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Mountain Folks In Need
a year ago
General
I have been watching with horror the scenes of unimaginable destruction coming out of the mountains of North Carolina, Tennessee, South Carolina, Florida, and parts of Georgia and Virginia.
Eight years ago, in 2016, on our wedding anniversary, it was my county that was struck by a flash flood from a rainstorm so heavy that creeks became raging torrents that tore up bridges and swept away houses.
But that was nothing compared with what Hurricane Helene wrought.
When Greenbrier and Monroe Counties were flooded, we put boots, rakes, and shovels in donation boxes, along with cases of bottled water and other necessary items, to be sent down to help our neighbors in need.
Today, I feel so helpless. The level of devastation seems far beyond the ability of mere humans to undo. Buildings--towns--are not damaged, they're GONE. People there have nothing left but the clothes they were wearing when they fled through floodwaters that rose feet in a matter of minutes. Some are still stranded in their once-bucolic hollers, while others wander the streets filled with the debris of the towns from upstream, with no place to go because even the shelters were destroyed. Some folks have not had food or clean water in days. And over 200 people are dead.
It is heartbreaking.
But mountain people watch over each other. Convoys of relief supplies, organized by volunteers, are flowing into the area. People who get their power back run extension cords out to little kiosks on their lawns as free charging stations for cell phones. Folks on horseback and with teams of mules are searching along impassible roads for survivors, and bringing food and water in where they can. Restaurant owners cooked up food that would have gone bad and handed it out free to all comers.
Today I was set up at the farmer's market next to a couple of bakers who have kin in North Carolina. I overheard them discussing making a run down there with their church group and a truckload of supplies. At last, I could do something to help. I knew them, and I know the church they belong to--it's the one we can hear on Sundays from the Ranch, because they have an outdoor service rain or shine, and their soloist has quite a set of pipes. It's a mile and a half away through the woods.
I gave them a check for $100 to help buy supplies. Not that we could spare it, not after the summer we've had, but it was something I had to do. I can't go down and help, I have nothing to offer except a cash donation. A hundred bucks won't get much, especially if you have nothing at all, but every little bit helps.
They're going down Tuesday and will drop off their load and return Thursday. She said she might bake some things to take, too. They're concentrating on toiletries, gloves, flashlights, food that can be popped open, and other stuff like that.
I still feel useless to help, but at least I'm slightly less useless tonight.
Eight years ago, in 2016, on our wedding anniversary, it was my county that was struck by a flash flood from a rainstorm so heavy that creeks became raging torrents that tore up bridges and swept away houses.
But that was nothing compared with what Hurricane Helene wrought.
When Greenbrier and Monroe Counties were flooded, we put boots, rakes, and shovels in donation boxes, along with cases of bottled water and other necessary items, to be sent down to help our neighbors in need.
Today, I feel so helpless. The level of devastation seems far beyond the ability of mere humans to undo. Buildings--towns--are not damaged, they're GONE. People there have nothing left but the clothes they were wearing when they fled through floodwaters that rose feet in a matter of minutes. Some are still stranded in their once-bucolic hollers, while others wander the streets filled with the debris of the towns from upstream, with no place to go because even the shelters were destroyed. Some folks have not had food or clean water in days. And over 200 people are dead.
It is heartbreaking.
But mountain people watch over each other. Convoys of relief supplies, organized by volunteers, are flowing into the area. People who get their power back run extension cords out to little kiosks on their lawns as free charging stations for cell phones. Folks on horseback and with teams of mules are searching along impassible roads for survivors, and bringing food and water in where they can. Restaurant owners cooked up food that would have gone bad and handed it out free to all comers.
Today I was set up at the farmer's market next to a couple of bakers who have kin in North Carolina. I overheard them discussing making a run down there with their church group and a truckload of supplies. At last, I could do something to help. I knew them, and I know the church they belong to--it's the one we can hear on Sundays from the Ranch, because they have an outdoor service rain or shine, and their soloist has quite a set of pipes. It's a mile and a half away through the woods.
