wondering what I’m about to complain about. I’m going to complain about a place I’d love to be right now, Buttholeville. Yes, odd, quircky and overall great place to live, Brevard NC. County seat to Strangelvania…Uh, Transylvania County.

What happened is the county turned 150 years old. Who would have thought we’d make it that far. Being after the place became it’s own county it was a dangerous and depressing place to be during the 1860’s. But, it is what it is today. And, we’ve seen better times, at this point, it’s on a down hill slope in the economical sense. Socially it’s always been different, but not so much that it distracts you. Though, in my personal opinion, it’s socially depressed.

What distracted me was… I read about it in the Hendersonville paper. They had a big to do down town. The usual celebration stuff. Except a Barney Fife impersonator was there, “making the place feel even more like Mayberry”. People that place never has been, is not and never will be Mayberry. We’ve got a sandwich shop on Mainstreet now called Mayberry’s. I ate there once, it was OK. Service was decent. The waitress didn’t call me “honey, sugar, sweety” or nothing. I’m not holding that against her.
Oh, but, no. We’re not Mayberry. We’re Brevard. We’re unique as is Franklin and Waynesville is to themselves. That’s Mountain Communities. It goes for Sylva or Saluda. We’re a small town with our own riffs, secrets, politics, laughs and joys. We’re often divided, too damn independent to stand up together and never sure as how to do it, much less on what to do it for. And, yet, the “everybody knows everyone” syndrome is not all bad. You know who’s who and what’s what adding to the overall piece of things. But, that can get ugly all the same. On one of the most beautiful and peaceful stretches of road of the county a very gruesome thing happened once. And, the story only attests to how much someone can hate another. We’re not sadistic or mean people, but then we’re not always nice either. Things can be very personal in rural societies. That goes for kindness as well. I will repay a favor to someone for having the same last name of someone kind to me. Except for McCalls, Galloways and Owens. There’s too darn many of them…Just kidding. I’m related to all three, and not to all of them. Not all at once, that is. But, seriously, If I meet someone from another Mountain community with a possible tie to someone I’ve known through the Service, or I’ve hunted with, and, they were good people. I look after that person. Being nice is personal, and being a jerk is too. If one of those kind that I mentioned were not as good to me, I treat the person with caution. Meanness can be hereditary, birds of the same feather flock together.

Not to say all is meanness. At times we are naive, and at others we are as smart as anyone and no one is really that innocent. Brevard NC is a great place. No other place I’d rather be. That goes for the county. My people chose a good place all of those years ago. We struggle, we win we lose. Were not innocent, we’re not charmed. Please, don’t associate us with Mayberry. Mayberry was only associated with typical small town quirks. Not the other way around. You want to live in Mayberry? Turn on your TV.

What do they teach them in OCS?
The Appalachianist

Nonprofit

26th August
Sometimes I wish I was a celebrity. Not so much that I could have beautiful women hanging on my arms, though, that would be rather pleasing, or to have a fancy house with a flashy car and a crew of people telling me I’m cool, but…I’ll stop. Run away sentence alert…But, so I could have my own charity. That’s what they do, they give back. Usually to some cause plucked from air. My cause? It wouldn’t be the save this that or the other cause. Couldn’t you hear that?” The Daniel Wilson Fund to Save This, That and the Other. A nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving stuff. “ Oh, but, I want my own charity. I just can’t figure out what for. Part of this is my…OK…I’ll say it, machoism. Not to be confused with Appalachiaism. I don’t want it to be about saving stuff…But, I do. I want a Wildlife fund, because you can’t save people. Animals are cool, and people suck, at least when they are not being cool. Do I want to save wildlife? No. I want wildlife to have outstanding habitat, the rest will follow. Could you just hear that? “The Daniel Wilson Fund to Provide Outstanding Habitat to Wildlife and Beyond. A nonprofit organization dedicated to giving wildlife outstanding habitat and beyond”. That way we say it twice so people really get the point. What is it…A validating statement, a validation statement, take your pick. I like validating things. I could have the “Daniel Wilson Validation Fund. A nonprofit organization dedicated to validating things and stuff too”. Things and stuff are not always the same thing, or the same stuff. And, sometimes things and stuff need validating, but, I will stick to wildlife.

