What did I miss?
It’s been a week. Thursday was the first day since the morning Helene’s winds hit that I’ve been able to load web pages. (An email bleep from the phone at 5:30 a.m. announced the news.) I thought I’d be able to provide a more coherent update this morning but the signal that was strong here yesterday is weaker this morning. I’m just beginning to see images those of you outside have seen all week. Friends who live on ridgetops seem to have had better luck. I see now that they’ve been on FB for a few days. Asheville Watchdog has an explainer for why cell service went out across WNC.
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So I’ve been in a news blackout since early last Friday morning except for local public radio. That’s filled with daily press conferences (and repeats) and updates from officials from ours and surrounding counties. The local volunteer effort has been massive.
This is an effort led by my friend, our Register of Deeds.
You know it’s a disaster zone when World Central Kitchen shows up. I’ve donated to them for years (hint, hint). Never expected to be eating their food. Brought WCK meals back to an aging neighbor who’d been eating bologna out of his five-day-dead refrigerator. (His power is back. Mine is not.)
Digby passed along this post from José Andrés about some of the disinfo that’s going around. And conspiracy theories. Ex: Why did it take FEMA days to get here? The mayor reports FEMA had boots on the ground last Thursday before the storm hit.
I expect what this dude above says he’s done he’s done. That doesn’t mean no one else is busy bringing rescue and relief supplies to people stuck in remote coves cut off by road. But there are thousands of those scattered across 25 counties (1/4 of the state). If he and his buddies are the first to arrive at one, good on them. But I’ve seen Chinooks and Blackhawks in the skies for days as well as civilian choppers. The effort is massive. WCK is loading SUVs full of meals and delivering them I know not where across the county and the region (by helicopter as well).
I can’t speak for those cut off in remote valleys. Or for my friend, Canton’s Mayor Zeb Smathers (about a half hour west). But a few personal observations from a guy in the most accessible city in the region. Friends and relatives keep offering aid. How can we help? What do you need?
People want to help. That’s wonderful. But unless you have special skills in disaster relief, your best bet is to stay home and donate to some of the relief groups Digby linked to. We’re already awash in relief supplies on street corners and in parking lots.
To avoid a darkened traffic signal the other day, I cut through a closed Fresh Market parking lot. There were two tractor trailers filled with cases of bottled water volunteers were giving out. A guy practically threw a case at me. (I now have four cases of bottled water I haven’t touched.)
There are pallets of water at Home Depot (it’s open and powered up). A religious group had trailers parked in their lot. One of their volunteers offered me a meal from a stack in her shopping cart. I felt bad not taking one. I’d just had lunch courtesy of José Andrés and my own past donations. And I’m pretty sure that was President Joe Biden and Gov. Roy Cooper who flew over in an Osprey flanked by gunships.
The grocery stores here in town are opening back up. The real needs are in remote areas you won’t help by sending supplies into the city except to shelters and collection points for them. Donate to the people who know what’s needed instead.
Otherwise, Asheville’s water system is down for weeks. “Catastrophically damaged.” So back to bottled water. Relatives and friends want to send in bottled water. The real water problem is for flushing and bathing and washing clothes. And unless you can install a spring in my front yard, bottles of water won’t help. We’re out collecting flushing and bathing water in containers filled from lakes, springs and drain pipes.
And I sprained my right foot while canvassing last week just before the rains arrived. So I’m not much good for volunteerism requiring much lifting, walking or standing just now. It’s been a week.