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December 2025
STAFF
PUBLISHER/EDITOR
Amy Thurman
amy@roanmountainmagazine.com
ASSISTANT EDITOR
Ericka Hughes
GUN TALK WITH JON
Captain Jon Strydom
NEWS FROM THE ROAN CeCe Studer
PEACE OF MIND WITH CHRIS
Christopher Adams, LCSW HIGHLANDER HIGHLIGHTS
Cloudland High School Yearbook Staff
THE GRACE PLACE
Reverend Hunter Greene
SHORT STORY AUTHOR
Diana Tolley
THE LAST WORD
Noah Blair
STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER
Faith Lynn
ADVERTISING DIRECTOR
Susie Phillips
susie@roanmountainmagazine.com
SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER
Colleen Gainey
DISTRIBUTION MANAGER
Jay Rich
CONTRIBUTORS
Pam Bernardo • James Gray • Tom Niziol
Patrick & Jenn Rowland • Renee Russell
Teresa Stout • Carmelita Palmer Whitehead
19 Business Spotlight
Roan Mountain Soap & Candles is this month's featured business.
21 Resilient Roan
Renee Russell checks back in with Andrae Davis.
23 Memorial Poem
Ericka pays tribute to musician John Schaffner.
Our favorite weatherman Tom Niziol tells and shows us what these are.
27 Gift Guide
Tips for shopping for those who are hard to buy for.
28 Roan Remembered
First in a series looking back at days gone by. Featuring Mr. James Gray.
30 A Recollection
Mr. Gray shares memories of his father and C.R. Graybeal Flooring.
32 Park Survey Results
Results from the recent survey about park usage and future plans.
35 Snow Pictures!
Reader and staff photos from recent snows.
40 A Giving Journey
A short story about Christmas Eve, by Diana Tolley.
43 Just for Fun!
A photo of our Roan Mountain community Christmas Tree by Charity Gray.
Copyright © 2025
All content herein is copyright protected and may not be reproduced in whole or part without express written permission.
Roan Mountain Magazine is published monthly and can be found at multiple locations throughout the Roan Mountain area, free to readers. For print subscriptions, please contact us for info. (423) 440-9012
Read the Digital Version at: RoanMountainMagazine.com
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Mountain
by the Elizabethton
is
Letters to the Editor:
We would love to hear from you! Questions, comments, ideas, or whatever you’d like to share, please send to Amy: amy@roanmountainmagazine.com
Gun Talk with Jon Taste of the Roan Peace of Mind with Chris News from the Roan Highlander Highlights The Grace Place Fun Page
Lessons in Life/Landscaping The Last Word
Two Stellar Dendrites snow crystals, the smaller perfectly positioned at the top leg of the larger one. See Tom's article about snow crystals and more pictures on page 25.
Photo by Tom Niziol
Thanksgiving is one of my favorite holidays (and my favorite meal to cook) and it’s become even more special living in a climate that has a distinct fall season. And so, I resist any urge to start thinking about Christmas, at least until I’ve run out of leftovers from the big meal.
But this year it was hard because I felt the Christmas Spirit start nudging me with that first snow in early November. It didn’t help when I started seeing Christmas decorations coming out all over the place (you know who you are!), or that I did a little Christmas shopping Thanksgiving week so I could catch some gifts on sale. It felt a bit like the little kid in me kept asking, “Is it time yet? Is it time yet? Is it?”
Finally though, it was time to pack up all things fall and unleash all things Christmas! That little kid is singing Christmas carols and doing a happy dance, while wearing a Santa hat and fuzzy red Christmas socks, and oohing and aahing over every ornament I unpack.
I can’t help it! My son is here, it’s cold like December should be, there’s no better place on Earth to spend the holidays than these mountains, my tree is gorgeous, and I’ve been having such fun choosing or making gifts for those I love. What’s not to love?
I love unpacking all the Christmas decorations. It’s like seeing old friends. The Mr. Holly Berry my grandmother made for me when I was an infant. The old pinecone ornament I made in school as a child that has “Amy 1976” written on the bottom. The Pig Pen ornament Jay made after playing that character in a school play when he was little. The “Santa can” which is a tin can covered with felt to look like Santa that my daughter made when she was little. The plush Santa my oldest son got when he was in the hospital the December we learned he’d have to have a kidney removed. The ornaments my two oldest friends, Joyce and Kelly, and I have exchanged over the years. The brass bells from my friend Dorie. The annual ornaments I buy or make for each year (this year’s is a black bear with the Northern Lights pictured on its back). The ornaments depicting my fur kids, and fur kids no longer with me. The reindeer statue I love even though everyone says it’s creepy. I love them all and they’re a big part of the Christmas Spirit that fills me throughout December.
I love choosing or making, and giving gifts. Picking just the right things for each person on my list, wrapping them up with pretty red and green paper, decorating them with bows and ribbons, then putting them under the tree. I’m not good at keeping secrets so it’s a challenge I struggle with every year, but that’s overridden by anticipation. I can’t wait to see Jay’s face when he opens the … (Ha! Sorry Kiddo, you’ll just have to wait!) And then watching as those I love open their presents.
In our family, there’s always humor, too. My kids
Mr. Hollyberry, made by my grandmother, Dorothea Clements, when I was little bitty. The colors are faded and it's fragile now, but it's the first ornament I unpack each Christmas.
have opened presents to find a box of Ritz crackers or a gardening tool box that contained something they actually wanted. Or using a code on gift tags, so no one but me knows who the gifts are for. Changing the words to Christmas carols to funnier lyrics. Making “coal” Rice Krispies treats. Playing games at the kitchen table, which is always a riot of loud laughter.
It’s easy, and fun, to get caught up in it all, but what keeps me grounded in the real reason for the season is the music. While I love carols like Carol of the Bells or The Christmas Song (and my kids particularly love it when I sing Santa Baby!), the songs I love most are about the real Christmas Spirit. Hallelujah (the Cloverton Christmas version) nearly has me in tears every time I hear it, as do Mary Did You Know, and Lyndsey Stirling's, What Child is This. I love Do You Hear What I Hear, God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, and Oh Holy Night. These songs bring the Christmas Spirit fully alive for me.
Whatever your own Christmas traditions are, I hope you’re each enjoying them with those you love and that the Christmas Spirit fills you as we celebrate the birth of Jesus.
Have a happy New Year see you ‘round the Roan!
Amy Campbell Clark Editor amy@roanmountainmagazine.com
Let's play a game of "Imagine."
Imagine you're out in the wilderness with your partner, running your trap line, picking mushrooms and enjoying a beautiful day outside. A movement catches your eye and for a long moment it seems you can't breathe and your heart is hammering in your ears because the biggest grizzly bear you’ve ever seen is following your scent trail. He puts his nose to the ground and "whuffs" like they do, then stands up on his hind legs – taller than you ever believed a bear could get – and sniffs the air.
You realize the slight breeze is your Judas today, taking your scent, the smell of the food on your clothing, the smell of the goats you milked this morning, and that Judas breeze is telling that hungry bear you're going to taste as good as you smell.
So you hide. Among the roots of a wind-downed tree you crawl and try to make yourself small as a mouse. Your partner vanished like smoke as soon as he saw the bear, too. And the only weapon you have (if it could be promoted to the lofty title of weapon) is a very old, very worn out, single shot Cooey Ace .22 rifle. Small, like a child's very first BB gun. The single screw that holds the metal into the stock was lost long ago, so now it's held together with duct tape. But it's all you’d ever needed to dispatch small game caught in your trap line.
You can hear the bear breathing on the other side of the downed log. Slobbering saliva, it's so hungry. You think of your family, how they'd find small pieces of you, but mostly just bloody clothing scattered around. Like that hunter last December, they only found his jacket, one boot, and a bent, shattered rifle.
But you decide, "Not today, Satan." You carefully stand up and he's just 12 feet away, sniffing the air again but looking away from you. No time like the present, so you
By Captain Jon Strydom (aka African Jon)
put that one, single little .22 40-grain bullet exactly where you know the skull is thinnest, just forward of his earhole. That gigantic bear crashes down without another twitch. With shaking hands and numb fingers you reload from the loose bullets in your pocket. One by one you fire everything you have into that massive skull. Until you're sure it's never getting up again.
This actually happened. May 10, 1953, near Slave Lake, Alberta. Bella Twin was a Cree Indian woman, 63 years old, a few inches short of five feet tall, a grandma, and a lifelong trapper. She knew exactly where to place the shot for her only slim chance of survival.
The Boone & Crocket (B&C) big game record measuring system is considered the gold standard by hunters all over the world. B&C bear records are judged by skull size. This bear’s skull was 16 9/16 inches long and 9 14/16 inches wide, for a total score of 26 7/16 inches. That made it the world record grizzly at the time.
