Of course I had HEARD of Facebook. I may be well into the marrow of middle age by now, but I am not completely out of touch with all things modern. I teach in a college, and I’m around young adults every day. If I don’t quiz them about what’s new and hip (which would not include the word “hip,” for example), I do absorb some things by osmosis. I have an iPod for instance, which is easier than carrying around a Walkman, which was easier than carrying around a boombox. As long as the latest technology makes life easier and I can still listen to Neil Young and the Stones on it, I’m all for it.

Still, I saw no reason to get myself a Facebook page, until I caught up briefly with a long lost relative of whom I have always been quite fond, and she suggested that it would be a good way for us to stay in touch, even share photos of the kids and such. I would be able to read her “profile” and see what movies, music, and television shows she was into these days, which is something I have always taken a perverse interest in doing with people I meet, as if the ownership of six John Cougar Mellencamp albums could tell you all you need to know about someone. I know a guy who won’t date a woman unless she likes John Prine, so maybe there is something to it.

I discovered that it is fairly easy to set up a basic Facebook page, especially if you don’t take the time to upload photographs or go into much depth in filling out the profile information. Within minutes, I had myself a profile that can best be described as “rudimentary,” and within an hour, I had my first Facebook friend (my cousin). We exchanged a couple of messages, and I was able to read her profile and see pictures of her, the family, friends, pets, and so forth. Although she suggested that I at least put up a photograph and add a little bit of information to my profile, I really had no intentions of doing anything else with my Facebook page. I had accomplished my mission of catching up with my cousin and establishing a pathway for future contact, and that was all I wanted or expected.

Then a strange and wonderful thing happened. I got a message from Robin. Now, as it happens, my wife and I had just been at my mom’s house a few weeks back, and mom had found some old keepsakes of mine in the attic, including a folder with several essays written by a bunch of fifth-graders. The essays were about me, because I was “Student Of The Week” that particular week in October of 1972. Not only was there an essay written by Robin, there were several others that mentioned Robin. Evidently, we were something of an item, at least so far as I could decode the murky symbolism of grade school romance.

Now, 37 years later, Robin lives in Pittsburgh and her children are grown. Before we had exchanged two messages, I had messages from four or five other classmates, none of whom I had seen or heard from in years, even decades. By the end of the week, we were having a cyber class reunion, with messages flying in all directions.

Finally, just last week, I got a message from a fellow named Thomas. He wanted to know if I was the same guy that taught English at Appalachian State in 1988. I recognized his name right away. He had been one of my favorite students, the type of student who is a class clown, but is secretly very smart and serious about school, so long as you don’t blow his cover. Because I ended up getting another job and moving away a couple of years after I taught his class, I didn’t know that he went on to graduate from ASU with a major in English. He now lives in Concord with his wife and two children, and he has become an endurance athlete. He says he is coming to Asheville on business sometime this spring, and we are going to find some time to meet for lunch while he is here.

One of my former classmates, Jerry, is up to 660 Facebook friends. My 15 pales in comparison, but I am so inspired by my collection of new/old friends, that I finally did put up a photo — of my son — and a video of both my kids singing “Yellow Submarine,” which is getting good reviews so far.

Maybe I will put up a few more photos, or post an inspirational quote or two. I obviously need to spruce the place up a bit, since you never know who might drop in for a visit.

(Chris Cox is a teacher and writer who lives in Waynesville. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

This time, WCU passes academic integrity test

If you want a messy issue with lots of overtones, then let’s talk about academic integrity and the role of corporations on college campuses. It’s a big ol’ Pandora’s box, already open and opinions on the fly everywhere.

Last week our cover story focused on banking giant BB&T’s recent donation to WCU. It seems BB&T’s CEO is a huge Ayn Rand fan. Rand is a philosopher and novelist who emigrated to the U.S. from Russia in 1925 when the Bolsheviks and their rabid, violent form of communism had taken over that country.

Her book, Atlas Shrugged, espouses unfettered capitalism, small government and taking actions mainly for self-interest (let me admit not having read any of Ayn Rand’s books, but I have done some studying of her writings over the last several weeks).

But the big debate here is not over the philosophy of Rand and the thoughts she espouses. It’s about academic freedom and this mountain university that people in this region hold near and dear to their collective hearts.

