Scott McLeod
Facts, once unassailable, have become, well, difficult to quantify. People make up or repeat lies, especially on social media platforms and other online spaces, and people believe them, think what they read or hear is true, is a fact. As it turns out, those lies can be dangerous. We’ve all witnessed it at the national level, but it’s also happening right here in Western North Carolina.
Glass half full, that’s me. Lots of good folks out there doing good things. We had a couple of gentle reminders of this on Monday.
I’m hunkered down on a drizzly day in the cabin of our boat, which is docked at Duck Creek Marina in Bridgeton, North Carolina. That’s just across the Neuse River from New Bern for those familiar with the Carolina coast.
The number is $53.6 billion. That’s the estimate from the N.C. Office of State Budget and Management for the damage Helene inflicted on Western North Carolina. Those are just dollars; in the bigger picture, lives have been lost, transformed and forever changed.
(I started writing a Thanksgiving column, paused a moment, did a Google search and realized that I had shared this memory 10 years ago. It was published in this newspaper on Dec. 3, 2014. Hope it’s still worth a read.)
Moments, mostly the ones unplanned, are the stuff of important and lasting life memories.
I’m a ripened 64, and I still love real newspapers. However, my affinity for online browsing is also taking root. Statistics show that many my age are making the same transition.
So here we are, days away from this pivotal election, and here’s a word of advice: take a deep breath, relax, and let the system play out as it’s intended, because we won’t know who our next president is until days after Nov. 5.
We’ve had more than a week of picture-perfect fall days, usually a part of the recipe for a busy, successful tourist season. But there’s an unshakeable uneasiness among the business community since Helene, and especially in Haywood County. I hope elected leaders take note.
This is not the end of our story in Western North Carolina. Far from it. It’s an opportunity for a new beginning, a reshaping of this place that has always been so good for the soul. As I stand on my front porch steps and pause to look at and smell the trees, see leaves slowly spiraling earthward, feel the crisp bite of autumn in the morning air, take a deep breath and know that all will be healed in time.
Voting is going to look a bit different in North Carolina this year thanks to new partisan observers who will be eyeing voters as they cast ballots when in-person early voting kicks off in October. The new observers are touted as a way to ensure the integrity of the electoral process.
The looming 1980 presidential election was all over the news, the unpopular incumbent Jimmy Carter facing the charismatic former actor and California Gov. Ronald Reagan. A college junior in Boone walked into the Watauga County Board of Elections sometime in September and registered to vote in his first presidential election.
When our three children were young, we had a regular July 4 tradition. For probably about 15 years, we would head to Bryson City for the Firecracker 5K, a very low-key road race that starts downtown and heads out toward Deep Creek and then back.
This week SMN is celebrating its 25th anniversary as a business. As we mark the milestone, this industry is changing so fast it’s dizzying.
What happens when the those with the most chips in the game only have a partial stake in it?
In other words, what does a community lose when most of the very large businesses are owned by absentee or corporate entities whose main goal is make money but have little interest in making that place a better place to live?
I’m no extremist. I like discourse with people who hold opposing viewpoints. You can sway me with sound arguments. I feel enlightened when coming away with a better understanding of why people think the way they do.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
— Robert Frost, “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”
As I think ahead to 2024, I can’t help but feel so lucky to live here, in these mountains.
If 2024 were a table laid out before you, how would you imagine it: a beautiful, feast-laden smorgasbord of rich and tasty dishes with succulent sides, or an after-dinner wreck piled high with crusted up dirty dishes, overturned wine glasses and already eaten carcasses of dead birds and picked-over porcine bones?
“Climb the mountain so you can see the world, not so the world can see you.”
— David McCullough Jr.
I once wrote a story about a couple in Jackson County who had been living off the grid for decades. They were college-educated professionals who made a choice to live intentionally.
As an adolescent male in the 1970s, you didn’t tell your other male friends you loved them, not at that time, not like the hugs and “love you brother” that is so common today. Just didn’t happen, at least not in the Southern military town of my childhood.