To be honest, since this country has spent itself into a hole and cut backs are inevitable (though spending money is not) then wildlife and forestry are going to take a hit. So, outdoorsmen have to step it up.

Oh, I didn’t explain the “Beyond” . That’s just to make it sound even more cool. Or better yet, that says everything will follow once wildlife has outstanding habitat. First, I’ve got to become a celebrity. I wonder how I could do that? What kind of nonsense am I good at? Got any ideas? I need an act, right now! If I’m going to become a famous celebrity with my own nonprofit organization, I need to get busy.

27th August
Want to know a secret? I’m home sick. Not that if I was back there I’d be living in some Mountain Paradise, but, my thoughts drift to the place. Its running season, you can run Bear with Dogs, just not kill the Bear, that comes in October. Last season wasn’t good and wasn’t much to me. Last night I would most likely have been out all night long. I’m here instead, the Desert Southwest. I’ll not fret though. I’m here, here and now, and I’ll take advantage of the opportunities it offers me. Which, Lord willing, will be bountiful.

Jello Boy told me a touch of fall is starting to show. The sycamores are losing their leaves, they usually drop them first. I know with Irene running up the coast she has pulled the moisture out and the air is dry. Dry for the Carolinas, that is. I was telling one of my buddies here that some of the prettiest days are on the heels of a Hurricane or Tropical Storm. The days are still hot now, but the nights have that little cool to them. The next time I see Transylvania, it will be winter or spring. At least I get to see it though. All of the guys before, Vietnam, Korea, they did a whole year. No computer with video chat, barely a call home, and no mid tour leave.

For Now
The Appalachinist

Hope for Hemlocks

I'm in the Pacific Northwest. I wouldn't live here, not even for Love. I do have a tinge of jealousy for here though. They're evergreens are standing pretty and tall. This is where I explain...

I'm from Transylvania County NC. It's one of the greenest* places in the country. But, over the last few years we've lost some of our finest greenery, the Hemlocks. The woolly adelgid has been eating them something fierce. One of my last acts, and it was only a detour in taking care of business, was to drive up Davidson River over to Balsam Grove. It's lined with the snags of once proud Hemlocks. It's no longer a new sight to me to see naked, dead Hemlock standing on a mountainside. That was to me when I returned from Iraq. The dark green had turned a dull gray. It's a sad sight. But, as always when I stare out at the lifeless limbs, and catch sprigs of green. Needles hanging on to limbs on all but the biggest. I really don't know what my grandchildren will see. Like my Grandfathers that knew the Chestnut, all but lost to my generation. Then there is one, a sapling, but ancient no longer shaded by it's parent tree, raising up to reach the sun.

The sun, Before long I will see it in it's worst context, in a desert. Lifeless desert. Oh, I know life is there, but, that is the best words to describe it. Deployment is so aggravating. This is so different than when I deployed before. That predeployment was more organized, still full of changes, but far more organized than what is happening with this one. It's a different kind of deployment though. Before when I was going to Iraq, my year was nothing but uncetain, where I would be, who I would be with and what I would do. Otherwise, the day to day was lined out. Not that it is not lined out here, but, it's a whole different set of circumstances. I have bitter thoughts comparing it to before, then I have to remind myself, the Army changed the deployment rules, how they want to deploy Reservist from my time in 06. It's a broken up process and that creates issues of it's own. Things get lost...Time is lost.

But unlike in 2006, I don't think the Hemlocks are doomed. I know where they are all green, not a snag among them. At least, the last time I was at one of those places. So, I grit my teeth in these temporary circumstances and know, just like for the Hemlocks, there is hope.

