“Some people long to be in the Smoky Mountains, others just have not seen them yet, and some of us are lucky enough to live here.” That is an expansion of a tweet (twitter post) I made a while ago as I was pondering some philosophical questions that often pop into my head. As I thought about those questions and remembered that post I developed this article.
The tweet gave me insight to some of what I was thinking and feeling. I thought how wonderful it was that I live in the Smokies; however, the more I thought, I realized that I fit into all three categories. You probably ask if you live in the Smokies how can that be? Well read on and I will tell you, contemplate what you read and maybe you will learn something that will change the way you look at your own life.
As a younger person, most would say child, my family and I would migrate to the Smoky Mountains and the Great Smoky Mountain National Park (GSMNP) at least once a year on vacation. I could not wait for these trips. I think there were times they were more anticipated than birthdays and holidays. I wanted to see the mountains. I wanted to make roads in the gravel of our campsite for my toy cars and such. I wanted a campfire to watch and roast marshmallows or toast doughnuts in. I wanted to see a bear. I wanted to go into the towns and see what neat new things were in the shops. I wanted to go to some of the attractions and do things like ride the steam trains. Most of all I wanted to play in the river, “my river”, and see the Indians, especially Dennis Wolfe.
As a young boy I visited this wonderful land and I longed for the Mountains . Now as a “man” I live here, yet I still long for the Mountains. I long to get into the GSMNP and get away from the stresses of everyday life. When I do this I refresh. I feel closer to my creator and my ancestors. And I learn from the mountains. The biggest thing I have learned living here is that I have seen so very, very little of The Smoky Mountains.
See as a child I had all the views of the Smokies as a child. I did not see how much the steam trains I loved to ride had played such an important part in the United States’ history and, more to the point, the history of The Great Smoky Mountains. “My river” was not a single river, as I viewed it, but rather they were multiple rivers that were the life blood of the Smokies and its prior inhabitants. I viewed the stereotype of the Indians in Cherokee and did not realize that they were a part of my past and my future and nothing like what I perceived.
As I sit here now, listening to the sounds of a summer night in The Smokies, I feel grateful that I have been given the opportunity to be here. I had to live here to see how much I had not known, how much I had taken for granted, and how much I can do to let others see the Mountains through my eyes, now and then. I want people of all ages to come away from their visits with the sane feeling of wonder and awe I did as a child, with some of the knowledge I have since gained, and with a desire to learn more.
There are so many people here that love these mountains as much or more than I do. I have crossed paths with people who have helped me see what I felt and why (Like “Night Owl”) and those who want to teach others and preserve this great gift (Like Ranger “Linda”). So as you visit the Smokies, in person or through other means, take the time to learn why and how, not just see. Listen to the people around you and learn from their knowledge and wisdom. And, when you are alone in the quite of a noisy mountain night or beside a babbling brook, listen carefully at what the mountains are saying to you. And give thanks, to the mountains, to the people who made this possible, and the people who work so hard every day to keep it a place for the world to enjoy.
Kindred spirits. I understand the longing for mountains as well. My mountains are the Cumberland Mountains and although small they have great history. I’m only begining my journey for telling it, and want to say thanks. Reading here as encouraged me to keep moving on.