The million-dollar gift came with a few stipulations. The new Distinguished Professorship of Capitalism at WCU would work closely with the Ayn Rand Institute and “have a reasonable understanding and positive attitude toward Ayn Rand’s philosophy of Objectivism.” The agreement with the bank also required that Atlas Shrugged be required reading in at least one course and that a free copy of the book be distributed to juniors.

This is what drew the ire of some faculty. Philosophy professor Daryl Hale was among those who criticized the university’s partnership with BB&T, and he became a spokesperson for other disgruntled faculty. “The idea that any donor could have conditions that effectively dictate specific textbooks or course content is something touchy to a lot of folks,” said Hale.

According to WCU officials, the faculty concerns led to the creation of a committee to study the agreement. If the new professor was required to have a “positive attitude” toward Rand, how could they be expected to be critical of someone who is considered a fairly controversial philosopher? And what would that mean in the long run, for a public university to require a professor to have a particular view of any controversial thinker?

The faculty concerns led to some backpedaling by university administrators. No book will be required reading simply due to the donation, and the new language in the agreement with BB&T does not mention the Ayn Rand Institute. In other words, the most controversial aspects of the agreement were removed.

Colleges and universities are facing new funding challenges, and it’s certainly not unusual for businesses and individuals to offer scholarships or to set up endowed professorships. A business major who succeeded is certainly within his right to set up a grant that pays for a low-income student to study abroad. A really wealthy alumni may set up a professorship in special education because he or she suffered from some learning disability. These are accepted forms of philanthropy.

But dictating curriculum is completely over that line. WCU needs to invite corporate support without selling its soul. In this case, the modified agreement seems to accomplish that. But there will be continued pressures to bow to corporate influence, and it is this long-term issue that trustees and administrators — as well as faculty and student leaders — need to remain vigilant about.

(Scott McLeod is the editor and publisher of The Smoky Mountain News. He can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

By Carl Iobst • Guest Columnist

2008 was an interesting year. Not the worst on record, but tough enough. 2009 presents us with some unique challenging opportunities that have never been seen before — sort of a test of our ‘Americanness.’

Considering all the recent political shouting and posturing about “change we can believe in” and “country first,” how much can we really expect from our elected and appointed officials? Not as much as you might believe. Ultimately, without you and I doing the heavy lifting nothing — except higher taxes and less freedoms — is going to change.

All change is from the bottom up. We have to change our thinking and our actions. This is a cultural paradigm shift. We have to change the behaviors of those in government who are supposed to carry out our demands for “a more perfect union.” Remember, they’re accountable to us.

All change is local. I’m going to hit you between the eyes with a startling fact and you can accept it or not — true lasting, effective, and meaningful change can only happen when it comes from you and me. Anything else is just a fad, a mirage. That’s right. If we don’t make it happen, it is not going to happen.

True change starts here in Jackson County. And you and I will make it happen. Everyone wants open, honest government. Everyone wants clean air and water and enough elbow room to raise our children in. After all, we live in the country not the city. It is stupid and destructive to build cities on mountains. Can you say landslide?

Real change is happening now. Right now, groups of people are banding together in Jackson County to fight the developer-destroyers and other fads that could turn Jackson County into an unlivable wasteland. What you do this day, this year matters. You count. This is your chance to clean up our air and water and to protect our land. We can make democratic and social justice a reality here in our home — the valley of the Tuckasegee.

Join us.

Iobst is secretary of the Jackson County Citizen Action Group (http://jacksoncountycitizenactiongroup.blogspot.com/, P.O. Box 2212, Sylva, N.C., 29779.)

By Bob Scott

Steal a loaf of bread to feed your family and you go to jail. Steal $50 billion from investors and you get to stay in your luxury New York apartment under electronic monitoring.

Senators and House of Representatives members will give themselves a $5,000 pay raise this year by not voting for it. That way the “honorables” can tell their constituents “I didn’t vote for that raise.” My solution to the issue of politician’s pay raises is to allow the American public to vote whether politicians should get a raise and how much. After all, the public is supposed to be their employer.

Congress has recklessly given bailouts to companies and banks with little or no accountability to where the money is going. Some of it will undoubtedly save American jobs, but it’s a good bet lots of it will be used to continue the lavish life styles of top executives. Who will bail out the Americans who are the victims of this total lack of ethical behavior?

