In his autobiographical, At Home in the Heart of Appalachia, John O’Brien describes the blessings and sorrows of living in these wonderful mountains. He does an excellent job of defining the people of this region, warts and all. However, I was most affected by his insight into a recurring plague in mountain communities in Kentucky, West Virginia, eastern Tennessee and Western North Carolina. I am talking about the insidious curse of “the benevolent newcomer.”

Throughout his book, O’Brien recounts instances wherein civic-minded newcomers become a vital part of mountain communities, acquiring positions town boards, civic clubs and educational institutions. Frequently, they aggressively promote an agenda that will enhance the educational/civic/cultural/economic life of the community. O’Brien feels that they frequently succeed because their single-minded enthusiasm is discomfiting to stoic mountain folks. Rather than actively oppose these newcomers, the natives quietly withdraw, leaving the new members with the opportunity to “enrich and improve” with abandon.

Now, let us proceed with caution here. Admittedly, the “benevolent newcomer” is a mixed blessing. New members frequently revitalize passive (moribund) organizations — especially since they seem to have boundless energy and time. They enthusiastically plan and launch membership drives and fund-raising activities for cultural organizations such as community theatres and book clubs — sleepy little towns become vitally (and temporarily) alive in terms of culture.

However, there are areas of Appalachian life in which the influence of the “benevolent newcomer” is not only undesirable, it can prove to be downright destructive. Specifically, any issue that involves the community’s history and heritage should be left solely in the capable hands of the natives. Is it not fitting that the descendants of the original settlers should decide how their history, their folk life and their traditions should be preserved? Undoubtedly, this is a place where the newcomers should “butt out.” Unfortunately, this seems to be the area where they are most creative.

When the benevolent outsider becomes uncomfortable with the “alien” aspect this region’s culture and tradition (“alien because it is unfamiliar), he/she has a solution: convert it into something appealing! Smooth its rough edges; paint its unadorned surface; mold it into something more pleasing (and less authentic). If at all possible, find a way to make it marketable. I mean, what is it worth if you can’t sell it to somebody!

Unfortunately, the lines are never clear between what constitutes a county’s heritage and what is called “economic development.” The latter often becomes a part of the plans for a museum, a library or the preservation of a historic courthouse. The union of business and tradition isn’t bad if it can be done without rendering our tradition and history “quaint.”

Unfortunately, when folks who are not attuned to our culture have a free hand in depicting our past, the results are far from authentic. That is why we are getting a growing number of “quaintly designed” main streets in little mountain towns — streets that are described as “picturesque” but have nothing at all to do with the town’s history or heritage. Such streets — which are always lined with shops packed with colorful “memorabilia” — resemble hundreds of other shops and main streets throughout this country. In effect, shops in Dillsboro, Sylva and Waynesville are duplicates of shops in Gatlinburg, Dahlonega or Banner Elk. Authentic qualities that might have reflected the town’s uniqueness in terms of history and heritage have been sacrificed in order to promote someone’s idea of “the picturesque and quaint.”

This lack of authenticity is equally dismal in education. Many of our school systems now utilize a strange assortment of “cultural interpreters” — entities that have access to our schools where they inform students about the traditions and history of their region. In many instances, the ties of such interpreters to the culture that they “explain” are tenuous or non-existent. However, they are invariably entertaining! Our history is reduced to innocuous ditties and moralistic anecdotes — all slathered with a saccharine coat of nostalgia. Our forefathers dance with Native Americans, and the hardships of farming are related by colorfully attired actors in poke hats and bib overalls. One can only wonder about what school children think and learn as a consequence.

I would like to believe that, eventually, there will be a rallying point. Is it possible that eventually, a few stubborn folk will resist the efforts to convert our region and its people to colorful, congenial and marketable commodities? Maybe in the remote coves of Jackson County there are a few unrepentant subversives who go their own way and talk their own language. Perhaps they remember the past clearly and view the antics of the “town folk” with amusement. I hope so.

An old fellow in Tuckaseigee told me recently, “Me and mine, we will be alright as long as we don’t move to town.”

(Gary Carden is a writer who lives in Sylva. He can be reached at gcarden498@aol.com.)