The Many Faces of Smokemont Campground

On recent our trip to Smokemont, we met the most interesting and colorful people.  I decided to dedicate a blog to tell about them.

This is John "Jack" Leaman.  Our name of endearment for him was John-Jack.  He was from Florida and in his mid-70's.  When we first met him, it was when our church group of around 70 people were gathered for a meal.  He walked up and began to talk to our group.  He jokingly wanted to be sure we had no problem with him being Assembly of God and our being Baptist.  He was a hoot! 
He lost his wife of 46 years around 3 months ago.  He is currently on a 40-day journey visiting all their favorite camping spots - he and his beloved dog Godiva.  John-Jack is a phenomenal photographer.  He took many pictures of our group and is planning on sending a cd to church so we can have copies. 

John-Jack ate several meals with us.  When he heard of our need for enough $$ to buy Smokemont T-shirts (we needed a certain number of shirts ordered in order to get the best deal), he quietly and privately gave $100 to go toward that need. 

We learned from John-Jack that, although adversities come, life is what you make of it.  John-Jack is making new memories while reliving old ones.  We also learned a great lesson on generosity.

Our next colorful person is Jesse Cimanchi from Las Vegas.  Tuesday night around 7pm we saw a young man pitching his tent across from us and we also noticed his Nevada tag.  He was alone and we noticed he had no firewood  We walked over with an armful of wood.  He was overwhelmed with our hospitability and bear-hugged me.  I looked down and saw that he had been struggling to get a fire with only a few small sticks - which he needed to heat his meal of Ramen noodles.  We told him we had left-over spaghetti if he wanted some.  Jesse told us that he would just eat the noodles and that he had to go to bed early b/c he was leaving very early the next morning.  We didn't expect to see him again.

Around 9pm he walked over.  He wanted to show his sincere gratitude by offering all that he had . . . two cans of Blue Ribbon beer.  Such a kind jesture, but we told him we didn't drink beer.  He asked if we'd be offended if he drank in front of us.  Again, very thoughtful.  We told him to not worry about drinking his beer.  We asked Jesse again if he wanted some spaghetti and he gladly took us up on it.  He scarfed down a huge bowl.  We talked with him for about an hour.  He said he'd just asked the Good Lord to help him get a fire going (it was also sprinkling rain) and then we walked up with an armful of wood.  We all agreed that God takes care of us. 

Jessee was 32 yr. old and had been in Las Vegas for the past 13 years.  He was slowly making his way back home to Buffalo, NY (I asked if he knew you, Tony C., but he doesn't.)  He said he was going home for a "fresh start".  We could tell that he'd been raised properly and that family was important to him.  He kept calling us by our first names and saying "I can't wait to tell my mother about you, Tom & Joy.  Such hospitality."  Jesse had been traveling from Vegas to Montana to Texas to NC and was headed down to Florida next.  I asked him if he'd run into many hospitable people along his many travels.  He said, "No . . . some people spoke to me, some didn't, some even chatted with me, but no one offered me anything like firewood or spaghetti."  I told him that I just hoped someone would be kind to my son if the need arose.  Kinda sad that we were the only ones who went beyond just saying hello.  Goes to show that we all need to be aware of those around us who God may be placing in our paths to make a difference.  I think about Jesse alot and wish him well.

Without a picture of J. W. Sellars, you can probably visualize him by just looking at this Dixie Flag.  He was a 76-year-old man from the backwoods of Alabama.  He was crass yet he still made me smile.  When he talked, he often threw in a h*** or a d*** and continued on with his story.  I had to walk and get close to him to understand his mumbling dialect - J.W. rarely moved his lips and barely opened his mouth. 

I asked J.W. if he was an Auburn or Alabama fan.  He said, "Neither."  I told him I'd never met anyone from the state of Alabama that didn't have allegiance to one or the other.  He said, "Well . . . since the blacks started playing, I just lost interest."  Yikes!  That one got me.  Yep, he was definitely backwoods.

J.W. had no problem telling us about his granddaughter KatyBug who he said was his favorite grandchild and he didn't care what his adult children thought nor his other grandchildren.  KatyBug was his very favorite.  Mmmmmmm.  Weird.

J.W. said that his momma was not smart enough to give him two names so she just gave him two letters for his name.  I chuckled at that.  J.W. said that way back in the 50's he and his wife began to camp and he'd always wanted to see the Smokey's.  They had a very old, beat-up truck.  So they loaded up an old camper to the old truck and headed out to find the Smokey Mountains.  His wife asked if he thought they'd make it to the Smokey's before the truck broke down.  J.W. told her, "Well, we'll just go as far as this old truck will take us."  That's a positive attitude. 

Later in the week Tom & Lynn walked over to where he was camping.  They were shocked to see that good 'ole J.W. and his wife have one of the nicest 30' motorhomes in the campground!!  Never would have thought that.

The next individual I'll write about is someone that we never really met.  He drove an old truck like this one except his had two doors instead of four and his truck had this plastered on each side of the camper:

Enter through the narrow gate. For wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter though it. But small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life and only a few find it.

Matthew 7:13-14

This scripture was written on bright yellow posterboard. We first saw this truck (nicknamed the Jesus Truck) when the owner was trying to find a camping spot.  I first thought, "Well, at least if he camps near us we won't have to worry about an obnoxious neighbor."     w.r.o.n.g.

That old truck he drove was a diesel.  I've heard diesel trucks before.  As a matter of fact one of our friends who camped from the church group has a diesel.  Yes, it was louder than our truck, but it didn't annoy me.  The Jesus Truck was UNBELIEVABLY loud. 

The Jesus Truck and its occupants apparently did not have reservations for a particular camping site.  They just drove around a found a different site every night.  We were blessed to have them as neighbors for about 3 out of 5 nights. The problem was not so much that this guy had a loud truck.  The problem was that he was never considerate at all.  When he pulled into a spot (whether is was 1:00 in the afternoon or 9:55 at night) he would sit in the Jesus Truck and rev the engine.  It got louder and louder with each "rev".  Honestly, it sounded like two 18-wheelers were parked near us. 

It really saddened me that the owner of the Jesus Truck outwardly proclaims to be a Jesus follower, yet he doesn't have common courtesy to not disturb his fellow campers.  I realize that this is his only means of transporting his camper, but to sit and run the diesel engine for 20 minutes for no reason is absurb.  "Be ye kind one to another."  Another good Bible verse.

That's all I can remember.  If I think of others, I'll add them.