To wrap up this incredible tale I'd like to misquote Wyatt Earp, "Caliber is fine but accuracy is final." Or something along those lines, but you get the point. As always - be safe out there.
Ps. I'll be running the hot bluing process again in another week or two. If your firearms need attention - I'll give them some love.
Filling
1 heaping cup of sliced apples (cored and sliced)
1/3 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
small pinch freshly grated nutmeg
2 tablespoons cornstarch
2 teaspoons water
1/2 cup brown sugar (I used a 1/4 cup each of dark and light)
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
Cake
1/3 cup butter
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup applesauce
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
2 1/4 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 cup Greek or plain yogurt
Filling
Glaze
2 cups powdered sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla
6 tablespoons milk
• Combine apples, sugar, water, cinnamon and cornstarch in a small saucepan. Cook on low heat for 5 to 7 minutes, stirring constantly until the sauce is thickened and the apples are a bit soft.
• Set aside to cool. In a small bowl, mix the brown sugar and cinnamon together until well combined and set aside. Cake
• Preheat oven to 350°.
• Grease and flour a 9×13 baking dish. Set aside.
• Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
• Add applesauce and vanilla and mix till combined.
• Add the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.
• Sift the dry ingredients together.
• Add the dry ingredients to the batter in three parts alternating with the yogurt in two parts, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients.
• Beat until just combined.
• Spoon half of the batter into the prepared pan.
• Spoon the cooled apple mixture over the batter carefully and spread as evenly as possible.
• Sprinkle 2/3 of brown sugar cinnamon mixture over apples.
• Cover with the rest of the batter, then sprinkle the rest of the brown sugar cinnamon mixture over the top.
• Bake for 45-55 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.
I can't remember who gave me this recipe, but it's dated December 2020. I'll be making it again this year so thought I'd share it with y'all. It's very rich, but delicious, and a great way to use up the last of the fall apples, or some you've canned.
Don't worry about the calories. December calories don't count.
Merry Christmas!
• While the cake is baking, make the glaze. In a bowl, mix the powdered sugar, vanilla, and milk until the glaze is desired consistency.
• When the cake comes out of the oven, immediately pour onto hot cake. Try to pour as evenly as possible.
• Let the cake sit for awhile for the glaze to set.
When it comes to our emotions, we should not expect to feel good all the time. In a flawed world, bad days are unavoidable, and things won't always go as planned. There will be moments when you feel down, and in those instances, you may respond negatively to cope with those feelings. Driven by inherent limitations within psychology and psychiatry, both fields exhibit significant blind spots that leave us seeking a more comprehensive understanding. This is not a critique of these disciplines alone; rather, it reflects the reality that all studies of human behavior are fundamentally flawed. We should maintain a critical perspective, recognizing that no single individual possesses all the answers. In light of this, I offer a brief evaluation of how these issues manifest in mental health practice, drawing from my experience and knowledge in the field. To effectively address mental health challenges, it is essential to integrate spiritual care alongside physical treatment.
The medical model typically used in mental health treatment promotes diagnosis and is limited to the physical/medical aspects of our existence. Many behaviors are classified as disorders, rather than being labeled as sin. For instance, the seven deadly sins— pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony, and sloth—are linked to various mental health conditions:
Pride may relate to narcissistic personality disorder, characterized by arrogance and a sense of superiority. Pride, in fact, appears to be associated arguably with every mental health condition. It is, after all, everywhere we look.
Wrath can be associated with antisocial behavior, intermittent explosive disorder or general aggression. Envy appears in some personality disorders, often alongside entitlement and lack of empathy.
Lust might lead to guilt, anxiety, and emotional emptiness, especially when linked to compulsive or risky behaviors.
Gluttony correlates with eating disorders like bulimia and binge eating.
Sloth manifests as apathy or anhedonia, common symptoms of depression.
In short, Sin has tangible physical and emotional effects, and predicts mental health concerns. By limiting these items to diagnoses, per the medical model utilized in mental health treatment, we are avoiding their true causes. When we properly consider these conditions as disorders of behavior, also known as sin, then we can righteously heal. All conditions described as mental health diagnoses manifest as misaligned behavior. To label them with a diagnosis is only part of the issue, as it improperly ignores personal responsibility. When we correctly understand the conditions as disorders of behavior (sin), then we correctly identify a remedy – righteous behavior. We are directed to resist sinful behavior for
By Christopher Adams LCSW Licensed Therapist
multiple reasons, including to prevent mental health problems.
If you are on medication for mental health issues, consult your doctor about your goals. Do not change or discontinue your medication without medical advice. If you're considering reducing or stopping medication, follow your healthcare provider’s instructions. Abrupt discontinuation can be dangerous, so always seek medical guidance.
To effectively address mental health challenges, it is essential to integrate spiritual care alongside physical treatment. Ultimately, at the time of judgment before God, human knowledge alone is insufficient. Our understanding of mental health theories is not enough. The only true guide is the Word of God, the Bible. Our judgment will focus on our sinful behavior. The Bible is the ultimate authority for guiding our lives and mental health. If we follow God's Word and avoid sin, we can be free from behavioral disorders—what some call mental illness. Otherwise known as mental illness.
If I can help anyone improve their lives through counseling, it would be my privilege. I offer discounts to local customers who pay in cash, and I accept many commercial insurance plans.
Humbly yours, Chris
Tracy L. Jones, RN
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Roan Mountain State Park’s Visitor Center gift shop is your source for finding the perfect Christmas gift. We have a wonderful selection of souvenirs, ornaments, T-shirts, hoodies, figurines, jewelry, candles, mugs and more! We proudly feature local artists and vendors. We’re open daily from 8:00 am to 4:30 pm. Visit us to find the perfect gifts for everyone on your list!
Roan Mountain State Park has partnered with Wild Tribute and Conservation Fisheries, Inc. (a nonprofit working to restore and protect the hellbender population) to create exclusive hellbender T-shirts, hoodies, and stickers—available only at Roan Mountain State Park! Conservation Fisheries, Inc. has launched a new program to help protect the Eastern hellbender right here in East Tennessee and a portion of every sale helps support hellbender conservation and Conservation Fisheries. Wild Tribute donates 4% of their profits to nonprofit conservation causes. We’re proud to be part of this collaboration to bring more awareness to hellbender restoration in East Tennessee, while highlighting the incredible work Conservation Fisheries is doing to save this species from extinction. Show your support for these amazing creatures by stopping by our park gift shop to get your exclusive hellbender sticker and shirts, available in both adult and kid sizes!
By CeCe Studer Roan Mountain State Park
We are excited about our new addition to Roan Mountain State Park! On October 31, a ribbon cutting ceremony was held to celebrate the opening of the new Rosebay Ridge Trail and Backcountry Sites. Guests met at the park’s Visitor Center to hike a half mile to the junction of the Peg Leg Mine Trail and the new Rosebay Ridge trailhead. After the ribbon cutting, guests also hiked along the Rosebay Ridge Trail to the new backcountry camping sites, totaling 2.7 miles round-trip. Guests can now reserve one of three primitive backcountry campsites on our Rosebay Ridge Trail accessible from the Visitor Center area. Each campsite includes animal-resistant lockers and a fire ring. Come enjoy some solitude in the mountains alongside lush hardwood forests and vibrant Rosebay rhododendron groves, with stunning views of the Roan Highlands. Backcountry sites are by reservation only. To reserve, please call the park office at (423) 547-3900. Online reservations will be available in the future. Please visit our website for more information (https://tnstateparks.com/parks). Your outdoor adventure awaits at Roan Mountain State Park!
National Education Week was celebrated at Cloudland High School by appreciating all faculty and staff who work so hard to provide a quality education and a safe place for students to learn and grow.
The Future Teachers of America club, sponsored by Mary “Misty” Buchanan, celebrated the CHS family by showering them with small tokens of appreciation each day. A “Tater Tuesday” potato bar luncheon was provided by FTA members and Mrs. Buchanan for everyone to enjoy. The FTA funds the National Education Week, Teacher Appreciation Week activities and luncheons each year for Cloudland High School through fundraising and donation efforts.
Also on Wednesday during National Education Week, parents were treated to cocoa and cookies for National Parent Involvement Day during morning drop offs, provided by CHS school counselor, Shellie McKinney. It was a great morning to let parents know how much CHS values their involvement.
By Cloudland High School Yearbook Staff
Tupper Tip:
Out of brown sugar?
Don’t panic! Just add 1 tbsp of molasses to 1 cup of white sugar. For dark brown sugar - add more. Store in an airtight Tupperware container to keep it soft. Have a stress free baking season!
By Ericka Hughes
There’s a certain kind of strength that grows in these mountains — the kind you can’t fake, the kind that’s earned through years of giving your all, even when the world refuses to give you the same respect back. That’s the kind of strength that built Roan Mountain Soap & Candles, a woman-owned business run by Charlotte Nixon right here in the heart of our community.
