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I was born 4/12/53 in Torrance, CA. Dad Thomas was a WWII vet. Hand-to-hand combat instructor for the US Army, later assigned to Gen MacArthur’s command, I have a govt issue pistol given to Dad by the General. Dad later taught Intermediate school math, of which he said his Army training became valuable. Mom Enid was an Art Professor at Los Angeles City College. I was their only child. Mom took frequent “breaks” to a retreat in Indio, CA. I still have many of her paintings hanging in our home here in Jonesborough.

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My youth was spent enjoying band, history, and English. My Mom would work in downtown LA during summer, but she never wanted me around her work. I used to ride buses all over LA, including Watts. I was the only white kid on many of these trips, and it amazed me how the “grammas” on these trips would be my ‘escort’! I always ate lunch across from Union Station at “Philippe the Original”, the best roast beef sandwich anywhere. A group of LA motor officers became my pals after they figured out, I was ok on my own. 

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Just after my 13th birthday, I found my mom was dead from an overdose of sleeping pills. I heard later she had tried to kill herself previously, and those “retreats” she went to were mental institutions. In today’s language, it would have been said of Mom that she suffered from very severe stalking, and sexual harassment episodes at the college she taught at.

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My Dad took extended leave, and we took a 15 ft travel trailer all around America and Canada for a year. We both needed that time, and I always praised my dad for making that one sacrifice for me…just when he needed to. After we got back, I got my first job at a nursery down the street from us. I developed a life-long love for gardening from Mr. Wong. He gave me all the sick plants and challenged me to make them well again. I buried myself in the garage and started to build a Toyota Landcruiser with a corvette engine…and more than a few very fast dirt bikes. I began to race the bikes at Carlsbad, CA and ultimately caught the eye of a major manufacturer. More racing continued, and I pre-ran a Baja 1000 one year, and became the youngest Asst Manager in Taco Bell’s history.

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Out of a senior class of 1500 in Manhattan Beach, CA, I finished (barely) at 1375. History, Creative Writing, Auto Shop, and Band classes kept me going…but the Vietnam war was soon going to claim me on the draft. I wanted to enlist, but Dad was petrified he would lose me as well as his wife. One day Dad (after I graduated) asked me about my trips to downtown LA with my mom. He never had been told by mom I was alone…and when I took him to Philippes…the cops were still eating there…this time for a retirement party! I never had seen my dad cry…until that day. By this time, he had been in four other relationships (and me in two) …and he was an alcoholic. Religion was never discussed, nor tolerated while I was at home. President Nixon ended the draft, and I started riveting metal heads onto shag rug rakes.

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The plant where I was working had a division that made PC boards, and they needed an inventory clerk. I learned how to develop inventory systems from a book in the library…and saved the company 10 grand the first year. After doing that for 2 years, I purchased a motorhome (age 20) and became a Purchasing Manager at a photographic lens and flash manufacturer called Vivitar in Santa Monica. The flash units used nickel-cadmium batteries, and those cells were being replaced all the time by our repair department. The warehouse manager complained to me one day that he was tired of seeing a 40-foot dumpster in his warehouse space. They were paying good money to haul the batteries to the dump, a 40-foot load every month…some 5000 battery packs. I grabbed one battery pack and took it to a junkyard guy I knew in East LA who I had purchased parts for the Land Cruiser. He said the ni-cad packs were worth about $5 on the scrap market, and he wanted to pay $2 each. I told him the first time we could do $2 bucks…but after that it was $3. He was over-joyed…and so was the CEO when I walked into his office with a check for $10 grand…for junk! I was promoted to Senior Buyer at age 22. Later, my junk-yard guy held a big party for me at his brand-new home. It was near the same bus stop in Watts that I had travelled to as a boy, just blocks away from Watts Tower. To reflect on how his success was built by junk taught me a life-long lesson…find a need and go for ‘win-win’.
 

I started to rent my motor home to co-workers, and it was very profitable. The economy was rugged at the time because of a ‘gas crisis’, and my banker was talking about all the motorhomes he was reluctantly about to repossess. I offered to help folks rent out their rigs; on the condition the banker would hold off calling in the notes. He had 20 coaches ready to tow…he ended up with one. He went up to San Franciso for a Bank of America meeting…and shared the concept. That morphed into a motorhome rental business that ended up in 1976 handling over 500 coaches throughout CA. I was bought out in early 1977, and once again that entrepreneurial ‘find a need and fill it’ itch was satisfied.

