My Experience of Hurricane Helene and Its Aftermath (So Far)

0

For the past few weeks I’ve had John McCutcheon’s rendition of the song The Great Storm Is Over playing in my mind.

Hallelujah! the great storm is over
Lift up your wings and fly

Yes, Hurricane Helene has passed, but I’m only gradually coming to grips with the storm’s aftermath. You see, we were basically incommunicado at first, except for our little emergency radio and the updates from local government. Along with everyone in our Montford Hills neighborhood and most of Western North Carolina, we had no internet or cell service, not to mention electricity or running water.

But when we realized the extent of the devastation it was heartbreaking. Rainfall amounts in Western North Carolina ranged from 12 to 30 inches and winds from 46 to 78 miles per hour were experienced in the region. At last count, 95 deaths had been reported, 39 people were still unaccounted for, and a number of homes are uninhabitable, some actually having been washed away by the flood waters. As of last week, 143,000 households had signed up for FEMA individual assistance, and approximately 1,400 families had taken advantage of the agency’s temporary shelter assistance. Roads were washed away, bridges were destroyed, utility infrastructure was damaged and out of commission. Many lost their businesses and/or their livelihoods. Asheville’s Biltmore Village was submerged and much of the River Arts District was demolished. Among other hard-hit areas beyond Asheville, Swannanoa suffered major damage, and Chimney Rock was basically obliterated. Families in rural areas were trapped and had to be reached on foot or by helicopter. Grocery stores and service stations were closed. And much, much more. The total damage in this region has been estimated at between $30.5 billion and $47.5 billion, and recovery will be measured in years rather than months.

On a personal level, we’d been warned to stock up on water—fill containers, the bathtub, etc. and stockpile some foodstuffs. But in my arrogance (Wasn’t our region supposed to be spared the worst effects of global warming?), we didn’t take all the precautionary measures we might have. Nonetheless, we got by using a battery powered lantern, our headlamps, and candles for light; we got ice to keep our refrigerated items from spoiling and used water from our rain barrels for flushing toilets (I went to the backyard to pee whenever possible); Shonnie devised an effective system for washing dishes; we showered at the Woodfin Y, and we got potable water from friends with a well. We also got back into reading actual books, you know, the ones printed on paper.

Our neighborhood was on higher ground, so no flooding was experienced apart from a few basements. However, numerous trees came down, blocking roads, taking out power lines, crushing several vehicles, and damaging a few houses. Luckily, in our yard only one small pine tree fell causing no damage. Neighbors immediately began checking on each other, sharing resources and information. A couple of days after Helene, we held a Questionable Meat Party. Everyone brought meat and fish from their nonfunctioning freezers to a home with outdoor grills, and a good time was had by all, at least for a while.

One neighbor whose home was powered by solar panels set up a charging station, another helped empty the water from a flooded basement, still another brought non-potable water from a nearby creek for flushing toilets. One man singlehandedly took down a leaning tree in the yard of a couple who were sitting out the storm in Atlanta. Folks who came back to town after the storm brought lots of bottled water and water containers. We went to the nearby Whole Foods Market and Chamber of Commerce to use their Wi-Fi and get a sense of what was happening beyond our neighborhood. We generally relied on word of mouth for news outside our little cocoon.

For us things gradually got better. My spirits rose considerably when, after a few days, our power came back on for us and about half of our neighborhood. Cell service gradually returned, though you had to be standing in just the right location, and texting was functional even when phone calls were not. And after about two weeks, water began flowing, along with a boil water advisory. I finally gave up on Spectrum’s internet service and signed onto U.S. Cellular’s, which has been working quite well. So, while things are far from being back to normal, our family and those nearby have the basic necessities, though we don’t know when potable water will be available through the city system again. Shonnie, Gracelyn and I spent some time loading pet food for the Asheville Humane Society, and we’ll likely do more for our four-legged and our two-legged friends as time goes on.

So, now knowing my family is safe and now has all the essentials, Gracelyn’s school is back is in session, and Shonnie’s therapy practice is up and running, I get to ruminate on what’s transpired.

First of all, Shonnie, Gracelyn and I got to experience living without electricity and our usual diversions—podcasts, streaming music, videos, etc., and we began to play games, assemble puzzles, and read together.
We got to experience what the night sky looks like without all the light pollution, and it was pretty amazing.
When my daily time on screens was reduced to zero from probably four hours, I’ve gotten to consider whether this is how I really want to spend my time.
I’ve done a lot of thinking about how blasé we are about our use of potable water—flushing toilets, watering lawns, washing our cars, etc.—when 2.2 billion people worldwide lack safe drinking water.
The kindness of strangers really came through vividly. Just one example: When the traffic lights weren’t working drivers would drive to the intersection, completely stop, and patiently wait until it was their turn to go. No hassling, no horn honking, just folks being kind to one another.
The exceptional support from FEMA, the military, state and local governments, nonprofit organizations, businesses, ad hoc groups (including bands of folks with chain saws getting together to clear roads and driveways), graymanavl spending the day at Reed Creek and Watauga Street pumping creek water for folks to use for flushing toilets, a young girl on Montford Avenue giving away lemonade and snacks, Tall John’s providing free coffee and breakfast burritos.

Personally, I’ve been all over the place emotionally. There have been times when I’ve been anxious and fearful. There have been times when I’ve been filled with gratitude and joy experiencing how our community has come together to support one another. There are times when I’m filled with grief and sadness at the death and destruction.

Last night Shonnie, Gracelyn and I, along with thousands of other Ashevillians, participated in an inspirational candlelight vigil at Pack Square honoring all those affected by Hurricane Helene. I continue to be deeply moved by the love, resourcefulness, courage, and resilience of our community and those who have come from near and far to support us in this challenging time. The profound connections with one another at the vigil were palpable. I connected with folks I knew and those I’d never seen before, including giving my lighted candle to the couple behind us who didn’t have one.

So, is the great storm really over? No, but we are lifting up our wings and flying. And in this moment I’m reminded of a song by David LaMotte, We Are Each Other’s Angels (written by Chuck Brodsky):

Sometimes you’ll stumble, sometimes you’ll just lie down
Sometimes you’ll get lonely, with all these people around
You might shiver when the wind blows, and you might get blown away
You might lose a little color, you might lose a little faith

We are each other’s angels, we meet when it is time
We keep each other going, and we show each other signs

Home

My Experience of Hurricane Helene and Its Aftermath (So Far)