Charlotte didn’t choose Roan Mountain by accident. She chose it because the mountains spoke to her — their beauty, their quiet, their honest way of standing tall through every season. She saw this place as a home for healing, creativity, and finally having the space to build something that was truly hers.
After a lifetime of working hard and offering her full heart, Charlotte found herself pushed aside one too many times. She told me plainly, with that fire only a mountain woman carries, “Freedom of territory when they don’t respect ladies’ opinions.” And with that, she carved out her own path. She stepped away from spaces that didn’t value her and poured her energy into a business that does the opposite — one rooted in care, craft, dignity, and the deep desire to help others.
In January of 2024, that dream finally became reality. Roan Mountain Soap & Candles began as a small operation with a powerful mission: to make good-quality, handmade products with love, and to keep them affordable for regular folks. Every bar of soap, every candle, every scent is crafted with intention. Nothing rushed. Nothing cut short. Just real, solid work built on pride and heart.
And more than that — Charlotte plans to build this business into a brick and mortar store and a place where women can thrive. She wants to hire local ladies and give them a workplace where they’re respected, listened to, and treated as equals. A place where their opinions matter. A place where they can stand tall, just like the mountains around us. For Charlotte, this business isn’t just about soap and candles. It’s about carving out a safe, empowering space for women who deserve better.
Today, she offers 16 year-round soap scents, all cold-processed and blended with oils like olive, coconut, and sunflower. Her candles are 100% soy wax
with cotton wicks — clean burning, long lasting, and poured with mountain calm.
One scent that shines especially bright this time of year is her Frasier Fir. It smells like stepping straight into a winter memory — fresh pine, cold air, and that warm feeling of coming home. It’s the kind of scent that fits the holidays perfectly, whether you’re preparing your home for family gatherings or just wanting the comfort of a mountain Christmas filling your space.
Charlotte also creates custom gift baskets, packing her soaps, candles, and handmade goods together with the same love she puts into each product. They make perfect gifts for the holidays, birthdays, or those quiet moments when you just want to send someone a little mountain comfort.
Delivery is available — all you have to do is call for details: (423)-579-8201
Roan Mountain has always been a place where the best things are made with hand, heart, and persistence. Charlotte Nixon carries that tradition forward. Her story is one of reclaiming respect, reclaiming space, and building something beautiful from grit and grace.
If you’ve ever wanted a piece of these mountains to take home — something real, something honest, something crafted with love — you’ll find it in every bar of soap and every candle she pours.
www.roanmountainsoapandcandles.com
By Renee Russell
You might remember an article in the April issue about Andrae Davis, a young baker who graduated from Cloudland High School last December. His commercial kitchen had been completely destroyed by Hurricane Helene; no more “Cakes By Andrae.”
Or so we thought. However, Andrae’s strength and determination to start over was stronger than Helene’s devastation and he began his new journey by enrolling in Walter State Community College. Since then, God has blessed him even more.
Andrae describes his life these days as, “Stressed, blessed and Dolly obsessed.” The stress is fueled by his need to see his dreams become a reality now. Blessed relates to the many incredible goals he’s been able to achieve since the first article, and how God has answered his prayers. As to Dolly Parton, we’ll come back to that in a minute.
One of Andrae’s dreams was to one day purchase a food truck. Many told him it was too soon to start this, especially since this wasn’t long after the hurricane devastation.
“I believed the food truck would balance my imbalance,” he said. He’d had this plan for years, but just knew it was time, so although he was advised to wait, he purchased the truck. He now runs a part-time business, participating in many food events and selling his delectable delights, and this allows him to still attend his classes.
He’s also fulfilled another long-time dream of working in the food industry at Dollywood. As was noted in the previous article, Dolly Parton has always been Andrae’s role model, so he was determined to make this happen.
This determined, positive, and gifted young man has a strong work ethic enabling him to realize his dreams, but Andrae credits Dolly for a large portion of his achievements. “She feels like a favorite aunt to me, and has always been an important part of my life. I’ve had many interactions with her and, aside from God, she is my number one inspiration regarding giving back to others and also never losing sight of who you are. My favorite song of Dolly’s is Coat of Many Colors. I love it because of the story it tells.”
Andrae’s work experience at Dollywood takes him beyond baking – it’s teaching him how to operate a large-scale bakery, interact more personally with large crowds of people, and to be a multitasker and problemsolver who often works beyond his regularly scheduled hours. He said that his motto, “Baking makes my life
sweeter,” helps him push through the tough times. Dolly is not his only celebrity interaction, as he has also appeared (and baked) with famous food star, Paula Deen (four times) and is preparing for his next baking experience with this food legend.
“Paula feels like family to me. She has welcomed me like her own, and is so real and down-to-earth. We are so much alike, as we are country-raised, and she advises me to keep pushing ahead even if I don’t feel up to it. She believes that the more I work, the more I will be blessed.” As she stated to him, “So don’t stop … just keep on keeping on.” Andrae also noted that both he and Paula place God first in their lives, and are highly committed to their extremely strong work ethics.
In addition to attending college, working at Dollywood, baking with celebrities, and managing his food truck business, Andrae is also helping a 13-yearold, baking-driven young man, Asher Grindstaff, achieve his own baking goals. “This boy reminds me so much of myself and after meeting him at a food event, I immediately reached out to help him,” Andrae said.
Andrae credits his work ethic to his father through both example as well as being taught this life lesson. “My dad said that an object in motion will always be in motion.” Andrae also learned something very important from his mother: her love for life. She taught him to have fun and to enjoy and appreciate life with enthusiasm and passion.
Although Andrae has achieved so much in such a short time, his goal-setting continues. His future plans include opening a bakery in the Tri-Cities area, becoming a baking “star,” appearing on TV, and cooking and appearing with other celebrities. He has already accomplished most of these, but he is determined to continue. He also has a huge and inspiring dream of helping to rebuild and restore areas in Roan Mountain that are run down and dilapidated, as well as help those in need who live here. “Like Dolly, I want my success to include giving back to my community. I want to be able to afford to help others reach their dreams, and contribute to my home community in many ways.”
We look forward to following his success as he “Keeps on keeping on” with his dreams!
We would all like to wish Andrae a Happy 19th Birthday this December 19!
There are people who leave footprints on the earth, and people who leave footprints on the heart. John Schaffner did both.
We remember his smile first, warm, wide, carrying a light you couldn’t ignore. It was the kind of smile that made you believe the world wasn’t so heavy, not when he was around. And his laugh!
Unstoppable, rolling through the air like a river in spring, catching everyone it touched and carrying them far from worry, far from doubt.
John knew the land like no one else. He could see the way the soil wanted to breathe, the way a seed begged for life, and he answered. He walked the hills and hollers with a quiet authority, living simply, living fully, tending the earth as if it were a part of him—because it was. Every tree, every stream, every hidden hollow felt his care, his hands, his steady presence.
And the drums—oh, the drums. He didn’t just play them. He spoke through them. Each beat was a lesson, a heartbeat, a story. He taught more than rhythm; he taught patience, He taught joy, he taught connection. Even when words failed, the drums spoke.
And those who learned from him carried a piece of him in their own hands, a pulse in their own veins, a rhythm in their steps.
John gave light freely, effortlessly. He had a way of seeing the best in people, even when they couldn’t see it in themselves. He brought out laughter, he brought out hope, He made the ordinary extraordinary.
Now he’s gone, and the hills feel quieter, but his spirit lingers. In the rustle of leaves, in the beat of a drum, in the memory of a smile that could light up a room. He taught us how to live, how to care, how to feel deeply. He taught us the rhythm of life—steady, true, unstoppable.
John Schaffner may have left this world, but the life he gave, the lessons he shared, and the light he carried will never fade. We honor him, we remember him, and we carry him forward with every seed we plant, every drum we play, every laugh we share.
Forever a teacher, a friend, a keeper of life’s rhythm.
Photos and Story by Tom Niziol
Is there anything more magical than snowflakes in winter? If you’ve ever lived in a snowy area, you know the joy of watching them dance through the air before landing softly on the ground. Who hasn’t caught snowflakes on their tongue, whether as a kid or an adult? But if you take a moment to look closely at these little wonders of nature, you’ll find there’s so much more to discover!
Since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated by the weather, and winter has always held a special place in my heart. My real love for snowflakes—more accurately called snow crystals—started when I worked on cataloging the incredible glass plate photographs taken by Wilson Bentley, the pioneer of snowflake photography.
Bentley was a farmer from Vermont in the late 1870s with a big curiosity about nature. His parents invested in one of the first cameras for him, and over his lifetime, he captured thousands of stunning images of snow crystals. (If you’re curious, look him up—"Snowflake Bentley.") Those original glass plates can be found at the Buffalo Museum of Science, which happens to be in the same town where I was born and where I worked for the National Weather Service. Working on this project really inspired me to try photographing snow crystals myself, and I’m glad to say that passion has only grown since then!
