Scott McLeod

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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” 

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As I think ahead to 2024, I can’t help but feel so lucky to live here, in these mountains. 

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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? 

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“Climb the mountain so you can see the world, not so the world can see you.” 

— David McCullough Jr. 

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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. 

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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. 

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A severe drought. A moderate but steady wind that’s coming from the north and very dry. Parched leaves swirling everywhere. 

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Town elections are seldom exciting, but the race in Waynesville is generating a lot of buzz.

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Sometimes a quiet no-show can be a really loud statement.

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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.

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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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It was an eye-opener for me, that’s for sure.

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Rep. Mark Pless, to put it bluntly, is a piece of work.

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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..)

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Short term vacation rentals — and their impact on affordable housing and the tourism industry — are vexing both local and state leaders.

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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.

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Melvin McLeod Trawick, our first grandchild, came into this world seven days ago.

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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.

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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).

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“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. 

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(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.

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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. 

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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. 

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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. 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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. 

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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National Public Lands Day dawned crisp and cool Saturday, Sept. 24, a celebration of everything most beloved about fall in Western North Carolina — sunrise pinks and oranges streaking the skies above the ridgeline; clear, dry air carrying an invigorating early-morning chill; bright sunshine focusing the world beneath warm rays as the sky brightened, revealing mountainsides tinged with hints of red and yellow, rogue branches overly eager for the autumnal wardrobe change. 

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When the Haywood County School Board announced that it had chosen Trevor Putnam as the system’s new superintendent, I can’t think of a single person who follows education news in this region that was surprised. People were making that call even before Superintendent Bill Nolte announced his relatively sudden November retirement.

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“Alternative facts” was a phrase used by U.S. Counselor to the PresidentKellyanne Conway, during a “Meet the Press” interview on January 22, 2017, in which she defended White House Press Secretary  Sean Spicer’s false statement about the attendance numbers of Donald Trump’s  inauguration as President of the United States. When pressed during the interview with Chuck Todd to explain why Spicer would “utter a provable falsehood,” Conway stated that Spicer was giving “alternative facts.” Todd responded, “Look, alternative facts are not facts. They’re falsehoods.” - Wikipedia 

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There’s a basic human longing for a sense of place, some part of the world that’s home, a place where you are a part of something that feeds your soul. Find it, feel it, and you’re one of the lucky ones.

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Earlier this week, I had started writing a column about the progress made in the year since the flooding from Tropical Storm devastated parts of Haywood County. Then, as I started talking to our writers about the stories they were preparing for this week’s edition — one year after the flood — I could tell they had the recovery efforts well covered. 

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“Not all opinion pieces have to be complaints or deal with issues. Sometimes it is enough to share old memories or new experiences with others. Sometimes, it is actually better as it brings us together rather than driving us apart.”

— SMN reader

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I never did buy in to the “defund the police” movement that swept the country a few years ago. Yes, the spate of police shootings and beatings of innocent people or of people accused of minor crimes revealed serious problems in many law enforcement agencies. Those crimes captured on video ignited an important debate.

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“… I hear Mariachi static on my radio / And the tubes they glow in the dark / And I’m there with her in Ensenada / And I’m here in Echo Park ….” —Warren Zevon, “Carmelita”

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She was 70, or so she said, but looked 15 years younger. She was alone and sipping wine and eating “chips” in the pub at the Ceilidh Inn in Ullapool, Scotland. She was a child of the 60s who spoke of how crazy London had been at that time. Eventually, she had sold her house in the city and relocated to wilds of Scotland. For decades she has been scratching out a living as a painter.

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As I was re-reading last week’s issue of The Smoky Mountain News and about the Juneteenth celebrations in the mountains, I started thinking about the upcoming July 4 holiday and of the freedoms Americans take for granted. As a white man I won’t presume to know what Juneteenth means to Black Americans, but there’s little doubt that their experience of being an American is much different from mine. 

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“Arrogant.” “Out of control.” “Power hungry.”

I’ve heard all these words — and worse — used to describe Rep. Mark Pless, R-Haywood since he’s filed two bills in the state legislature that would drastically change local politics and municipal powers in Haywood County. 

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The mantra since starting this newspaper has been straightforward: put out a high-quality newspaper and work like hell to make sure the business survives. If we can do both, I’ll be one of the lucky ones: doing what I love, making a living doing it and living in a place I’m fortunate to call home.

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The affordable housing crisis looms as this region’s most pressing problem. And so far, no one has proposed any kind of sweeping proposal that will solve it. 

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The proposed parking fee for visitors to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park has users — especially locals in the gateway communities whose family histories are intertwined with the Smokies — understandably upset. The identity of the Smokies and those who live near it are more closely aligned than at other national parks. Locals have roamed freely (save for some camping fees) for several generations on land that was taken with the promise that there would never be a charge for visiting.

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