I live in an old farmhouse that is literally falling apart. Each spring, clouds of termites rise in the bathroom and the bedroom, coating the windows and covering the kitchen stove and the mirrors in the bathroom with tiny wings — wings that clog my vacuum cleaner for weeks.

This year for Lent I took on a challenge instead of giving up something. I challenged myself to communicate more with friends and family who are not in my daily realm.

As Americans, we’re banning a lot of books these days, perhaps 1,650 in the past year, censoring others, and coming after librarians and teachers. In North Carolina, too, at least six attempts have occurred statewide and here in the mountains, one in Waynesville and another in Macon County.

The whistle at Canton’s paper mill talked to me daily, sending the reassuring message that the mill was producing paper and employees were busy at their jobs. Security. Dependability. Reliable employment. Income. Pride.

“Americana”: noun. Things associated with the culture and history of America.

“Grief”: noun. Deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement; deep sorrow.

“Nostalgia”: noun. Pleasure and sadness that is caused by remembering something from the past and wishing you could experience it again; derived from the Greek language, with “nostos” meaning homecoming and “algos” meaning ache.

“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. 

The earliest expressions of our daughter’s deep and abiding affection for cute, fragile creatures were frightening and very nearly catastrophic. When she was 4 years old, she liked carrying our helpless cat, Bubby Tomas, around the house with her arms squeezing his torso tightly as if she were performing the Heimlich maneuver, his eyes wide with panic, pleading for rescue. 

It seems to me that when we talk about the spaces in our community for our children, we should be talking about what is safe, supportive and loving. 

I’m the mom to two boys, ages 14 and 11. Both of them are currently on the cusp of a big transition. My younger son, Case, is in fifth grade and will be starting middle school in the fall, while my older son, Brooks, is in eighth grade and will be entering high school.

Editor’s note: George Ellison, a renowned naturalist and writer who lived in Bryson City, passed away on Sunday, Feb. 19. Below is a tribute to Ellison by Don Hendershot. Ellison wrote hundreds of columns for The Smoky Mountain News, which can be read by searching our archives at smokymountainnews.com.