When I moved to Tennessee, I hoped to still catch a few wintery days to photograph snow crystals, and thankfully, Mother Nature has continued to bless me with this delightful hobby.
So, what is a snow crystal? It’s the tiny, individual elements that come together to form those beautiful snowflakes we all know and love. Believe it or not, a single snowflake can be made up of hundreds of these
tiny crystals! Snow crystals begin forming when water vapor (that’s the gas form of water) deposits on tiny bits of dust floating in the air, creating six-sided, or hexagonal, ice crystals. It’s the unique properties of water molecules in their frozen state that give these crystals their six-sided shapes.
Each snow crystal has its own story to tell, shaped by the different layers of moisture and temperature it encounters in the atmosphere as it falls to the ground. Each crystal takes a little different path on the way down to earth, so it grows a little differently than its neighbor. That’s why we often say, “no two snowflakes are alike.” While scientists can replicate some snow crystal shapes in a lab under controlled conditions, each crystal will still have its own little differences down to the molecular level, even when viewed up close.
Most of the snow crystal photos I've included here were taken from my home at an elevation of 3,800 feet on Roan Mountain during a chilly snap in mid-November this year. I use a slab of black glass to capture the crystals, making it easier to photograph the details. I included a crystal I captured at the end of an artist’s paintbrush to show just how small they are. If you’re interested in capturing your own snow crystal photos, feel free to check out my blog for tips: https://tinyurl.com/yeymtx4f.
I know many people have a strong connection to the outdoors here, which is part of what makes Roan Mountain such a special place to me. So, as you embrace this winter season, remember to take a moment to appreciate the beauty all around you—whether it’s the lovely birds, flowers and insects during the warm months or, in this case, the amazing little wonders of winter that Mother Nature has created!
Warm wishes, Tom Niziol
Right, a Sectored Plate. Notice the repeated 6-sided figures, a star shape at center, then a hexagon and out to another 6-sided star and finally six legs.
By Amy Campbell Clark
Here we are in December, in the thick of the holiday season, attending Christmas parties, listening to Christmas music, shopping and wrapping and counting down to Christmas Day. And if you’re anything like me and did NOT start shopping in July (I seriously envy people who are that organized), there are likely still gifts to take care of on your list.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to prefer giving gifts that have meaning, rather than just stuff that’s eventually forgotten, loses appeal or wears out. Of course, if you have young children, they want toys, and young adults might need things for starting out, but the adults on your list likely buy what they want and need, and it can be challenging to choose gifts for them.
Here are some ideas that might help.
Locally crafted gifts
These items serve a dual function in that they can make great gifts and support local artisans. There are countless creators in our area and you can find anything from locally produced honey to music CDs from local musicians, from handmade candles and soaps to handmade Christmas ornaments or paintings of our area, and much, much more.
While you can find some locally crafted items at the State Park Visitor Center, I would also encourage all local artisans to share your creations on local Facebook pages so we can find you! Roan Mountain Magazine will be happy to help promote your wares on our page, as well. Reach out to us on Messenger.
Decorating my tree each year brings back a host of memories, from ornaments I made as a child to ornaments my kids made, ornaments I’ve been given by friends, and others I’ve purchased or made to commemorate occasions throughout the years. Yes, my tree is an eclectic hodge-podge, but I love it!
Memories don’t have to be in the form of ornaments though. I’m in the process of going through the family photos and creating albums for each of my adult children. One year I made a shadowbox for a friend with little tidbits of our shared adventures. You could also frame photos of special occasions for family or friends, or have them printed on canvas.
Something personal
Gifts that pertain to things your family and friends enjoy doing, are curious about, or would like to learn are sure to be enjoyed. A book on crochet (with an inexpensive set of hooks and some yarn that’s easy to work with), a book on gardening (and a set of gardening hand tools), or a book on photography are just some ideas. Encourage those who want to learn to do something new.
Or make something yourself – potholders for the cook on your list, a scrapbook for an old friend, a Bible verse in a frame, a plant you started in a pretty pot, the possibilities are endless.
You could also give something old a new lease on life. I have a set of 1936 dictionaries that, as a writer, I treasure. My son came across something I wish I’d thought of – he loves Legos and found copies of original Lego patents that he printed and framed. A good friend found an old planer in an antique shop that she gave to a woodworking family member. Another friend found an old (but sturdy) wooden cane in a thrift shop, painted it in vibrant colors and gave it to her grandmother.
Determining things or activities that make someone happy and finding just the right gift not only makes gift giving fun, but also guarantees the gift will be genuinely appreciated.
Regardless of what you give or receive, I hope you all make beautiful memories with those you love and that you remember the real reason we celebrate Christmas.
In this issue, we’re beginning a new series: Roan Remembered, in which we’ll interview folks in the community and take down their memories. Stories of days gone by, people, places, and the old ways. We’ve started with Mr. James Gray, who, at the age of 84, is without a doubt one of our community elders. We currently have a list of about eight other elders but are always interested in adding more. Please reach out if you have names or ideas for this series and look for more in coming issues.
By Ericka Hughes
There are some people in Roan Mountain whose stories feel stitched right into the land itself—woven through memory, soil, and the rhythm of everyday life. Mr. James ‘Jimmy’ Evans Gray, is one; a man whose life mirrors the rise and fall of the very place he calls home. When I spoke with him for this interview, he responded with a gentle honesty, and a lifetime began unfolding, one memory at a time.
What struck me most was not only the detail of his stories, but the truth in them—the unpolished kind that comes from a man who has lived long enough to see the world change, and is rooted enough to remember the way things once were.
This is the legacy of Mr. Gray—a story of family, faith, the mountains, the railroad that once ran practically through his front yard, and the life lessons that shaped the man behind his book, Jimmy and Roan Mountain Or Passing the Muster Test.
on the Mountain
When I asked Mr. Gray about his earliest memories of Roan Mountain, he didn’t hesitate. He went straight to the bond with his brother Dana, two and a half years younger, and the two were nearly inseparable. “We were together all the time,” he said, and the warmth in his voice made it clear—this wasn’t just childhood; this was partnership, adventure, and survival all in one. Mr. Gray came from a big mountain family with
eight children – six boys and two girls. Their home sat in Carter County, but the heart of their life beat right here in Roan Mountain. His father worked in Johnson City as a hardwood flooring shield dryer for Harris Manufacturing Company, work was rugged and exact. It wasn’t glamorous work, but it was steady, honest, and part of the rhythm of life back then. Saturdays were for setting lumber in the dry kilns, letting it cool over the weekend, and getting it ready for the machines come Monday. And sometimes the kids were allowed to go along. They would make their way to Johnson City or Elizabethton, sometimes by train, sometimes by bus, sometimes in that old 1940 Plymouth.
To a child, those weekly trips were an adventure— and Mr. Gray remembers now just how different the roads used to be. He laughed as he described the old Highway 19E, the one he said was “crooked as a dog's hind leg.” Back then, 19E was steep, narrow, and twisting so sharply that the drive from Roan Mountain to Elizabethton took nearly an hour. “Our Plymouth could only do thirty-five, maybe forty, on those roads,” he said. “On a larger road, it might do fifty or sixty. But not up through there. You had to be careful.”
And when I asked him what makes him smile when he thinks back to those early days, his answer was simple: “Our life of living and eating.” The way families gathered food, cooked together, and lived off what they had—it wasn’t just survival. It was a community. It was a joy. It was a way of life.
One of the strongest memories Mr. Gray carries is tied to the railroad—because, as he told me, it “ran practically right through our front yard.” The trains were more than machines; they were the heartbeat of Roan Mountain.
As a boy, he learned that if you needed to get somewhere, the railroad tracks were the quickest path. “We’d walk the tracks,” he said. Whether heading to a neighbor’s house, slipping off toward town, or just exploring the world the way boys do, the tracks were dependable. You knew where you were going. You knew where you’d end up. And you could count on the
ground under your feet.
Over time, though, the trains slowed. Fewer whistles. Less movement. And eventually, silence.
“It was a sad time for the community,” he said— not with bitterness, but with the soft acceptance of someone who witnessed change he wished hadn’t come. The railroad wasn’t just transportation; it was a connection. Identity. A way of life for generations in Roan Mountain. “When it stopped,” he said, “something in the town stopped with it.”
Mr. Gray didn’t stay in one place his whole life. His story carries him across states—Florida, Washington, down to Charlotte, even up to Pittsburgh for nearly a year in the early 1960s. But home has a way of calling people like him back.
He married Pauline, daughter of Tom Morgan from Ripshin, and together they raised three children: Janie, Karen, and Jeff. The kids forged the same kind of mountain memories their father once formed.