Today marks 25 years of the Army. It's been all of my adult life.
The Appalachianist


*I'm not talking the Environmental Fad

Me Going Off On The Media.

It's nice to be home, at least for the meantime. I'll be back in Seattle this time next week. I'll be going back out for 7 days, I have to attend a class.

That's news on me. Now, about the news. I have this belief, that if you are paying for news, your are getting ripped off. My time in Iraq convinced me of that. Take this end of the world thing. Someone is always predicting the end of the world, it fascinates people. I think it's a little cocky, and well, people closest to me call me cocky, so, it must be cocky. Why was it news? We have three wars and they are reporting on that? Yes, three wars, count them.

While I was away good ol' Buttholeville made the national news. Some Police Officers were arresting someone when a woman threw lighter fluid or something on them and then tried throwing a flaming cotton ball on them. Now, that's not funny, but it is. How do you throw a flaming cotton ball? Well, not too good, because it didn't reach the cops. The carpet caught fire. The Police got up and put it out the old fashioned way, they stomped it out. Word is there was a meth lab in the place, I don't know. The cops ain't saying. It started out a drama arrest. The guy had misdemeanor warrants ad was acting crazy, not like it was murder, but it ended in attempted murder. Go figure.

Well, back to Iraq. Allot of my experiences the last few weeks have made me reflect on that time. One reflection being that I never saw the media do anything in depth enough to get a grasp on the real situation. Later, I was able to read between the lines on such issues. They blew allot of stories. They went on canned State Department tours, in some cases came on the Muslim Holy Day (Friday)or asked a couple of questions, smiled, snapped some pictures and whisped back off to a cozy place in the IZ. Allot of the time, they didn't grasp what was taken place. If the reporters did get something, in my opinion, it gets messed up in Big Media...Lost to the "industry standard". I would sit, well, actually stand and listen to the S2 dump (intel) almost every day. The violence would be sporadic at times. At times it was the big ticket stuff you saw on the evening news. But, what you saw,( hey, notice how coverage has nearly disappeared?) was a very small part. Honestly, allot of it would not have made sense to you anyway, but, if you contemplate our Military Endeavor, if you got your information from the news, you didn't get much.

I do enjoy the sight of a pretty lady reporter...
The Appalachianist

Toboggan Weather

We've been smacked by a big 'ol blast of cold air. It's not been comfortable to say the least. Everyone laments on it, and, well, that includes me. We usually get hit with one closer to or after Christmas. Last winter got everyone spooked. Heck, you'd think we moved Southern Appalachia to Wisconsin. It's early this year. That's winter and we jut have to deal with it.

Now, if you go by the wooly worms, they are black on the front and the tail while brown in the middle. I've been told otherwise, but, from what I was told before I was told otherwise, by someone that was probably told otherwise, the black is the cold, and brown is well, not so cold. Last year everyone I seen was as black a the ace of spades and last year was as cold as the dickens. We all know about the dickens.

Now, you may have caught what I said. I said it unapologetically. I'm from Southern Appalachia where "seen" and "saw" can be used just the same as the other. Last winter might have been like Wisconsin...Well, maybe not that bad, but you get my drift. Look, at this latitude a month of below freezing weather is a good stretch...but, we don't talk like them, but they may say the same thing. But we'd get a laugh when one of us Mountain People said we were going to put a toboggan (pronounced Toe-Boggin) on our head. Those folks would be puzzled as to why and how we were going to put a sled on our head. No rhyme intended. It's one of those things, only we, the residents of this region call a watch cap a toboggan. How it got so, I've no explanation. It's something that we grew up with. When I was a kid living in SC we were the only family that said toboggan. It might have rubbed off on some friends, I don't know. If so, well, I was spreading Appalachiaism earlier on then I thought. But If I could spread on thing of Appalachian Culture it would not be our peculiar speech. It would be that it's OK to be curious as long as you mind your own damn business.

The Appalachianist