Dad was a career Navy man, so we didn’t have a homeplace while growing up. I can remember at least 12 different residences before departing for college. There was no single house, no piece of land or even a town or region that was so precious or so much a part of my mother or father that they felt compelled to return to it when dad finally retired from the service.

I have this notion that my own children might feel differently when they grow into adulthood and leave to pursue their own dreams and their own lives. We’ve lived here — on a mountainside just outside Waynesville — since our eldest was two weeks old. I’ve seen plenty of evidence in the ensuing 13 years to know that these mountains get into people’s blood and in their heart. Locals and newcomers are firmly rooted to their homes and their land, whether that special place is on some street in one of our small towns, along a creek or next to a hayfield in a farming community, or up high on the side of a mountain.

But what if that intangible, almost spiritual allure of the Southern Appalachians disappears? Worse yet, what if we are the generation that allows it to happen, the ones cursed and cussed by our children and grandchildren who will accuse us of letting the mountains be ruined by overdevelopment or air pollution?

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These thoughts were running through my head as I drove over Balsam to Waynesville after watching a documentary called “Macon County Voices.” This documentary, which mixes statistical information with interviews of people from all walks of life, was put together by Carla Norwood and Gabriel Cumming (see story page 10). Norwood was formerly the executive director of the Little Tennessee Watershed Association, and Cumming is a classmate of hers in the ecology doctoral program at UNC-Chapel Hill.

Though their focus was on Macon County, the truth is that this project could have focused on any mountain county and the issues would be the same. From West Jefferson to Andrews, we’re all facing the same pressures.

The interviews were fascinating. People were asked to describe the things that connect them and their families to specific places in Macon County. The answers ran the gamut. Some described multi-generational ties to a farm while others who have lived here for a short time talked about the beauty of the mountains. Some talked of fishing and hunting while others spoke of a peaceful, slower pace of life.

Perhaps, though, what is most compelling about the project was the amount of statistical information that Norwood has spent many hours gleaning from a wide variety of sources. Taken together, the data had an almost chilling effect, a kind of tour de force of the change that is sweeping over this mountain region.

For instance, in 1983 Macon County’s entire acreage was divided into 22,000 property parcels. By 2003 there were 38,000 parcels. We often hear people — newcomers and locals alike — argue that they should be able to do what they want with their land. Well, one of the problems that presents is that there are a hell of a lot more people now who will be able to do what they want. That means a lot of different land uses, a lot of different ideas of what is acceptable and neighborly, and a lot more disagreements and arguments.

Another chart showed that 42 percent of those parcels are owned by people who live in other states. While that statistic in itself is interesting, what should probably concern us more is what that means for the future. A lot of people in other states own land here that is undeveloped. As these baby boomers begin to retire — which is happening right now — the build out on these parcels will mean a continuation of the steady and sometimes explosive growth that has been occurring in these mountains over the last 30 years.

Everyone who lives here knows that, in many ways, we have become dependant on the new home industry. As our factories have closed, construction has provided thousands of jobs. The people who come to live in those homes — and those who build them — eat in restaurants, buy furniture, buy cars and pay the taxes that allow us to build schools, pay teachers and provide all the other services that contribute to the quality of life we enjoy in these mountains. The seasonal residents, along with the tourists, are an integral part of the new mountain economy.

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The challenge is to embrace this growth without losing what is precious, and that is where elected leaders and others must get involved. There are a lot of people in this country who look at these mountains and see dollar signs. They know how special this place is, and they know that a whole lot of people want their own little slice of our heaven.

A county planner told me the other day about a conversation he had with a developer who was sitting in his office. The man has about 1,500 acres and came with a couple of associates to get all the details on that county’s regulations so they could begin moving dirt on their site.

“He asked me for a copy of our ordinances and I said there weren’t any. He just kind of shook his head,” says the planner. The man could not believe that local leaders had not enacted a long list of mandatory measures that had to be followed, things like road widths, slope requirements, lighting restrictions, tree coverage requirements, water and sewer regulations, ridgetop restrictions, etc. Some of our towns have addressed these issues, but the great majority have not.

The first step, I think, in finding ways to protect what is precious in these mountains is to do away with the stereotypes. This isn’t about locals versus outsiders, for instance. I know plenty of people who have had mountain land in their family for generations who can’t wait to find someone who will pay them top dollar for it. And it isn’t about being anti-growth versus pro-growth. It isn’t zoning versus anti-zoning. Developers are not bad guys.

No, I think the overriding pressure that we must deal with is simply money. There is suddenly a lot more of it in these mountains than there has ever been in the past. That is what is different. When that happens, we must rely on our local elected leaders to help us strike a balance between unfettered development and beneficial growth. It won’t be easy, but it is imperative, otherwise the land-use decisions will be completely in the hands of those who have money.

If that is what we are going to accept, I somehow think my kids and others won’t be coming back.

(Scott McLeod can be reached at info@smokymountainnews.com.)