Service, Sacrifice, and Strength
it. If they did, well, that meant something special. That phrase shaped so much of his life—who he kept close, what paths he followed, and what lessons he held on to. It became the title of his book because it wasn’t just a memory. It was a compass.
Mr. Gray’s mother had been through more hardship than most people experience. She watched three of her brothers struggle with drinking, and two suffered “Jake Leg” from poisonous illegal whiskey during Prohibition. Another uncle gambled so much he stayed broke nearly his entire life. Because of that, she taught her six sons two rules she wanted burned into their bones: Stay away from alcohol. Stay away from gambling.
Those lessons stuck.
When I asked Mr. Gray what he wants people to remember most about Roan Mountain, he didn’t hesitate. He wants the land kept the way it is— pristine, untouched, protected. He’s seen what overdevelopment did to Western North Carolina. He’s watched Gatlinburg lose its quiet charm. He worries about the migration of so many folks pouring into mountain regions.
8th Infantry Patch, 1959-1960
Before the family chapters, before the wandering, there was the Army. Mr. Gray trained at Fort Jackson during a time when the military was still built with the backbones of men who had fought in Korea and World War II. His instructors were the real thing—hard, direct, shaped by battle— and they taught him with a clarity that only comes from experience. He served as a tank mechanic in Bamberg, Germany, during the Cold War. Their division worked with tanks, APCs, artillery, and infantry rifle companies. East and West Germany were still sharply divided, and the Soviet threat loomed heavily over everything.
His voice didn’t tremble or brag when he told me about it. He stated it simply—like a man sharing a fact about weather he’d once lived through.
Book
Mr. Gray wrote a book about growing up in Roan Mountain: Jimmy and Roan Mountain Or Passing The Muster Test. It began with encouragement from his wife and son – Pauline had written a book as well and this inspired him. His son, Jeff, works in publishing and helped bring his words to life.
One of the most important themes in the book is the Muster Test. It’s an old mountain idea—a way of saying your choices have to pass approval of your elders, your family, your people. If somebody or something didn’t pass muster, you’d hear about
“Roan Mountain is God’s gift to us,” he said. “And I hope they never chop it up.”
For the Next Generation
His message to future generations comes from deep in his heart:
“Keep your family close. Stay connected. Don’t drift. Don’t forget who you belong to.”
He remembers when neighbors helped raise each other’s kids, when big families gathered weekly and when a mother’s holler from the porch carried across the fields at suppertime. He remembers a life where people didn’t need digital screens or noise to feel full. Those memories aren’t just things he lived, they’re things he treasures.
Mr. Gray worked at the hardwood mill, Gray Mills, as a junior in high school, following the path of his father and brothers. Because of child labor laws, they kept him away from the saws, but even the safe jobs taught him toughness, work ethic, and the value of doing a job right. His life threads through railroads and mountains, military service and family, trips along crooked 19E, and quiet evenings on Ripshin. His story is not just personal—it’s part of Roan Mountain’s story. A legacy, preserved. A life well lived. A mountain man, through and through.
By James Evans Gray
In the late 1940s or early 1950s, C.R. Graybeal decided to build a hardwood flooring plant in Roan Mountain. His raw material was plentiful here in the heart of the Southern Appalachian Mountains, more lumber than was needed for 10 lifetimes. Talent and knowledge was scarce; he had plenty of tree and forestry talent, but men to tell him how, where and when were scarce in this part of the world.
Just a few miles west of here, in Johnson City, was a thriving hardwood flooring district. There were three plants producing millions of footage of on a weekly basis: Harris Hardwood Flooring, Miller Brother’s Mill, and Sells Flooring Plant.
Several men who lived in Roan Mountain worked in those plants. One of those men was my father, Thomas Marion Gray, who worked at Harris.
My father wasn’t a native of Roan Mountain. His family was from Rutledge, in Granger County, east of Knoxville. In 1903 Granger County had a Flu epidemic and my father lost his father, a brother and a sister, leaving behind Thomas, his sister Jennie, and their mother, Stronia.
With no husband and two small children, my grandmother had to move from Rutledge to her father’s farm in Lee Springs. There, she traveled to Knoxville for work. Being raised on a farm, everyone had chores, no matter your age, which was the case for most in
those days. My grandmother worked as a food handler in the large dining hall of a hotel, where she met Tom Pritchard. He was there on a buying trip for his store in Roan Mountain. They eventually married and he moved the family from Lee Springs to Roan Mountain. Tom had three children from his late wife, and in a short time, he and my grandmother had two boys, making it a family of “yours, mine and ours.”
So around 1908 when Tom Pritchard stepped off the E.T. & W.N.C. with a new wife and two new children, the first person my dad met was a young girl named Florence Julian. Her best friend was Bertha Mae Archer.
Thomas M. Gray was a natural when it came to math and common sense. He could walk up to a pile of sawmill lumber, look at it, and tell you the linear footage. After he did his mind math, they would manually measure the lumber and he was always very close, just by sight.
As a young man, he was a store clerk and he later clerked for S.B. Wood’s Drugstore. He also mined coal in Virginia. When Highway 19E was first proposed in 1929, he worked for the State of Tennessee as a highwayman and surveyor, and in the 1950s when 19E was being built, he pointed out to me and my brother Dana where he’d helped to survey it in 1929. I asked him why it was so curvy when they built it and he said some people had influenced the State to make the road
come by their houses.
Dad worked at Harris for 25 years and at close to 60 years of old, I could understand him wanting to cut out those trips to Johnson City six days a week and go to work for C.R. Graybeal. When he was an employee at the Harris plant, with the permission of the owner, he helped set up the Roan Mountain mill plant, and when it was up and running, he resigned from Harris and came to Graybeal’s as a full-time employee. I have no idea how long he was at Graybeals, but even after the flooring mill quit, he still stayed.
Like all things in life, the hardwood flooring and building ways came to a halt when concrete and steel framing took over. But the people of Roan Mountain would be surprised at how much of the flooring they made is in the apartments of Washington, D.C., Newark, N.J. and New York, N.Y. Many truckloads and boxcar loads went up there.
Graybeal flooring was of the best quality made; they bought the best lumber and it was made under the best quality conditions. Dad did not allow shortcuts in the making, he was always checking as it came through the mill on conveyor belts. They used leather belts, not roller beds made of metal that would scratch or cut your smooth finished surface, which would affect the grade of your product in the end.
The Roan Mountain mill had only five sawing machines. Charlie Morgan was the head mechanic and Plez Miller was his junior worker. Charlie did all the electrical and machine work, while Plez only worked on the machinery and belts.
When it came to lumber, Dad had the final say. He was the quality control on the condition and grade of the lumber. There were several grades of flooring: The tree type (red or white, oak, maple, beech, etc.), the width of the lumber, the quality of lumber, how many knots in a piece, and even the shade of brightness of the grain.
All this was decided by the mill grader and at one time, my brother Dana was the plant grader. He’d been trained by Dad and been a plant grader at Harris. He was only a teenager – he’d quit high school to work in the mill, and Dad trained him well. I had to agree to finish high school but got to work in the mill between 11th and 12th grade.
Graybeal’s had a single line production, while Harris and Miller Brothers had more lines. The more lines you had, the more “dry” you needed, and to keep you in dry lumber, the stock yards had to be larger. Harris stacked lumber more than 70 feet high and had lifts to reach the top. Graybeal’s was stacked about 25 feet high. Lumber had to air dry for months before it was ever put onto a dry truck.
All around the Appalachian Mountains and Roan Mountain were small saw milling set-ups who cut lumber to be trucked to the mills in Johnson City, to Roan Mountain, and to furniture plants in Hickory, N.C. Mr. Graybeal told Dad he wanted good quality
wood, and not to accept low quality lumber. It didn’t take long for word to get around about Graybeal’s: No scrap, only top quality. Graybeal was competing with the best so they had to match them.
When I was in 5th or 6th grade I made my second trip to the top of Ripshin in a lumber truck with Dana. The driver was Champ Montgomery who drove a school bus and drove a lumber truck during school hours. We ran up on him at the flooring mill one summer day and he was going to Ripshin to pick up a load of lumber. He knew us from school and invited us to go with him. Well we were ready for that! So we climbed into the truck cab and rode up to the saw mill, in a field off the Jack Elliot Lane.
At that time, the Jack Elliot Lane was very steep. On the way back down, Champ told Dana and me to ride on top of the lumber and hold onto the chains. He did this so if anything went wrong with the truck brakes, we could jump off when we went into the lake at the bottom of the incline. Everything went alright though and when we got back on Ripshin, we got back in the cab and went back to Roan Mountain. That summer we made several trips with Champ. You can rest assured our mother did not know about those trips with Champ on his lumber truck!
