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Smokey Mountain Vacation

Smokey Mountain Vacation

Decoration...A Smokey Mountain Tradition

 Decoration

In the small towns across the Smokey Mountains of Western North Carolina, large extended families are often connected to specific cemeteries dating back generations.  During the summer months, each of these cemeteries hosts a “decoration” where members of the family return to honor their ancestors.

My family comes from the mountains of western North Carolina.  About 10-15 miles from the Cherokee Reservation is the town of Bryson City.  If you're looking for a mountain vacation spot, this is it. 

The web site lists it as “one of the best whitewater paddling towns.”  I don’t know about that because we didn’t do any paddling; we tubed down Deep Creek instead.  It was the tourists who rafted on the Nantahala River.  Tubing is great fun and a lot less work.  Of course, the tourists didn’t go home with bruised butts.  We did.

Bryson City is home to Smokey Mountain National Park, Fontana Lake, great fishing, biking and hiking trails, and a good portion of the Blue Ridge Parkway. There aren’t any four star hotels, but the town has several highly rated bed and breakfast inns. Personally, I’m happy with several of the renovated motels that line the Nantahala on US-19 between Cherokee and Bryson.  

Just above the town are a number of roads that take you up a mountain or two.  These roads are not for the faint of heart.  Veer a little to the left, you run into the mountainside.  Veer a little to the right, and you plunge down the mountain.  So go slowly; you’ll live longer.  And unless you’re the driver, close your eyes. 

In the South, they're called 'hollers'.

As you drive up, you’ll see lots of roads leading off the main road that head up a small valley or sunken area on the mountain.  These are the hollers. I know the word is spelled ‘hollow’ but nobody I ever met in the state of North Carolina calls them that.  ‘Hollow’ sounds like something in New England.  In the south we have hollers so leave your dictionary and phonetically correct vocabulary at the rest stop just outside of town.  

My grandparents, Will and Edna Jane, lived in one of these hollers. The next holler over belonged to his brother.  I think of their addresses as “Will Howard Holler and Tooge Howard Holler”.  Yep we really did call him Tooge. (According to my sister, his real name was Tinker but I can’t confirm that.)

 I remember days, just sitting on the steps listening to the two of them jaw on about one thing or another.  They never tried to be funny; in fact I think they were trying for ‘crotchety’ (they achieved that too), but they never failed to amuse me.  These two old men could spin a story that would have us in tears; and never crack a smile.  It didn’t even have to be a story; it could be a conversation about a rock.  It’d still be hysterical.

Once when I was older, I spent an afternoon with Will at Christmas.  He made me help slop the hogs.  If you’re wondering…I don’t ever need to repeat that experience…just marked it off my ‘gotta do before I die’ list.  He also made fun of my city ways and weak stomach.  However, my aunt told me later that he said “she’s got some sense to her”. 

The man didn’t give out too many compliments so I wrote that down.

The family event that I look forward to more than any other; the one that brings me back to Bryson City every year, is Decoration. 

Bryson City, like many of the towns and villages in this area, has a few families that make up a large part  of the population.   Ours was one of them.  Each of the families has its own cemetery; overseen by a nearby church and usually populated by the family’s ancestors. During the summer months, each of these cemeteries hosts a “decoration”.

Church is generally suspended for the day as the preacher and many of the flock are down at the graveyard.  Folks bring trunk loads of fake flowers and wreaths.  A few might bring live plants and flowers, but the fake ones last longer.  And most of these flowers do not come in vases.  They are stuck straight into the ground.  Because the point isn’t to spend a fortune.  It’s to respect our ancestors.

My favorites are wreaths that come in unusual shapes.  You just can’t beat a wreath full of plastic flowers and shaped like a guitar …or the head of Elvis.   

My sister and I wander around meeting folks we almost, but not quite, remember from previous years.   As I age, I’m amazed at how much we all look alike.  And yet, people still pick me out as someone who ‘belongs’ to my dad or grandmother. And during the wandering and socializing, we are all sticking the flowers into the dirt around the graves. 

At ten a.m. sharp, the preaching starts under the big oak tree in the middle of the graveyard.  I could have called it a sermon, but that word doesn’t feel right.  Catholics have masses, Lutherans and Methodists have sermons; we have preaching.  There is always a small group there to perform some hymns accompanied by guitar. 

Our graveyard was started by my great (3 greats in fact) grandfather Abraham Wiggins, in the late 1800’s.  His wife died mid-winter and he could not get the body down the mountain for a burial so he buried her by the church. He was the preacher at Laurel Branch Baptist and started what would become Laurel Branch Cemetery.  I’m really glad he did. 

Decoration is an opportunity to connect with your ancestors.

Even as a little girl, I remember my dad dragging me from grave to grave.  At each one, he told us a little about the resident. Sometimes, it was the history or lineage of the person, and sometimes it was a story that had been passed down about them.  But he always made sure we realized it was once a real person and not just a name on a tombstone. 

He could have been kidding, but knowing his personality, I wouldn’t bet on it.

As a child, I would get very bored about an hour into the event.  As an adult, I want it to last all week.  Two things always strike me. 

One...I feel connected here.  There's just something about spending time with a few hundred people (living and dead) who share your DNA.

And two…The sheer beauty of the place just grabs me.  Trees that are hundreds of years old and shoot straight up into the sky.  Lakes and rivers and streams that haven’t met pollution yet.  And views that would cost millions in another, more populated location.

The cemetery looks out over all of this.  Its views are spectacular.

Not a bad place to spend eternity.   

 

Ronnie Milsap Live in Branson - Smokey Mountain Rain