A severe drought. A moderate but steady wind that’s coming from the north and very dry. Parched leaves swirling everywhere.
Town elections are seldom exciting, but the race in Waynesville is generating a lot of buzz.
Sometimes a quiet no-show can be a really loud statement.
The old man, hell he was probably my age, flagged me down after I passed his home and garden.
“Buen Camino,” he called, waving me back.
Sylva town commissioners are considering putting a Safe Haven Box in an appropriate place somewhere within their jurisdiction. I for one certainly hope they take this small step that could save the life of an innocent child.
When the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians overwhelmingly approved a measure to get into the recreational marijuana business last week, it set up a showdown of sorts with Rep. Chuck Edwards (R-Henderson) that could have far-reaching negative ramifications for the tribe.
When reporters, editors and publishers from all over North Carolina gather each year to hand out awards for the best work in the state, the talk inevitably turns to what is shop talk in this industry: the stories we’ve covered, the relationship with local officials back home, the challenges the industry faces as we’re all transforming our business models to accommodate changing reader habits.
It was an eye-opener for me, that’s for sure.
Dear Readers and Advertisers
Rep. Mark Pless, to put it bluntly, is a piece of work.
Folkmoot at 40 is much different than the younger version of itself . But it’s still here, and for that Western North Carolina should be proud. This is a festival that celebrates friendship, understanding and peace, all valuable commodities in a time when rancor and discord are way too common.
The roots of Folkmoot USA — which was first held in 1984 — go back to when Europe was divided by the Iron Curtain, when the culture of many Eastern European countries was being strangled by autocrats who were puppets of the Soviet politburo.
In those heady days of the 1980s when a group from Poland or Romania would travel to Waynesville and dance and sing about their unique customs and history, in some ways it was a slap in the face to dictators who feared these young entertainers would be seduced by the supposed opulence and the singular freedoms enjoyed by those in the U.S. Even after the fall of the Soviet Union, when parts of Europe were adjusting to their new political realities, the allure of traveling to the U.S. for many of these dancers and musicians was apparent.
The interactions between the groups are what always inspired many of us who helped keep the festival going. When you witness first-hand how politics that divide a country’s leaders dissolve quickly when, for instance, Russian and French dancers use the same rehearsal space and begin dancing together, or when an Israeli group and Turkish Muslims laugh and cut up together during meals, becoming fast friends in a mere two weeks. There was magic in that.
And the interactions of young people from Western North Carolina with so many of the entertainers was another part of the festival that made it so grand. Many people now approaching middle age still maintain lifelong friendships with people from other countries, thanks to this festival.
I’ve been a Folkmoot fan since I moved here in 1992. I got involved soon after, was on the board of directors for many years and now serve in that capacity once again. It’s been great fun, and my family and many friends have lots of great memories tied to this festival. Folkmoot promotes humanity, supports building bridges rather than fences. It’s motto, “many cultures, one community,” could be a standard for this country. What’s not to like about that?
Times have changed. The festival where a dozen groups of 20 to 30 dancers and musicians from all over the world would stay in Waynesville and travel throughout the region for two weeks will never happen again. It’s become way too expensive, travel arrangements nearly impossible to coordinate, visas difficult to obtain for many, potential financial liabilities always lurking. Tickets are a tough sell as there are so many entertainment options in this culturally-rich region.
And then there was the pandemic, which nearly shuttered the festival. But Folkmoot hung on. There’s still an International Day on July 29 and a Summer Soiree fund-raiser on July 20. These are the two signature events for this year. And there are monthly concerts and shows in the Queen Auditorium. The Folkmoot Friendship Center’s classrooms are brimming with artists and artisans who are making use of the space to create some dynamic work. I would invite anyone who hasn’t visited the center in a while to take a tour.
Folkmoot has turned a corner. I like to tell people that it’s crawling, now, re-learning how to remain relevant. It’s re-learning how to stay financially afloat. It’s re-defining itself as a hub for the arts. And it’s hosting some great music and other events. One day in the future, it may soar again as one of this region’s premier festivals. If it’s going to get there, it needs the community’s support. Only time will tell.