Many thanks to Mr. Gray for sharing this story with us.
Roan Mountain Magazine will be talking with many in our community to share memories, stories, and photos in future issues. To share your stories, please get in touch with us. Email address and phone number can be found on page 5. We want to hear from you!
Prepared by Roan Mountain Recreation Foundation
Roan Mountain Community Parks have a history deeply intertwined with both local resilience and community spirit. Established in the wake of a devastating flood in 1998, the parks were created as a space for locals to come together, and to preserve the rich history of Roan Mountain. The three parks include Erik Anderson Park, located on 19E behind the town post office, The Children’s Playground Park on Stratton Street in the village, and the Disc Golf Course on 19E going toward Elizabethton.
Damage from Hurricane Helene
In 2024, Hurricane Helene hit the region, causing severe damage. The storm resulted in significant flooding, landslides, and erosion, which led to even more destruction of park infrastructure and the surrounding landscape. The damage was so extensive that much of the parks needed to be rebuilt once again.
Current Rebuilding Phase and Master Plan
The parks are currently in a rebuilding phase, with the goal of enhancing and expanding the offerings to better serve the community. The Roan Mountain Recreation Foundation (RMRF) is actively collaborating with the Overmountain Victory Trail Association (OVTA) to create a master plan for development. The OVTA, which is dedicated to preserving and interpreting the historical significance of the Overmountain Victory Trail (a historic route used during the American Revolution), brings its expertise in historical preservation and public park planning to the table.
The master plan aims to guide future development focusing on improving amenities, enhancing accessibility, and ensuring preservation of the park’s natural and historical features. Collaboration between the local community and organizations like the OVTA is crucial step toward ensuring that the park remains a vibrant and sustainable asset for future generations.
As part of the development of a master plan, RMRF developed a community survey to assess the park needs of our local population. The survey was posted on several social media sites including the RMRF Facebook page and other community Facebook pages,
as well as here in Roan Mountain Magazine, so people could follow the link or show their phones the QR Code to take them directly to the survey. Additionally, paper copies of the survey were available at Carter County Bank in Roan Mountain. Well over 100 residents took the survey. Results were compiled and will be summarized in this report.
The goal of the survey was to assess several aspects of community involvement with the parks. To begin with, we wanted to get an idea of how often the parks are used; i.e. daily, weekly, monthly, annually or have not yet visited.
Nearly 80 % of respondents visit the park at least weekly or monthly, 16% use the park on a daily basis, 5% had visited on an annual basis and one respondent had not yet visited the park. This certainly confirms the observations that the park is used on a regular basis.
We then wanted to assess the community’s prioritization of several ideas to revitalize the parks. The list of potential projects was developed by RMRF with the understanding that, because the parks are in the flood plain, there are several restrictions as to what can and cannot be built. As an example, permanent structures are not allowed. Finally, the survey allowed for additional suggestions/comments to enhance the revitalized parks.
Proposed projects included:
• Rebuild and improve the walking path trails (possibly connect the two parks)
• Add historical information throughout the park
• Rebuild the disc golf course
• Add exercise opportunities; pickleball courts, basketball court, soccer field, or exercise stations
• Bring back the community garden
• Create natural growing areas such as wildflower meadows
• Improve parking areas
• Create fishing opportunities access to the riverbank (maybe rebuild the fishing piers)
• Rebuild playground and picnicking area (shelter)
When ideas were ranked by the community, they tended to cluster into three groups; the priority goes from 1 (low) to 4 (high)The highest priority group was shared among three choices:
• Rebuild playground and picnicking area (shelter)
• Rebuild and improve the walking path trails (possibly connect the two parks)
• Add physical/exercise opportunities; pickleball courts, basketball court, soccer field, or exercise stations
The second highest priority group was shared among four choices:
• Bring back the community garden
• Create fishing opportunities access to the riverbank (maybe rebuild the fishing piers)
• Create natural growing areas such as wildflower meadows
• Improve Parking
The lowest priority group included the following two choices:
• Add historical information throughout the park
• Rebuild the disc golf course
Other Suggestions
Finally, the survey included room to provide additional suggestions/comments to enhance the revitalized parks, as summarized below. A preliminary reply from RMRF is also included:
• Horseshoe pits – A great idea that would easily be doable in any of the 3 parks.
• Farmers market – We could bring this back and try it during the summer; it was done years ago but interest fell off to a point that it was not cost-effective for vendors.
• Bike path – The walking trail could serve bikes as well, but the distance of the trail system would be too short for a decent bike path.
• Dog park – As much as it might seem feasible, the maintenance of a dog park area would be beyond the scope of the limited volunteer team that maintains the park.
• Several mentions of a pool or splash pad. A pool is not possible for many reasons, but foremost is that it would not fit into the regulations of building in the flood plain. A splash pad was also mentioned, but in addition to flood plain issues, maintenance of this feature would be beyond the scope of an all-volunteer group that maintains the park.
• Extend walking path to disc golf course - Although RMRF would love to tie all three parks together, the land between the Erik Anderson Park and the disc golf course is privately owned and would need a right-ofway agreement with the owners. Something to look into in the future.
• Expand concert area - Another great idea that may be in longer term plans.
• Community exercise center – Would be a huge benefit to the town. However, once again, no structures
can be built in a flood plain. It might be a community idea to look into any vacant buildings currently in the town for a facility like this.
The input from our community was overwhelming in such a positive way. It reinforces the fact that people want a place within Roan Mountain they can go to for exercise, entertainment and just to relax. Based on the responses to the survey, the top priorities chosen by the public mirror the priorities that RMRF feels would be the “best bang for the buck” to get our community back into the parks.
The stage and shelters, as well as the kitchen and bathroom area had relatively minor to moderate impacts from the flood. They are all operational now. The walking trail was probably the most used asset on a regular basis by the public and it fittingly deserves a top priority. Right there with the trails is the need for a new playground. RMRF has been working with a few companies to get bids on building a bigger/ better playground with universal access for everyone. There were many comments on exercise resources including several requests for pickleball courts and basketball courts. These ideas will need to be reviewed to determine if they can be constructed within the flood plain designation of the community parks. RMRF will be working with county, state and federal agencies to hopefully get approval to move forward with these ideas.
The Roan Mountain community parks took 25 years of hard work by dedicated volunteers to bring it to the point we were at before Helene hit. It cannot be rebuilt in a year or two, but with lots of hard work, and an influx of new volunteers, hopefully we can restore the parks to the beautiful community resources they once were.
For more information you can contact RMRF at roanmtnrf@gmail.com.
Thank you to readers and staff who contributed photos! If you'd like to have your pictures included in future issues, follow our Facebook page for requests!
By Patrick and Jenn Rowland
By Ericka Hughes
By Reverend Hunter Greene
God with us. What an absurdity. What a contradiction. What an impossibility. And yet, that is the claim that Christians all around the world profess to be true in their every act of worship and service. This radical claim stands to confound the “Jesus is the reason for the season” crowd, because God becoming flesh to accept our frailty, limitations, and struggles demands that we reckon with the possibility that Jesus is, in fact, the reason and goal of all things.
The scandal of “God with us” is why Christmas – and really the entire Advent season – is my favorite on the Christian calendar. That’s certainly not to throw shade at the other holiday big hitters like Easter, All Saints, or Pentecost, but for me, it is God’s incarnation, His becoming human, that brings power and significance to all the rest – both our church holiday calendars and our lives.
Christmas truly is the paradigm for the Christian life, and in so many ways, it should set the tone, the structure, and the parameters for what it means to be a Christ follower. While culturally Christmas may be a time of great food, Hallmark movies, colorful lights, fir and pine trees, snow, Santa Claus, and a ton of presents (at least these are some of my favorites!), the deeper meaning of Christmas is something much more intense. It’s a story that starts with a refugee family seeking safety, a groom who wanted to save his bride-to-be from embarrassment by putting her “away privily,” and a virgin consenting to a miracle that would, no doubt, upend her very notion of the world as it is. Yet, these are exactly the conditions in which God has chosen us. God chose us in the messy and often brutal realities of life, and in Jesus, He has looked us in the eyes, quite literally, to say, “I love you … I love you enough to walk this weary life with you, come what may.”
Friends, this is not just the message of the Christmas story, but it is also the message of the Gospel story. However, we should be cautious not to treat this story as just another fairytale with a happy ending,
“[Mary] will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” 22 All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: 23 “Look, the virgin shall become pregnant and give birth to a son, and they shall name him Emmanuel,” which means, “God with us.”
for in doing so we might lose sight of the inexplicable mystery of God’s love for us. This is a story about a God who has chosen swaddling clothes over silver spoons, mangers over cribs, poverty over prestige, peasants over Pilate, a crown of thorns rather than of gold, a crucifix rather than a throne, and a relationship with you and me rather than a tyrannical kingdom. If we place ourselves in the middle of this story, we just might lose ourselves and our desires to make something of ourselves – which is the whole point. The Gospel story says that God sees us and loves us just as we are and has chosen our rags over the world’s riches.