Newspapers are filled with ads for gated communities so that the privileged class will not have to mingle with people like me. Well, to set the record straight, I’m not sure I want to mingle with you folks either.

A second Gilded Age is upon us. There have been published accounts of executives making over $30,000 an hour while running companies into the ground. There are lots of families who would love to make $30,000 a year.

In New York, Caroline Kennedy wants a Senate seat. Apparently the children of the privileged class believe they are entitled to such by birth. Didn’t we fight some kind of war with England because we had had enough of that monarchy and privileged/ruling class stuff?

The governor of Illinois allegedly wanted to sell President-Elect Obama’s Senate seat for $1 million. That being the case, I guess my seat on the Franklin Town Board would be proportionally worth about $3.99.

Somehow I got an invitation to the Governor’s Inauguration Ball. To be seated with the big wheels I would only have to come up with several thousand dollars. But that’s where we are now. We have to pay to rub elbows with our elected officials.

The only way I could get to see a congressman or senator would be to show up at their office with a large campaign contribution or hire a well-paid lobbyist.

Want to become a millionaire? Just get elected to Congress or the Senate. The money will follow. The problem is you’ve got to be a millionaire to run.

Harry Truman was probably the last president to go home without all the trappings of the imperial presidency we have now allowed our lawmakers to create. I have read that he had to buy his own stamps after he left office. Can you imagine George W. Bush having to buy a stamp?

Here’s another proposal on my New Year’s rants list. I would like to see every national politician be required to spend one month every year away from the adult Disney World Washington has become. During this month, they would be required to work with local officials who are trying to figure out how to keep budgets within check, fix infrastructure, provide services such as fire, police, water, sewer, health services and education. Local officials struggle daily to maintain essential services without placing greater tax burden on the citizens’ backs.

We have elevated politics to a profession instead of a public service. It’s all about money. The minute these folks get to Washington they start campaigning for re-election rather than paying attention to their constituents. It’s time to change the system to one where a politician can only serve one six-year term and then have to come back home and live under the laws they passed like the rest of us do.

There are a lot of things wrong in this nation. Some see the great dream of our radical, brave and idealist founders fading. Students of history will tell you there are parallels between what is happening in America today with what afflicted other great nations of the past that faded into oblivion.

We can fix things. It will require great personal sacrifice at every socio-economic level; not just by putting the sacrifices on the backs of American workers. American workers are already making sacrifices — through no fault of their own. The sacrifices should be put on the backs of the incompetent and corrupt people who created this mess.

Duty, honor and country. It’s not old fashioned. But it’s time to put it back into vogue.

I just hope the bourbon holds out. Happy New Year!

(Bob Scott is a Franklin alderman and can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it.).

The new years toasts are over, and we’re a week into 2009. If hindsight is 20-20, then it’s time to feel pretty confident inpassing judgment on 2008 — it sucked.

Ever want to just drop kick a time span into oblivion? In more ways than can be said here, that’s how I feel about a lot of last year. Nothing’s all bad, but the balance sheet for 2008 ends up on the negative side. Good riddance.

And this is coming from someone who considers himself an optimist, one who can find the jewel in an avalanche of slime. In this job we often have to wallow in the mud with the power-mongers and the self-righteous, the pitiful and the abused, but we do it in hopes of making things better. So instead of letting bad news drag me down, typically it’s a springboard to look at what could be or how good I’ve got it.

But many times during the last year, that was hard to do.

Of course there is the bad economic conditions that waddled into our lives in 2008 and just sat there, a huge gorilla with its arms folded and a nasty snarl on its face, squatting there in the middle of the room and refusing to leave. It’s been tough. In our business we’ve had to cut people’s hours, have layoffs, and hold the line on all spending. And there may be more to come. We’ll see how the winter shapes up.

Every business owner has a similar story. No one is happy with sales and profits (or should I say losses), and everyone is getting a little desperate. When business is bad and salaries are cut or workers are let go, lives are screwed up. These are scary times.