(Scott McLeod can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
Short term vacation rentals — and their impact on affordable housing and the tourism industry — are vexing both local and state leaders.
The cookouts are over, the red, white and blue decorations are coming off the patios and tables and are being prepared for storage to await July 4, 2024.
Melvin McLeod Trawick, our first grandchild, came into this world seven days ago.
So this is what it’s come to.
This morning was one of those times when Django being gone hit home, when I got a little emotional thinking of the 11 years he was part of our family. I was up early, took a walk around Lake Junaluska, and if he was still here Django would have been excited to take that walk with me, would have been smiling the entire ride to the lake in the bed of the truck, would have needed help getting in and out due to age and creaky joints. He walked that lake hundreds of times with my wife Lori and I.
Since 2020 gun violence has been the leading cause of death among children in the United States, not automobile accidents or disease (the two causes that historically led the way).
“The mill.” In Canton, as in hundreds of other towns across America, that was the only description needed to describe the factory that drove a small town’s economy, which generations depended on for their livelihood and some for their very identity.
(Editor’s note: All the characters in this column are fictitious) Guy walks into his local taproom and is gratified to see his favorite spot open.
Sometimes an idea hatches first as a kind of mental knot that doesn’t reveal itself but causes me a bit of anxiety as I try to unravel what’s eating me. When that happens I try to slow things down, open my mind, and almost always the thought will reveal itself.
Sorry to burst your bubble but this is not a high-quality newspaper. Your version of journalism is laughable at best. Predominantly promoting leftist views and pushing a leftist agenda is not what I would call journalism but propaganda. But I will compliment you on allowing opposing voices a chance to comment and reply to your leftist leaning tripe.
Dinner conversation last night with a young couple who live in New Zealand but are here for the holidays — he’s a native Kiwi, she’s from Haywood County — came around to how it seems this area is getting so many newcomers from all over the country. As 2022 draws to a close, you gotta wonder just how many more people will be moving to this region over the next few years, and subsequently, how it will change this place we call home.
I was blasting classic Rolling Stones in my truck yesterday at a few minutes before 5 p.m. when the phone rang. I did not recognize the number so debated whether to answer what was likely a junk call from someone asking me about my car warranty or — one I’ve been getting of late — someone trying to sell me a vacation package with a particular hotel chain. The caller ID said it was coming from Greensboro.
The truth, even when it’s staring you down Clint Eastwood style, is easier to ignore than to act on. Just human nature, I guess, but something has to give.
My wife and I were truly blessed to have our children, some relatives and close friends gathered for Thanksgiving, which has always been my favorite holiday. So many of the people I love, all together around the table and nothing on the agenda except to re-tell stories from the past, muse about the future, revel in each other’s company and eat until we couldn’t. The world’s problems seemed to melt away.
I was standing at my desk this morning looking forward to the coming Thanksgiving weekend with our grown children and fixating on the importance of shopping local.
Leaders in a free republic should serve the common good. That’s why the U.S. system of government and our freedoms have captivated and inspired people around the world. Basically, we are proof that a free people can make the right choices and self-govern and, usually, do the right thing.
As Lori and I walked our dog through the roads in our subdivision this morning before sunrise, Election Day, we hoped for no fog and no clouds so we could witness the lunar eclipse. It was indeed crystal clear, the stars were out, and for most of the walk we watched as the Earth’s shadow slowly moved across the full moon near the western horizon. It’s a subtle celestial show, the darker orange/yellow slowly covering the brighter yellow/white. Otherworldly.
Early voting has started. In North Carolina and across the nation there are many close races that will likely be decided by just a few percentage points. That means the swing voters — those who don’t vote a straight party ticket but instead vote for the candidate based on their qualifications or perhaps even their personality — could very well be the difference in those tight races.
Education and public schools have never been completely immune from the shifting winds of politics, but events of the last few years have created a new level of interest among voters that — in most cases — is unprecedented.
