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Chapter 3 a strong regional Bias As a native son of Knoxville, a lifelong resident of Tennessee, and a graduate of the University of Tennessee, it gives me tremendous pleasure to join my fellow citizens in a rousing chant of, “We’re Number One! We’re Number One! We’re Number One!” Uh, no, sadly; this exuberance rarely has an association with team sports over on the UT campus—especially the two biggies, football and basketball. The Volunteers’ fortunes on the gridiron and in roundball seem to rise and fall across the seasons like the stock market on a volatile day: up for a while, down for a while, back up, back down, steady, climbing, falling. Investors and Tennessee fans share many of the same emotions. Gnawed fingernails too. Nonetheless, Knoxville is consistently at the top of the heap when it comes to sneezing, hacking, coughing, nose blowing, and eye wiping. Indeed, there are tears in my baby blues as I type these words. I’m not certain if it’s from pride or pollen; trust me, we have both. In 2010, 2011, and 2012, Knoxville was named El Numero Uno in the United States by the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America. Among all cities coastto -coast, California to Carolina, Seattle to Sarasota, we whupped every last one of ’em, by golly! Meaning—haaackk!—we are the worst place in America when it comes to spring allergies. Makes you want to grab a tissue and weep, doesn’t it? This may not be a proud talking point for the Chamber of Commerce, but facts are facts. Just ask anybody in this region—and we know who we are—suffering from what is commonly called “hay fever.” On second thought, don’t ask. Listen instead. Between the wheezing and sneezing, K-town’s allergy victims create their own brand of music. A Strong Regional Bias 46 This is a true story, so help me: One day in April 2010, I emerged from the men’s restroom at the News Sentinel and was nearly deaf from the noise. I’m talking a symphonic collection of wall rattlers and shingle shakers. This was not your typical restroom music, however, which is unusual because the Editorial Department ’s men’s room has a proud audio history. Especially on Chili Dog Fridays. On the contrary. These were of nasal origin. One performer, his head buried in a mound of tissues, ripped off an aria that ranged into the upper limits of the musical scale. Quite impressive. Not to be outdone, the baritone standing alongside him at the sink yanked a sheet from the automatic paper-towel dispenser and plumbed the opposite end of the scale. Never has there been such deep, sonorous blasting, with the possible exception of foghorn factories in the Great Lakes region. I added my patented “scared goose” solo into a handkerchief but readily admit this weak performance paled in comparison to the others. I did not lose by a mere nose. I was trounced by sagacious sinuses and schnozzles. No doubt similar concerts were being played in office restrooms all over town. Not to mention living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, and hallways. This misery is all due to a weird blend of geography, botany, and meteorology. In the first place, Knoxville is located in a valley. In the second place, we are lush with grasses, trees, flowers, and fungi that crank out pollen and spores like a trillion nasal-irritant factories. And in—brooonk!—the third place, our spring weather patterns run the gamut from moist to arid, sunny to cloudy, hot to cold, windy to calm. And everything in-between. “For the last eight years, the Top Ten list has fluctuated,” said the AAFA’s Angel Waldron. “But every year Southeastern cities dominate. Oak, pine, poplar, maple, and elm trees are the primary spring pollen contributors.” I don’t require a guide for official notification, thank you. All I have to do is look at my truck, my bass boat, my shoes, or anything else exposed to the elements . During spring, they retain a permanent pollen patina. And as any Knoxville homeowner knows, pollen is only one portion of this equation. After the yellow cloud lifts or is washed away, it is followed by the pitter-patter of little seeds. I live in a log house atop a wooded ridge. There are trees galore. Around my place, many of them—red maples, in particular—often take to heart that biblical...

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