And if the recession wasn’t enough to scare the bejeesus out of you, what about the newspaper industry in general? This business is changing so fast it’s hard to keep up, and a good part of that change is eliminating resources going into the gathering of news. All across the country, newspapers are cutting back. We who believe in the value of professional reporting to analyze and interpret the news are, I’m afraid, fast becoming relics. Our industry is changing, but no one can see where the future lies. That uncertainty is unsettling.

On top of that, we’ve had too many health issues here at our business. People I care about are dealing with tough stuff themselves or problems afflicting loved ones, and of course it affects their work. How can it not? And how, as a boss, can you not feel sympathy toward their plight? Never mind that it happens when you’re trying to squeeze blood from a turnip, so that these personal problems run up against bad times on the business side.

There was also my own private nightmare in 2008. My mother-in-law battled through a tough summer with a major illness, and then my mother became unexpectedly ill and fought like hell for almost three months before passing away. Losing a mother you’re close to — besides having to dealing with the grief — is like cutting the last tether holding you to the life raft, and suddenly you’re out there in the middle of the ocean on your own emotionally. No matter your age, it just takes time to regain your balance.

A friend of nearly 30 years also lost his mom this year. He’s one of those guys who makes proclamations that stick in your head, a blue-collar philosopher who thinks hard about life. I got him on the phone when he was driving back from visiting family after she died, and he had been on the highway alone for more than 10 hours. “No one said the journey was going to be easy, that it wasn’t going to get rough at times,” he said. “You just got to keep moving.”

And so we do, keep putting one foot in front of the other, get out of bed, get dressed, get the kids to school, go to work, go through the routines of our life. The little things will lift you up, the unexpected silly email from the co-worker, the stories about my wife’s students, the declarations of omnipotence from my 10-year-old during breakfast, the angst of my 13-year-old, the sunny smile of my 16-year-old who is too wrapped up worrying about school and sports but who just can’t help being a ray of sunshine in whatever room she’s in.

I can’t stand whiners. They get under my skin real fast. If you feel the same, you’ve probably read enough of this. Too much damn grousing. Time to move on, one foot in front of the other, heading forward. Here’s to 2009.

(Scott McLeod can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

The healing power of forgiveness is at the top of the list of things in which I believe strongly. It’s the best drug on earth, doing more good for more people than anything a doctor ever learned in medical school.

By Timm Muth

My thanks to the editor for giving me the opportunity to respond to the recent allegations about safety at the Green Energy Park. The article in last week’s paper (“Issues flare up at Green Energy Park,” Feb. 27 SMN) contained a number of inaccuracies about our gas piping system in particular. I’ll try here to set the record straight.

The Driscoplex 4100 HDPE (high density polyethylene) piping that we use is the industry standard for use in landfill gas systems. According to Kim Witterman with Lee Supply Company (the East Coast distributor for such piping), “most major landfills on the East Coast use this pipe for gas distribution.” Our pipe was specified and installed by one of the most experienced landfill gas installers in the country, McGee Environmental, which has installed the same pipe at landfills throughout North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee, and Florida.

There are two types of pipe that we could have used for gas distribution: HDPE or stainless steel. Since HDPE pipe connections are thermo-welded together, they all but eliminate the chance of an accidental gas leak. Stainless steel piping, in our application, would have required dozens of fittings and connectors, each connection a potential leak site. The HDPE pipe is rated to withstand a pressure of 150 psi, and our piping arrangement was pressure-tested after installation to 100 psi to check for leaks, even though our gas system actually operates at only 1/2 psi.

Our piping and gas collection system is inspected and monitored monthly by McGee Environmental, while our gas and water sample wells are monitored quarterly by Altamont Environmental. Our blacksmith forges (where we currently burn the landfill gas) are equipped with two separate safety systems to shut off gas flow in case of an emergency. We’ve also installed protective ballard posts (large, concrete-filled pipes) around each pipe or condensate trap that rises above ground to prevent any accidental damage by vehicles or equipment.

I recognize that to laymen, with little or no industry experience, some aspects of our construction may seem odd. Pipe supports must be designed and installed in a way that allow for expansion and contraction of the pipe as the outside temperature changes. Gas pipe is black in color due to the addition of carbon black to its makeup, which protects against damage from the sun’s UV rays. And the thermo-welded joints on our pipes are actually stronger than the original pipe walls and twice as thick. Based on our research, and on the products used at other landfill gas projects across the country, we stand behind our statement that the piping system we’ve used is safe and in compliance with industry standards. Above all else, the safety of our tenants, employees, and members of the public is, and will always be, our chief concern.