Perhaps this would be a good Christmas for us to incorporate this story of God’s solidarity and withness in the world, not as another routine reading of Matthew and Luke’s rendition of it but as an intentional practice of embodying and living out this story in our own lives. What does that look like? I think it looks like considering the families who may not have money to buy food and presents this year and offering our resources and surplus to help them. It looks like collecting coats and blankets for our homeless neighbors who spend their nights in the cold. It looks like thinking of those in our families or communities who may not have loved ones to gather with on Christmas Day and inviting them to our tables. It looks like prioritizing being present with loved ones – laughing, playing games, cooking together, eating together, and sharing stories – rather than losing our minds in the mad rush to find and buy the best deals at the mall. Simply, it looks like being with others, whether they be friends, family, or strangers, in the same ways that God has been, is, and will be with us.
Just as God accepted our sin and struggle as His own, may we, too, be caught red-handed with those rejected from the keeper’s inns, those ran off by self-righteous religious establishment, those taken advantage of by the rich and powerful of this world, and those left for dead on crucifixes of poverty, addiction, and isolation. Anything less than this and
we risk actually removing Christ from Christmas.
My favorite Christmas song is O Holy Night, and its third verse always rocks me to my core. It reads:
Truly He taught us to love one another; His law is love and His gospel is peace. Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother, and in His name all oppression shall cease. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, let all within us praise His holy name. Christ is the Lord! O praise His name forever! His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim! His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim!
If the meaning of Christmas is “God with us,” then may the meaning of our lives be about loving one another, living the law of Love, practicing and spreading peace and goodwill, breaking the chains of bondage in our communities, and treating the least of these among us as brothers, sisters, and siblings in Christ. Friends, Christmas really is that simple. May we be open enough to receive it, courageous enough to live it, and free enough to spread it everywhere we go. Merry Christmas!
Please send all general inquiries, church information, upcoming church events, and special prayer requests to Hunter at hillbillytheology@gmail.com.
Check out Hunter's Hillbilly Theology site: hillbillytheology.com/ (Linktree: https://linktr.ee/hillbillytheology ) Prayer Requests
Please pray for Larry Hicks and his family as he battles with cancer.
Send your prayer requests to Hunter!
Photo by Faith Lynn
A Short Story by Diana Tolley
Grandpa had told a tale or two about how food was scarce and gifts even more so when he was growing up. Back in the old days, folks didn’t always get too worked up over things like holidays. They just took them as they came and celebrated in the ways in which they were able and most befitted their families. Times were hard, but folks prayed even harder in the lean times than they did in the plentiful ones. Kristopher Leon Kreigler figured that wasn’t such a bad thing, really. More prayin’ meant bein’ closer to the Good Lord. That’s how he’d always thought of it.
The ruddy-cheeked young man rode his big morgan horse through the woods, chewing on birch bark, while steadily making his way across the mountains of East Tennessee. Two sure-footed pack mules followed behind tethered by a thick leather lead. Kristopher was loaded for bear and had a goal in mind. Lord willin’, he’d reach the Roan Mountain station by night fall. It was the winter of 1892, December 23rd to be exact, and the harsh weather was like none Kristopher could remember. Ice clung to tree branches while some of the biggest snowflakes he’d ever seen fell, covering everything in sight. He’d been pelted with it for days as he’d made his way across the mountains from Ashville,
North Carolina. What normally should have taken three to four days had taken most of a week, with the weather being cantankerous and all. However, it truly was beautiful, if a body had a certain way of looking at their surroundings. But Kristopher was ready to get where he was going.
Folks back in Ashville had told him he was crazy for settin’ out this time of year, for a place that some had only heard about. Roan Mountain was a small mountain community, with folks spread out wide in different hollers and coves, and they were used to depending on themselves for their survival. Kristopher realized that, but he also knew the Lord had given him a mission. So off he’d gone, gathering this and that, here and yonder, before heading out.
The E.T. & W.N.C. Railroad had only been working for about ten years or so and, depending on the weather, had been making regular runs back and forth, from Boone to Johnson City. Trouble was, those Tennessee mountains weren’t exactly accommodatin’ to the big steam locomotives during the winter. Kristopher would know about that because it was how he made his living. He was what people called a locomotive engineer. Fancy words for him driving
the train back and forth through some of the most beautiful, challenging, country God ever created. That was Kristopher’s opinion, anyway. He’d come to know some of the folks in that area and had made some genuine, honest friends there. He also knew that they’d be needing help. Seemed like to him, Christmas would be the perfect time to take them supplies and a few extras.
The day was fading fast as the young man and his animals started down the front side of the Roan. He’d stopped to get his bearings and discovered that he’d gotten off course in the snow.
“Well, Lord,” he’d prayed with his breath freezing in the air. “I reckon you have a reason for me bein’ off kilter. It’s cold and I’m pretty miserable, but I know you have a plan. You put this trip in my heart, so that’s what I’m gonna do. Take me where I’m needed and I’ll be thankin’ you, most kindly.” With that, he’d urged his horse through the drifts, until animals and man alike had had enough. Breaking out his shovel, Kristopher picked a trio of Frasier firs to make camp. He dug out an area big enough for him and his animals, gathering them around in a circle close to the trees, and made a fire pit. Brushing the mules and his horse down wasn’t an option but he did heat snow to give them water and some feed before breaking out a pack of dried oats for himself. Mixing them with the boiling water made a warming porridge that soothed his empty belly. Using an old thick army blanket his granddad had given him, he made a little lean-to, left it open to the fire, and prepared to wait for morning.
Sometime before daylight, Kreigler heard footsteps. Whether they were animal or human, he couldn’t tell, but he eased his rifle out of the scabbard beside him and sat quietly waiting. Then a man stepped out of the trees, held up a lantern to look around. He spotted Kristopher, bundled up by the fire with a snow crusted beard and eyebrows, his woolen watch-cap down around his forehead and cocked to the side. His coat appeared frosty in the firelight and his gloved hands laid on his lap across a long rifle. “Howdy, Mister,” the visitor called. “I kept seeing light up here and wondered what in tarnation it was. You look frozen through and through. Our cabin is just about a mile down, why don’t you come on and let’s get you thawed out?”
Kristopher took a moment then grinned. “Thank you, kindly!” He wasn’t just thanking the man; he remembered his prayer earlier that evening.
It took a little bit but both of them, along with the animals, made it to the simple cabin situated on the side of the mountain. He bunked his horse and mules in the barn then struggled through the drifts to the house. Inside, an older woman stoked the fire, over which a pot bubbled nicely. Daylight was breaking as the three of them ate and Kristopher told his story. How he’d packed up supplies and other various things folks had donated, to bring them to the friends and
families he’d come to love.
The couple looked at each other. “Well, now,” the older man began, “Just so happens there’s a family a little ways from here with four children. They could probably use some help, if you’d care to check with them.” Kristopher reckoned he had enough to share with the family, especially if they had children. Smiling, he nodded, then stretched, yawning a bit. “I believe I might have some things they could use. If it’d be alright, I’ll just stretch out here in front of the fire and catnap a little while. Then I’ll be on my way.”
A couple of hours later, Kristopher headed on his way. It wasn’t long before he spotted the house described to him by the older couple. Even though the storm had finally died away, wispy white flakes continued to fall. The coat and hat he wore were once again covered, along with his hair and beard, making him look like a snow man. He was met on the small, crooked porch by a man and four little faces pressed against a frosty window. After explaining what he was doing in those parts, he asked the man if there was anything the family needed that he might could help with. Kristopher was invited in and he grabbed a couple of sacks from the side of his horse before following the man inside. As he entered, the children and their mother greeted him with tentative smiles, not sure what to make of a stranger in their midst. After greeting them, Kristopher knelt and opened the bigger sack. Even though they didn’t draw any closer, curious little heads bobbed this way and that, trying to see what mysteries lay within. Pulling out a ham wrapped in butcher paper and tied with string, he handed it to the lady of the house. “I think this might come in handy for a nice Christmas dinner. And how about these to go with it?” Dipping his hand back inside, he pulled out four good-sized sweet potatoes. The woman smiled – this stranger couldn’t have possibly known
what a blessing he was giving them!
Then Kristopher cocked his head sideways. “Hmmm. Let me see. I wonder what else I might have in my bags.” Opening the smaller one, he rummaged around for a minute and pulled out what looked like a short piece of wood with a hole in it. “I believe this here whistle might find a good home for a little boy that could appreciate the fine craftsmanship of it.” The hand carved gift was one of several different shaped wood carvings that Kristopher’s grandfather had sent with him. The middle boy’s mouth fell open as the stranger placed it in his hands. Smiling, Kristopher reached back in the burlap sack and pulled out a little carved sheepdog. Looking at the youngest boy, he handed it over and watched as a look of pure wonderment crossed the child’s face. “Mama, it’s a dog. My very own dog!” They all laughed as he hugged it up close. The older boy picked his little brother up and laughed as he made barking noises.
