LIKE AN ECHO
Growing up in a military family was an adventure, endless highway miles and countless hours watching the country rush past was normal. Days Inn parking lots stretch big and broad across this great land. My grandparents, we called them mam-maw & pap-paw, would stay up to greet us at the door. It usually played out the same. I would fall asleep in the back seat and wake up, starring at the fluorescent glow of a house where everything I've ever known began.
As an adult, the construct of "home" has always been difficult to elaborate. What makes a home and who says? Can a geography be a part of your history though one doesn’t exist there?
In exploring those questions, I'm revisiting the back roads of industrial eastern Tennessee and more specifically, the Appalachian Mountains region of western North Carolina. These places are a part of my history and these memories are mine and shared, connected by space and time of childhood summers, holidays and ongoing visits.
The Nantahala River flows near her headwaters in what is now known as Standing Indian Campground in the Nantahala National Forest. Old-timers remember it as White Oak Bottoms where a 1927 logging camp once grew. Old growth white oaks are clear-cut by the Ritter Lumber Company and milled in nearby Rainbow Springs to the tune of 50,000 board feet a day. “By 1940 … his ( W.M. Ritter ) company had already manufactured and sold three billion board feet of lumber — enough to comprise a solid train over 2,000 miles.”
My pap-paw Pete Armes, the remaining living sibling of 13 brothers and sisters, remembers butchering hogs with his father and selling the cuts of pork from a mule-drawn wagon through the community that grew up around White Oak Bottoms. He can still remember the railroad tracks Ritter had put down to transport the lumber to the mill.
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