Like a lot of folks around Haywood and Madison counties, I enjoy getting out to local festivals and community gatherings. It’s where you see people you know, shake a few hands, and hear what’s really on folks’ minds. Not long ago, at one of those events, I noticed Mark Pless’s campaign booth contained three banners with millions of dollars in budget appropriations. One of his banners outrageously said, “Hurricane Helene funding I have obtained from the State of NC $2,100,000,000.” According to Mark, he was able to wrestle more than two BILLION dollars from the state single-handedly, and all of it came home to Haywood County. Bologna!
Anyone can understand why that kind of message catches people’s attention. When times get hard, floods come through, mills shut down, or roads and water lines fail, folks want to know somebody’s got their backs. That’s fair. But if we’re going to talk about service over self, then we owe people the real and accurate picture, not just what looks nice from a distance.
A good bit of the funding on those banners comes from disaster recovery, especially from Tropical Storm Fred and the more recent Hurricane Helene damage. Those dollars matter. They help neighbors get back on their feet and keep our communities from falling further behind. I don’t think anyone would argue with that.
But here’s the part that doesn’t always get explained.
When a big storm hits Western North Carolina, disaster money doesn’t show up because one guy asked for it. It comes after federal and state emergency declarations. From there, funds move through state agencies using formulas, damage reports, and applications from local governments. A lot of that money is regional or statewide to begin with, and then it gets spread out based on need. Legislators can help make sure their counties aren’t forgotten, but this isn’t the same thing as picking winners and losers in the budget.
Some of the projects listed on those banners are clearly county-specific. Others are part of larger recovery programs that serve all of WNC counties at once. The trouble is, this guy lumped everything together. If you don’t already know how the process works, you’d be forgiven for thinking every dollar listed was personally delivered by one set of hands. That’s just not how it works.
And that distinction matters. Even implying personal responsibility raises a big credibility concern.
Disaster recovery helps us patch things up after the fact. Capital projects fix what’s broken. Both are important. But neither one, by itself, builds a stronger future. They don’t create lasting jobs, keep young people from having to move away, or help small businesses grow roots. Those things take long-term planning, steady work, and a willingness to tackle problems that don’t come with a ribbon-cutting. Those would be appropriations worth crowing about.
It also matters how this information is being presented. Long banners filled with big numbers look impressive, but they don’t leave much room for understanding. Most folks walking by don’t have the time to stop and sort out what’s one-time money, what’s disaster-related, what’s recurring, or what was requested by an agency instead of initiated by a legislator. The size of the list does the talking.
When credit gets claimed without explanations, we’ve got to slow down and take a closer look.
I’ve always believed no one guy does this work alone. Budgets are built by committees, agencies, local officials, and whole delegations working together. When we start acting like one name deserves the praise, we do a disservice to the people who actually make government work, and to the folks back home who deserve straight talk.
For me, representing this district isn’t about falsely claiming trophies. It’s about showing up, listening, and making sure local voices carry all the way to Raleigh. It’s about helping our towns solve their own problems, not running them from the capital like a big-government progressive. And it’s about being honest when the answer is complicated or doesn’t fit on a banner.
Our communities deserve more than big totals and bold claims. They deserve clarity, humility, and leadership that puts service ahead of self. We can appreciate the help we’ve received, be thankful for recovery funds when we need them, and still ask whether we’re doing enough to build something better going forward.
That’s the kind of representation I believe in. That kind of representation is who I am as a person. And that kind of representation is what I’ll work to deliver.
