When I started writing this column 12 months ago, I asked, “what is Wilkeson? What makes this town so special, so unique?”

Declaring myself a Wilke-historian mining for gold, I pledged “to tap into the history-rich veins of the town and provide a motherlode of support to its community by reconnecting the people with their roots as they move forward into an uncertain future.”

And so, I embarked on a Hero’s Journey.

Knowing now that I knew nothing then, it was a fighting spirit that answered the call to adventure. I was a fiery hot mess, ramming my good intentions in every direction available only to leave folk feeling the threat of getting burned.

Then along came a mentor, Chuck Morrison, who extended a hand in faith through an email September 23, 2022:

“OK, let’s talk Wilkeson history… In my research I downloaded censuses… As of yet, I have not cruised through them in order to get a more accurate picture of who lived there and where they came from. I am wondering if you would be disposed with the time to cover that need? I know you are interested and as such this work would be a building block upon which an accurate narrative of Wilkeson could be based.

Let me know and I will locate those files and load them to a thumb.”

Chuck passed unexpectedly six weeks later. The thumb drive “WHY W SARA” became a talisman and has supernaturally aided my understanding and development of the Wilkeson story: characters, setting and plot.

Because old things amaze me, I study and appreciate the homes of Wilkeson nearly every day. Knocking on doors often has led to being welcomed across the threshold. Through the censuses and conversations with neighbors, I have been able to network and get to know Wilkeson the community; pieces of the past and present coming together to provide further insight and consideration.

I have a broken brain. One programmed at an early age to self-doubt and get stuck in a spiral. Note-taking, art, photographs, and technology help me keep things straight and prove my experience, even if the gaslight flickers.

For many years, and certainly over the last year in Wilkeson, this way of thinking has been working well for me, but others are intimidated. Empowerment to guilt, pride to shame. Self-sabotage and fear-based worry. Repeat.

Should one get to feeling OK, how can one then start to feel good?

A cartoon of a Biblically accurate angel commanding a man to “BE NOT AFRAID” is set as the background on my personal computer, the joke being the man’s response, “Sir, this is the scariest moment of my life.”

Deep within the soft bituminous walls of PNW mineshafts, fear of death is immediate and full bodied. This I have experienced.

To have worked inside any of the Carbon River over 100 years ago was to sacrifice your life for the well-being of others, the future of the community.

But it is nature’s way to press through hardship with faith; to learn from fear and keep living. A bird doesn’t wallow in despair after failing to catch a worm. It tries, suffers, learns, and tries again until it is satiated or dead.

I feel very much like that bird.

This year my service has been ostracized, my name publicly slandered, and the worry that I may end up tossed down a mineshaft has been frequent.

If I had not awoken to God’s faithfulness, I could not stand as tall as I do.

I tell ya, it’s been quite an ordeal.

It also helps that I have met good people along the way. When I was researching graveyards, I found myself on a well-known local Mike Hancock’s, unincorporated land, he met me with grace. I probably didn’t deserve it — I was trespassing — but he understood me; as he said, it wasn’t ghosts that brought me there.

And through this work, I have assisted in making tangible progress for Wilkeson through the Carbon Canyon.

We have seized the sword of solidarity, and as a group, we are being justly rewarded; the road back already showcases new signage, vouches for our businesses, sparkles in colorful improvement and inclusive interests, encourages sharing history, and promises the dedication of more to come.

Ultimately, I may not write another The Wilkeson Weigh column, but the Carbon River Corridor will never be the same again.

Why is Wilkeson special? Because of its people and our belief in the potential- history in the making.

Past and present, I’m not the only one who sees it — as Nancy Irene Hall captured in “Dateline: Wilkeson”, a Wilkeson Record clipping from July 13, 1917, “Merrily, we roll along the path of progress.”

Great work is being done. Wilkeson can finally take a restorative breath.