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Tired of the So Cal traffic and increasing druggies hanging around in 1977, my (then) wife and I moved to Durango, CO…and bought a mobile home in a park at 7000’ altitude. I also joined the Volunteer Fire Department in 1978.  I worked at Radio Shack, but there was a camera store two buildings down. I wanted to work there, but the owner said he had plenty of workers already. Because of my work at Vivitar, I knew everything about his inventory. I offered to work for free, with a commission only of 5 percent on all sales. He hired me, and the snickers from his worker-bees evaporated several months later, when they figured out, I was making twice what they were. The owner offered me the entire store and photo lab for no money-down, and 6 months later in 1980 I bit on the dumbest business move ever. My son Jack was born in 1984.

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I was making payments at 10% interest on the store, lab…and inventory. A couple of years in, and I discovered I did not have quite enough cash flow to buy more inventory. I read books to find out about proper business accounting, and I knew I had been taken advantage of. My fault, but that experience fueled my ability to find “hidden” entries a block away.  I started taking photos to feed my lab some more business. Portraits, school photos, bus tours…and ultimately hung out of a helicopter taking aerial photos for the Govt. My wife had moved her folks into our new home, and the cash worries just got worse. Our marriage shattered when the loan for the house got called. I ended up sleeping on the floor of my office for two years. Many tried to get me to file for bankruptcy, but I just couldn’t do it. All of this taught me a great lesson …ALWAYS ask someone smarter than you to analyze any potential major decision you might make…before you make it.

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Jesus presented Himself and saved me in early 1990, and I was baptized. In 1995 I travelled to the Big Island of Hawaii and arrived sick from the plane flight. I was ill 5 out of the 7 days I was to be there. Great, I thought…first vacation in 10 years, and I have one full day left. That afternoon I went to a hula demonstration. Hoping for some pretty girls in grass skirts, instead I saw muscular Hawaiian guys! Turns out Hawaiian Hula is done by the men. I was absolutely mesmerized by the beating of the gourd, and their awesome dance moves that were filled with emotion. At the end, I just sat on the concrete bleacher soaking up the setting sun. The lead guy is packing up his gear, and he turns around to say hello. His name Is JJ, and he says “you’re here brother to take our pictures…bless you. You are ill, leave a “slippa” in your door tonight, and the aunties will come over in the morning to cook up something to fix you up”. I had no camera around my neck. I was not registered in my studio’s name, nor had I talked to a soul since stumbling out of the taxi! I protested to JJ…” I have a plane to catch!” He just smiled. The aunties showed up at 6, and that broth tasted horrible. I slept on the coach for 12 hours, cancelled my flight…and spent the next three weeks with the most incredibly peaceful and spiritual souls I have ever met. Come to our house, those photos are on our wall. Upon my return, I was told the Pastor’s wife had an affair, and the Elders had decided to fire my beloved Pastor…because he “couldn’t keep his home”. I told one elder about my Hawaii trip, and he told me I had been exposed to the devil, and he would pray for me. It took me 27 years to walk into another church…in Jonesborough. Judgement is God’s work, not ours. How arrogant is it when we say one belief is better than the rest?

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There were money struggles until I broke off the Studio from the camera store. The studio became profitable, and I bought a home on one acre in Durango…a “Portrait Park”. It was a wonderful success, and I was happy with it just being me and my boy (when he visited). My specialty (in addition to hanging out of a helicopter) was High School senior portraits of Native American, mostly from the Navajo reservation. This great-great gramma named simply “J” sort of adopted me and really taught me how to accept peace in my life. I photographed two Navajo ‘code-talkers’ of WWII fame…what a treasure. Despite how they were treated, do you know the Navajos are the highest percentage of voluntary military recruitment? Then, one day this camera-shy drop-dead gorgeous lady nurse named Kim, and her three kids started to come in for pictures. My assistant said...” oh boss, you’re in trouble, cause you’re going to marry that gal”

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The Animas Fire District became the second-largest volunteer Fire Dept.in Colorado, and I gained accreditation and rose up through the ranks, until I became the “bunker cop” (aka Safety Officer). The things I saw (and did) truly amaze me to this day, and I have unlimited respect for anyone that places their life on the line to save others. I joined to save lives…but the hard reality is that you exit more out of this world, than you bring in. When firefighters anywhere in the world lock eyes, we all know the pain of that universal truth. Brother and Sisterhood.