“Now then, let’s see what I have for someone that’s practically a man now.” Finding nothing inside appropriate for a boy of around 12 or 13, Kristopher thought a minute.
“Ahhhh, yes. Here it is.” Taking off one glove and reaching deep in his pants pocket underneath his coat, he pulled out his own pocket knife. He looked at the father to get his approval before handing it over, then watched as the boy looked at the knife like it was a bar of gold before stuttering his thanks.
Taking a deep breath, Kristopher looked at the little girl sucking her thumb and grinned at her mischievously. “I have just what every little girl needs,” he said with a smile. The child moved closer to her mother’s side but her eyes never left him. Reaching back into the small sack, he pulled out a hand-sewn rag doll, complete with blue button eyes, flowered dress and bonnet to match. His mother had sewn a few of them up just in case he found need of them along his journey.
There was a collective sigh as the little girl’s eyes widened. She pulled her thumb out of her mouth and took a step or two toward him. He gently placed the little doll in her arms and watched as she began to rock it.
“Well now, I do believe I best be on my way. It’s still quite a ways to the village,” Kristopher said as he stood, lifting the sacks. He gently refused their offer to stay and eat, knowing the day was moving along quickly. As the man walked him outside, he spoke of several families up and around the Lost Cove area that would be grateful for any supplies he might could spare. Nodding, the two shook hands, and as he mounted up, the me asked his name again. “Kriegler. Kristopher Kriegler,” he replied.
It took most of the day and was well into the night before he stopped to camp again. By then, he’d visited numerous families, some with children, some with old folks. At each home, he had given out gifts as he could, and watched as stunned delight, happiness and gratitude graced his heart. As he left the last house before moving on to make camp, the moon was bright and the stars had come out. He remembered hearing an old lady asking her husband what the name of the gift-bearing stranger was. To which the even older man replied, “Opal, you hear better than I do. But I believe his name was Kingler, Kringle. Something like that. Kristopher bein’ his given name, I do remember that much.” They’d watched him ride out of sight, knowing the good Lord had surely sent him their way.
That Christmas Eve night, as the stranger from Ashville sat by his fire and watched the stars overhead, he couldn’t help but be amazed at the way his journey had taken a far right turn. Folks he didn’t know, families that had needs he’d known nothing about, had come to light as he’d traveled a lost path. He reckoned the whole purpose of his trip was surely different from what the Good Lord had had in mind. In fact, it’d turned out so much better, with so many blessings that a man couldn’t possibly contain them all. A sea of shining faces and smiles, the happiness that lit people from the inside out was more than worth the cold trek across the East Tennessee mountains. In fact, Kristopher decided right then and there, Lord willin’, he’d be makin’ that trip every year around the same time. What better way to celebrate the birth of the Christ child, then caring for folks along the way?
Looking up with a smile, Kristopher “Kringle” Kreigler gave thanks with a heart full of happiness. Then he closed his eyes, already anticipating what lay ahead on Christmas day, in the upland village of Roan Mountain, Tennessee.
As we celebrate this most wonderful of holidays, let’s remember what Christmas is truly all about. May each of you be blessed with willing hearts and the spirit of giving and caring for others.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Diana
(For kids of ALL ages!)
Bill
Candy
Christmas
Cold
Delaware
Frankincense
Frasier
There’s something about winter that can bring a man, or woman, to their knees. The cold settles in deep, not just in the air, but in the bones. Work slows, daylight shortens, and even the strongest of us find ourselves wondering how long the frost will last this time. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned through both life and landscaping, it’s that hard times have their own kind of purpose—just like winter.
When the ground freezes, the trees stand bare, and the yard feels still, it’s easy to see only the struggle. Business thins out. Equipment sits idle. Hands get rough from the cold, and mornings start with the sound of an old truck grumbling to life. Yet, in that same stillness, there’s beauty if you stop long enough to see it. The way the light hits the smoke curling from a chimney, or how the frost outlines every blade of grass like nature’s own handwriting. Winter teaches patience. It strips away the noise and leaves behind what’s real.
For me, that lesson always circles back to chopping firewood. There’s no shortcut in it, no easy way to split a thick round of oak. You’ve got to swing steady, meet resistance, and keep your rhythm even when your hands are numb. It’s work that humbles a person, but it
By Ericka Hughes
also strengthens them. Every swing is a reminder that warmth doesn’t just come from the fire, it comes from the labor that built it.
Landscaping teaches the same truth: beauty isn’t born easy. The lush green lawns of summer owe everything to the sweat and struggle of seasons before. Just as a well-cut piece of firewood fuels the hearth, the hard work we put in during life’s colder seasons fuels our growth when the sun returns.
So yes, winter’s hard. It can be lonely, bitter, and slow. But it also holds blessings—the kind you won’t find in the bright months. It’s a time to rest the soil, reflect on what’s been planted, and gather the strength for what’s next. The earth needs it. So do we.
Because when spring finally comes, and that first green shoot breaks through the thawing ground, you’ll understand: every swing of the axe, every cold morning, every quiet moment by the woodpile, it was all leading to something beautiful.
And since I’ve spent more than a few winters with an axe in hand, I’ve learned a few things that might help those who heat their homes the old-fashioned way.
Happy holidays to the town I love and call home.
Choose the right wood. Hardwoods like oak, hickory, or maple burn hotter and longer than pine or poplar. Split it while it’s green, and let it season for at least six months so it’ll burn clean and steady.
Mind your stance. Keep your feet shoulder-width apart, and make sure your chopping block is sturdy and flat. Swing with your legs and shoulders, not just your arms—let your body work as one.
Check the grain. Look for cracks or natural lines in the wood and aim your swing there. It makes the job easier and saves your shoulders from strain.
By Noah Blair
Many things about me have changed as I’ve gotten older. Insignificant things like eating more vegetables and enjoying them, or waking up at 5:30 every morning, weekday or not. Even more significant things, like perspective and purpose, have changed with every season of life I’ve waded through up to this point.
Now here we are in December, and with it comes Christmas, and to be honest I used to dread it. Don’t get me wrong, I love to celebrate Christmas and what it stands for: Jesus coming to earth as a baby, to ultimately give himself in sacrifice to grant us the freedom of Salvation. If you don’t know Jesus you should get to know him, he will change your life!
Now back to my dread. I used to look at the Christmas season as an overblown display of commercialism and greed that sucks away the very essence of what the season is for. Some might say it still is.
Christmas for sure can be all those disgusting things, but what changed my perspective was my kids. I have watched them already fall into the “magic” of the season and seeing the sparkle in their eyes has led me to really do some soul searching. What did I find at the bottom of my jaded and dimmed soul you ask? I found a little boy whom I had long since forgotten who, too, loved the magical season deeply.
Of course that little boy loved Christmas, he got lots of presents! But then,
as I reminisced about the Christmases of my youth, something kept coming up. I don’t remember any of those presents that I’d assumed were the driving source of my love of the season. Instead, every memory that came back to the forefront of my mind were simply the feelings of joy, peace, and love.
I’m not trying to be sappy or sound like the generic Hallmark movies that my Nana has on her TV from November 1 through December 31. I am, however, trying to make the point that every memory I have burned into my brain has the same effect on my now much older self. The effect was, a smile coming across my face, a sense of relief from the pressures and worries of whatever current season of life I’m in, and the bittersweet memories of those who are no longer here with me.
It finally hit me while watching my children’s eyes light up as we pulled the tree out of storage, or the pure joy they showed at putting every single ornament on the tree. It’s their turn to soak up every single magical moment the season offers. But I’ve also figured out that this doesn’t mean I can’t soak up some of the “good stuff” myself.
From my own childhood, I remember the house being full of laughter as we played games as a family, I remember seeing the wrinkles and worry lines disappear from the faces of those who carried some of the same weights that I now carry for my little family. Most importantly I remember those precious souls who are no longer here with us, but I don’t think of them as not here because they are still around; every time I think of those memories, they’re here with me.
I could go on for days about the impact this perspective switch has made, but the most important thing is this: Life is short, unfair, and difficult, but my goal is to create the laughter that fills the house, to bring the peace that causes worry and stress to melt away, and to never forget that I’m not promised another Christmas season. So if this is my last, I want to be the memory that helps my kids make it through the rough days that lie ahead, tell them about Jesus and all that he does for us, and to be the reason for random smiles every Christmas season to come. My wish for you is that you each be that for your people and have a Merry Christmas!
Jesus Loves You, and so do I, Noah