I gave them a check for $100 to help buy supplies. Not that we could spare it, not after the summer we've had, but it was something I had to do. I can't go down and help, I have nothing to offer except a cash donation. A hundred bucks won't get much, especially if you have nothing at all, but every little bit helps.
They're going down Tuesday and will drop off their load and return Thursday. She said she might bake some things to take, too. They're concentrating on toiletries, gloves, flashlights, food that can be popped open, and other stuff like that.
I still feel useless to help, but at least I'm slightly less useless tonight.
You may not be able to do everything, but at least you did something… :)
My wife and I are donating some money to the Cajun Navy, who are doing S&R and relief work in the imapcted areas, it's as much as we can afford to do from here on the west coast.
Vix
Donate to something like BeLoved Asheville.
https://belovedasheville.com/
Hopefully more than ten cents on the dollar will get to those who need food, water, and sanitary supplies NOW.
Don't let the corrupt idiots in Washington deter you from offering what help you can. This has been a hard year globally. This morning, a village in Bosnia got buried under a landslide of gravel after a quarry collapsed due to flooding. Fires raging in the West, droughts and now floods in the East, flooding in Europe, Asia, the Amazon going dry...everywhere are people in desperate need of help.
And, sadly, it's often their governments who delay that help. Governments, or officials trying to uphold the law: I read yesterday about a firefighter with a helicopter who was threatened with arrest after rescuing a woman from a cut-off property. The fire department he delivered her to was gung-ho to include him in their operation, but the fire chief came along and told him if he lifted off to go back for her husband, he'd get arrested because he was not part of that local organization.
The pilot did go back for his son, whom he had left with the lady's husband because the copter was a small private job. The husband eventually had to swim out to safety.
Another story I read was that a tractor trailer full of bottled water overturned on a highway, and the locals started salvaging the cargo. A policeman came along and chased them away, telling them "That's stealing!" I'm sure the owner of the cargo would have donated it. But the cop had a job to do. It still isn't fair, though. There's looting, and there's salvaging something to help people survive in a disaster zone.
In a disaster, the local EMS is overwhelmed. They need assets, not liabilities, and unfortunately, eager volunteers from outside the area can often end up needing rescue themselves. When all the infrastructure is demolished, an influx of people can overwhelm scarce remaining resources and get in the way. This is what I was told by a friend of mine who was the fire chief and county commissioner for Monroe back when the derecho hit years ago.
So I can understand why people "in charge" would seemingly act like assholes, turning away help. But they have a job to do, and that job is to keep people safe. And they're probably working on their very last nerve and shred of energy.
They had literally moved in less than a month prior, the entire house and cliff-side when sliding down the mountain. They were left with a couple bags of chips and some bottled water.
The pilot was working with the local airport and authorities, and had full clearance to be operating and performing rescue efforts in the area.
And yeah, ultimately, her uncle swam across the river with their pet cat
Another resident pointed out that these towns are made up of hip newcomers as well as old mountain people, and even if they disagree on things, this is HOME, and they can put aside their differences to help each other.
There was a food bank that was afraid it wouldn't have enough to feed everyone coming for help. Well, folks started showing up with buckets of vegetables from their gardens, boxes of canned goods, anything they could spare, and dropping it off to help out.
I hope that it fizzles out, like seems to happen with storms that generate a lot of pre-strike panic. It's the ones that catch us off-guard that do the most damage.
But I don't think that's going to happen. So to any of you in Florida--stay safe. See you on the other side.
When they got to the distribution center in Tennessee, their trailer was unloaded; then they were asked if they could take another load from that distribution site to a third, more remote site as a favor to the volunteers. They agreed readily.
They brought stuff to people who are still largely cut off from the outside world. They spoke to one person who showed them a huge pile of trees and ex-houses caught in the bend in a river. "They pulled 30 bodies out of there. Smell that? We're pretty sure there are more in there."
The gentleman said he'd never cried so many times in his life before, seeing what they saw down there, and realizing how fortunate he and his wife were.