To be honest, the insinuation that the gas pipe that runs beneath the access road to the staffed recycling center presents a danger to the public is, quite simply, ridiculous. This is no “time bomb,” as stated in last week’s article. The pipe was installed under a plan approved by the DOT, which meets all applicable DOT and DENR regulations. The pipe is buried roughly five feet underground and placed inside an engineered culvert pipe where it travels beneath the roadway. This situation is no different than the thousands of feet of natural gas pipe buried beneath the streets of Sylva and Dillsboro. No one worries about those pipes on a daily basis, nor should they worry about our pipes.

Landfill reduces toxin releases

I also need to address the comment concerning “the amount of toxic pollution it (the Green Energy Park) produces.” The GEP does not produce toxic pollution; in fact, we prevent 222 tons of methane gas from entering the atmosphere each year. This reduction in pollution provides roughly the same amount of environmental benefits as removing 916 cars off the road or planting 1,300 acres of forests each year. As I mentioned in a previous article, landfills are dirty places, no argument; but our sample testing shows no contamination to groundwater sources, and even samples taken from the body of the landfill fall well below DENR regulatory limits.

In case anyone is wondering, my career in the energy industry began in 1980, working in nuclear power plant construction. Since then, I’ve earned an engineering degree from Virginia Tech and have worked with nuclear plant operations, coal-fired plants, large and small-scale hydroelectric dams, wind turbines, fuel cells, and solar installations. I’ve spent countless hours as an engineer, project manager, and technical writer in paper mills, battery factories, textile mills, printed circuit board plants, tobacco and food-processing facilities. I have also worked for both the N.C State Energy Office and the N.C. Solar Center, overseeing a variety of landfill gas projects and other renewable energy initiatives around the state. And yes, for a few years I enjoyed being a professional, dirt-encrusted mountain biker, leading bike tours through these beautiful mountains of ours, and writing books and magazine articles on the subject.

The Green Energy Park is a county-funded effort, and as such the taxpayers have a vested interest in the outcome of the project. I reluctantly mentioned my background above so that the folks in my community will know a little more about my qualifications and experience level. I took this job because I was honored that County Manager Ken Westmoreland and the county commissioners would entrust me with such an exciting and important project as the Jackson County Green Energy Park. I felt that this project offered me a chance to make something really happen in Jackson County, and to give something valuable and enduring back to my newly-adopted home. I believe in this project because it’s the right thing to do for our community, for our children, and for our environment: to turn trash into treasure, and change a sow’s ear into a silk purse.

So please stay tuned, as we’ve got some exciting things in store. We’ll build a community project that everyone in Jackson County can be proud of, where the public can enjoy watching and learning from artists as they practice their crafts. We’ll help teach kids why a clean environment is so important to all of us. We’ll continue to build bridges between the students and faculty at WCU, and our local community. And we’ll give artists and other entrepreneurs the opportunity to work hard and make their own dreams a reality. Please come and visit us, see what we’re doing, ask all the questions you want, and give us your suggestions. Because this project belongs to you, the people of Jackson County, and we want all of you to come be a part of it.

(Timm Muth can be reached This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)

Sparta, N.C. – I am on my way to town to get a birthday cake for my son, Jack. He will be 3 years old tomorrow, but we are celebrating tonight, so that all the family can join in the celebration while we are in town. I am thinking what every parent thinks when a child’s birthday rolls around: He cannot be 3 already. How can time possibly move so fast?

Some are saying Regional Medical Center faces an uncertain future, but we believe it is vitally important for community leaders, the medical community and anyone else who cares to come together and do whatever it takes to help this hospital survive as an independent health care center.

By Marsha Crites • Guest Columnist

Whether I am working on a watercolor design, organizing a community group, decorating a room, or getting to know a new person, I always enjoy beginning with a blank slate. No old baggage, muddled colors, or overgrown shrubs to deal with; just a nice open space with no clutter. Remember as a child the joy of a blank piece of paper and a new 64 Crayola set? Ah, the possibilities.