What flames can’t touch

The Ole Smoky Candy Kitchen is one of those bookends of my life. Located in the middle of downtown Gatlinburg, it makes the best homemade taffy. My four grandparents (I won that lottery) would take me to Gatlinburg every summer. And I’d sit there mesmerized as a man would feed taffy into this giant taffy-pulling machine. It was very cool.

Thirty-five years later, I stood there with my youngest son as he was mesmerized by the same thing. I told him that I used to watch a man do the same thing when I was a kid. The guy, in a gruff voice said, “That was me.”

Gatlinburg is the gateway to the Smokies and to much of my life. My great grandfather had an opportunity to buy much of the land before The Great Smoky Mountain National Park was a park. But he didn’t — and while it seems insane now, he was wise back then to buy farmland somewhere else. The town was one of the poorest places in America back at the turn of the 20th Century. Then came the park and the tourism with it. Originally built like an alpine village, it has evolved and grown over the years to become a combination of beauty and a little bit of kitsch. But I love the place for all that is good and not so good. I took dates there in college. I went to parties in the condos that are now gone. I take my family up there frequently. We’ve done the tourist attractions and eaten pancakes (pancake restaurants are their version of Starbucks coffee houses — there is practically one on every corner.) Gatlinburg is a place full of good people.

And now they are hurting.

I’ve read about every history printed of The Great Smoky Mountains. My grandparents went on dates in the mountains. My grandfather worked in a nearby sawmill for a while. My dad rode horses up there and would pose with bears for the tourists from Ohio (Dad was a kid). It’s part of my DNA.

That’s why I couldn’t sleep the other night as it burned.

It will come back. The awesome Ripley’s Aquarium was unscathed. Ober Gatlinburg somehow escaped damage. Downtown survived. The forest will recover (the land was practically a moonscape in the 1920’s from over-logging and fires). But I’m worried about are the people who rely on tourism for their livelihood.

The good news? There will be lots of construction jobs. Insurance money will eventually flow. But it will take a while to get there. Trauma has to be overcome. Lives have to be rebuilt first.

I’m donating to relief efforts and will share links I find. I’ll continue to take my family to the Smokies so we can explore the wonders and leave my money behind. And I’ll cheer as Tennessee lives up to its nickname as “The Volunteer State.”

A fire can destroy. Or it can forge. I think the area will be forged into something stronger and more beautiful. How? Because spirit is something that flames can’t touch.