I became a Real Estate licensee in 2000 and started working for the timeshare company called Fairfield…later Wyndham. Kim and I married in 2004…and I had 3 ‘new-to-me’ young adults to mentor, so now we were a fam of 6! Kim was my frugal partner, and she had the common sense to know zero debt was the best game plan for me. What a wonderful and crazy time, with 6 people discovering each other and finances being controlled. I slowly closed my studio, so our house could be a home…rather than a business location.

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Kim and I owned timeshare, so I was placed on the “in-house” sale line for Wyndham Durango, meaning my goal was to resolve any issues that an Owner might have, create more desire…and close a sale. I took that one step further. Kim, the kids and I each quarter would lick hundreds of envelopes containing newsletters that I would write to anyone who had purchased from me. In the early 2000's customer service in the timeshare world was lacking, and we did what no other rep would do…we worked hard to deserve the trust the Owners had placed in me. In doing so, Kim and I were rewarded with special lavish company funded trips almost every year. This is where I again learned that placing the needs of others above your own is rewarding…and can be very profitable.

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In January 2009, the financial crisis hit our office in Durango while we were on vacation. Daughter Amber called us while in the middle of the Panama Canal, standing on our cruise ship balcony…I heard I no longer had my job. Kim and I toasted the future, and we carried on.

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In 2010 I invented my own job at Wyndham. We had “temporary” owners called Discovery…they had two years to use up a batch of points. If after that period they decided to upgrade to full ownership…they got their Discovery money returned. In sales, this was a pure “temperature taker” sale. Less than 10% upgraded to full ownership, so Kim and I drove our 36’ diesel pusher motorhome towing a PT Cruiser to Orlando…and parked it right in the executive parking lot! I had a ‘pitch’ to do.

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I argued with Leadership the low upgrade rate was because no one had taken the time to show our temporary members how to use the product. I asked for a list of 2000 Discovery members, and three months to prove the concept. In 6 weeks, the “upgrade rate” was 22%...and climbing towards an ultimate of 47%. By 2017 our team had 13 members and was the single fastest growing division in the oldest and largest time-share company on earth. We received a national industry trade group award, and much to my surprise… I was given a ‘diversity award’ from the manager’s comments I received. I had hired everyone only over the phone… based upon their skills, their drive, and their enthusiasm. I never knew I had one team member with severe mobility issues, plus over half had a skin color different than mine!  When we finally all got together, one superstar leans over to me and says… “come on Dana, with a name of Saquahn you had no clue I was black??” All I could do is shrug my shoulders…and we both howled. It just does not matter.

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Durango had changed by 2017. The young people that had graduated from the local College program for computer science moved away to the Bay area…made millions of dollars and looked around for somewhere else to live. Funny thing, lots of money with no common sense is a walking disaster. En mass, Durango was populated with transplants…and our 50-50 mix of conservatives’ vs liberals got skewed way to the left. Homelessness and crime descended as unwritten tolerance was adopted for anyone who came to town. Fake social security numbers popped up everywhere. MaryJane got legal, and folks thought it was ok to get stoned and then nurse their baby. The local paper was totally devoured by liberal opinion. In 2019, I proposed that maybe it would be at least entertaining to offer some editorial opinion from a conservative every now and again. The e-mail reply that I received back from the editor of the paper was shocking, and I still to this day have it in my folder that I carry around. Basically, the editor said that since conservatives know only how to “rant”, and since only a few could spell correctly or form a decent paragraph…’thanks Dana but I’ll pass’ was the reply. Kim and I knew it was time to move. We had never lived east of Colorado.

 

Did you know there’s about 15000 small towns and cities in the United States under 7000 population? I sure didn’t, but that was our goal…under 7000 folks. So, I came up with a spreadsheet of 13 variables we thought were important. The number of churches, the quality of the elementary schools (get that right and the rest goes for the ride), a traditional Main St, conservative voting history, a College nearby for art, social, and diverse events, Fun restaurants and events, a tourist town, historical significance, reasonable cost of living, health-care nearby, low crime rate, an airport close-by, outdoor recreation, and a strong local newspaper (RIP). There were just 13 finalists, and seven were in NE Tennessee! In the smack of the middle of Covid in January 2020, we travelled to a State neither of us had ever even visited and purchased Tobie and Baxter Bledsoe’s old 1845 era brick home on E Woodrow. This historic property had owners with the names of “Tipton”, and “Sevier”. We believe you never ‘own’ one of these old girls…you just get to be the caretaker for a bit. What a blessing it has been!

