“Please, be careful with the future.”
I realized that it was obviously part of a prevent forest fires campaign, but my initial read of the phrase landed as a private message crafted just for me. The wistful longing for my innocent child self who romped freely in this sylvan paradise sixty years ago, ran headlong into my current self who is bewildered, and frankly, mad as hell, about the current state of our country that has been co-opted by a ruling class of cruel, soulless conmen and cosmetic Christians.
Archival photo of High Knob Lake, photographer uknown. Current photo by Julie Willialms Dixon, September 2025
Last Sunday I drove into the Jefferson National Forest, near Norton, Virginia. Part of this protected place is called the High Knob Recreation Area. It’s lush and beautiful, and one of the most biodiverse regions in the world. Since the southern Appalachians were NOT covered in ice 20,000 years ago when much of Eurasia and North America were glaciated, many species that were lost in other places survived here. Today the varied elevations, rich soils, and high rainfall amounts support an astounding variety of flora and fauna.
High Knob is not a place you just end up. You have to want to get there. Numerous switchbacks, steep inclines and narrow roads call for caution. Just the drive up is an adventure. And on the drive back down, expect that acrid smell of burning rubber if you don’t understand the nuance of braking at just the right time and in just the right amount on such a curvy and steep descent.
But, it is not my intent to write about the Ice Age, or burning brakes.
This place is a spiritual sanctuary for me. I’m in the area staying with my parents who are ninety years old. My father is frail and failing. I think of how strapping and strong he was in his twenties and thirties, when this area was also a kind of retreat from his working class weeks. I’m deliberate in my attempt to integrate opposing emotions of gratitude and sadness. There’s no way around grief, only through. Feel the feelings, in all their fullness as they arrive. What better place to do that than in the natural world, where the cycles of life make themselves evident with every season. Today the chill of early Autumn strikes that perfect balance between Summer’s waning warmth, and Winter’s approaching cold.
I’m wearing my Father’s worn jean jacket, frayed and torn. I park my car. I’m the only one here, which is confusing to me. In the 1960s and 70s the parking lot would have been crowded on a day like this. My favorite spot has always been the man-made lake complete with a sandy beach. The lake, the campgrounds and picnic areas were built during the 1930s by the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). High Knob is steeped in the history of this country’s commitment to conserving land, and creating recreational opportunities for ALL Americans. Here’s a fascinating article if that facet interests you.
This small lake was exhilarating to me in my youth. I loved playing in the cold water and chasing salamanders in the adjoining wetlands. Today, as I meander toward the lake, the smell of the damp woods and the sound of the stream along the path transport me back. I feel tinges of joy and awe that only the natural world can invoke, but I also feel a longing for the innocence of childhood. I pensively will myself to be fully in the moment, accepting the truth of my aged parents’ fragile ties to this lifetime. Here they are, in their youth, basking in the afternoon glow.
While I was deep in my own personal and interpersonal life, a faded poster on the vintage bathhouse brought me back to the wider world. The banner reads “Please be careful with the future.” Illustrations of animals line the design, and near the bottom is the image of Smokey the Bear. I realized that it was obviously part of a prevent forest fires campaign, but my initial read of the phrase “please be careful with the future” landed as a private message crafted just for me. The wistful longing for my innocent child self who romped freely in this sylvan paradise sixty years ago, ran headlong into my current self who is bewildered, and frankly, mad as hell, about the current state of our country that has been co-opted by a ruling class of cruel, soulless conmen and cosmetic Christians.
Contrast the decision made in the 1930s to employ men left with no work after the economic collapse to build such a place as High Knob Recreation area in the remote Appalachian mountains, with the recent decisions of the current administration. In the 1930s, the government was actually looking for ways to help the less fortunate. Looking for ways to build people up. Imagine that.
Here’s a Wikipedia explanation of the CCC.
“The Civilian Conservation Corps was a voluntary government work relief program that ran from 1933 to 1942 . . . that supplied manual labor jobs related to the conservation and development of natural resources in rural lands owned by federal, state and local governments. The CCC was designed to supply jobs for young men and to relieve families who had difficulty finding jobs during the Great Depression . . “
Take a moment to contrast that national sentiment with recent headlines about the Trump administration as it relates to our national forests, employment, and fire prevention .
“US Forest Service fires 3,400 workers, Park Service cuts 1,000” (Rueters, Feb. 2025)
“Wildfire and other disaster response strained as Trump administration cuts Forest Service jobs” (Environmental Health News March 2025)
“The Trump Administration Is Recklessly Axing Funding and Staff for America’s National Parks, Forests, and Public Lands.” (The Center for American Progress, July 2025)
Is there anything about Trump’s administration that makes you think “Please be careful with the future? The renegade Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) let go thousands of forest service personnel earlier this year. Everyone from people who keep hiking trails safe or dig latrines to keep human waste out of nearby rivers, to biologists and botanists overseeing environmental protection and restoration projects, to staff members who conduct surveys and studies before signing off on logging or mining activities.
Who is left to be careful with the future?
Wildfires fueled by climate change are only going to increase. And yet, deep budget and personnel cuts in the Forest Service leave us more vulnerable to loss of forest, and loss of lives. And loss of places where we can go to ponder our lives and how we are part of the cycle of life.
The indigenous people who would have inhabited or hunted in these ancient Appalachian Mountains likely made decisions based on what we’ve come to call the principle of seven generations. As we deliberate how we govern ourselves, how we care for land, how we protect our culture, we should be considering how it effects not just the here and now, but the ramifications for generations to come.
We should be careful with the future.
Below you’ll find another gallery of photos from my most recent trip up to High Knob. You can click on each photo to view it full screen.
You might remember I also wrote about this place a couple years ago.
Here’s a link to read more about the poster that spurred this post. It was first released in 1989, but the Smokey Bear imagery predates that. I’m sure of it.