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We moved ourselves and hired a couple of “big local boys” to get us unloaded. My gut was telling me they were a bit standoffish, so I started talking about fishing (anybody own a boat?), and I asked what their folks were like. This broke the ice, and one of the guys finally said what he needed to say…in a very polite way (just like he had been raised), “You know, it’s sort of scary sometimes to see folks move in, that are not from here”. I just nodded. He continued “Y’all are nice and all that, but this is the only home we know, and we want it to stay sorta the same”.  I thought… that’s called guts, and I had instant respect. We moved more boxes. Finally, when we stopped for some water, I said “Guys, I was a volunteer firefighter in Colorado for almost 30 years, and my wife was a nurse for 35 years. Tons of friends, lots of familiar faces, and we knew every business in town. You gotta ask yourself if we did all of that, used all our money to buy this monster (that’s what Kim called the house) …and left everything behind in Durango to move to Jonesborough Tennessee…well why in the world would we ever want to change anything about Jonesborough??!! This is the core fear of the ‘locals’, and it’s warranted. As newcomers, it’s our job to respect the past, and build on it for the future. A simple smile, and a head-nod from my ‘movers’ said it all.

A lot has happened since 2020. We’re back at a loving Church, Kim volunteers at the County animal shelter, and I am Board President for the Flag Committee, and Board President for the Board of Dwelling Standards (BODS). The BODS tries to help good people with limited income fix their houses (good cop), and then we aggressively pursue those property owners that could fix their properties…but just don’t care enough to do so (bad cop). I’m on the Board for the International Storytelling Center (I was included in the lease agreement), and I believe great things will come from that. The arts always attract a liberal base, and that’s ok. My favorite phrase when talking to my fellow Board members from San Francisco or New York is…” it’s pretty amazing all this probably started on a wooden porch somewhere in Appalachia, with a mason jar of moonshine being passed around” That’s a great way to silence a bunch of yak on a Board meeting! Gotta have fun in life!  I love my volunteer work for a farmer at the Farmer’s Market. By helping him, he can pay less on payroll, and keep his prices for his pesticide free veggies and berries as low as possible.  By far, my daily walks around Town are my “grounding time”. I focus on waving at passing cars, saying hello to visitors and locals alike…and of course straightening out my “ladies” …now over 200 US flags flying all over town. Those flags gave me the idea…” Jonesborough First”.

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When we first moved here 5 years ago, lots of people waved. Now, very few do. Why is that? The fault maybe lands on the folks that (like me) that have been here just a short time…We never waved at anyone in Colorado unless we knew them. The ‘locals’ have waved at nearly everyone…all their life because they assume they should know them. Newcomers must want to change their ingrained habits…and just simply wave.   New folks need to get to know why there are two mayors, why the Town pays for schools and the County rents them from the Town (clue me in on that one) …and above all please new folks we must avoid starting any sentence with “where we came from, they did…” By getting to know the locals and respecting them we make new friends.

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If we allow our old habits to conquer Jonesborough, this place could turn into the ‘hole’ we just departed. Conversely, the “Locals” need to realize that the newbies have experienced their potential future, and it’s not good. We have seen panhandling and mooching passed off as being compassionate…and entire downtowns obliterated with millions of tax dollar revenue being “peed away”. Of course, the same folks that wanted to be compassionate are nowhere to be found when the train wreck occurs. We have seen when crony agreements, and sweetheart deals have reduced trust in government…and destroyed budgets. The gift that newbies bring is the very fresh memories of what happens when you take your eyes off the ball. What happens if downtown becomes less ‘friendly’ for tourists and families?   Property taxes go up to compensate for the loss of sales tax revenue, and down the slide we go.  

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God gave us Freedom. God gave us Liberty. He worked through our Founding Fathers, and He works through all of

us…if we will allow Him. I am running for the unpaid position of Alderman (not Elderman please) because I truly believe in the statement that is on every sign we place in the ground. “Jonesborough First” is what it says, and what it means is that if we can stay focused on Jonesborough, America might follow.

 

Dana