Saturday Update - Help with Recovery
Update from WNC for Day 9
Saturday 8:30 pm
[written by David]
All day I struggled with two issues: I couldn't see clearly because my vision was fuzzy, likely because my contacts didn't fit my eyes properly. I assume they are swollen (or shrunken?) from fatigue... in any event, it was a constant reminder of compromise. It improved towards the end of the day.
I also kept having the sensation that this was all a dream, some kind of an alternate reality, and pretty soon I'd wake up. Take a shower, turn on a light, call a friend, go out for a burger or a beer. You know, like normal. Pretty weird how that feeling keeps happening (and I'm not the only one).
Tragedy:
There are no more rescues. There are plenty of EMS/Fire calls, more than usual actually, because people cleaning up debris get hurt. Traffic is heavy, and most stoplights are still out, and yes, there are still some pretty crummy drivers out there who do dumb things. But now we are in the mode of recoveries….and the recoveries are tough.
I've been a first responder now, on and off, since 1981 (that's 43 years if you're counting). A few years ago, I was diagnosed definitively with PTSD, and I've developed a therapeutic approach that works for me, with the wisdom of skilled care providers (and some fellow responders who are empathetic and loving). Being a first responder—police, fire, or EMS—means constant exposure to death, poor decisions, tough luck, unfortunate timing, and the randomness of human survival. Any healthy first responder will tell you: it never gets easier.
Many surrounding communities are smaller, more remote, and lightly staffed with first responders. Always have been, likely always will. This is Appalachia. I helped bring a company from California to this area, in part because of my personal experience with the resilience of Appalachian residents. For most of the human history of this region, you could safely say that no one moves here for the 'easy life'—and that gets passed down through generations, resilience reinforced by resilience.
I am proud of the people who call this region home, either because they adopted it (like I have, 15 years ago) or because they were born into it. The men and women I have worked with in law enforcement, fire, and EMS in this region are not afraid of work, are curious about how to work more efficiently, and are passionate about their communities. In short, like first responders everywhere, they are rarely drawn to this work because of the money. It is service.
I had a few conversations in the past two days with brothers and sisters in arms, and I can assure you that this event has defined them. They will never be the same; they already aren't. They have seen, touched, and felt tragedy that the vast majority of us never will. Indeed, I did not. I was isolated in a relatively comfortable command post. These people have just come back from war, and they have lost friends and family in the battle. Rural first responders usually know their patients. This is like that.
Please consider that for a moment, especially if you are far from this reality.
Joy:
Here in Black Mountain, we got a huge boost today with more resources arriving from around the nation.
Professionals with deep experience and a passion to serve. When I say passion, I mean skilled, senior law enforcement driving 5, 10, 15 hours to get here... in order to work a few shifts as security at a food distribution point. That's not commando SWAT deployment that Hollywood would show you; it is community policing, providing a calm and smiling presence among people who are edgy, hungry, frightened, and unfamiliar with our new reality. It is human caring personified in a tactical vest. We are grateful they are here; they provide a definitive presence, and they do their work with compassion and empathy.
See below for an image of two deputy sheriffs from Minnesota. I had a spare moment, saw their convoy arrive at our EOC, and introduced myself, asking where they were from... and they've just arrived from where I was born, Anoka, MN, which is also where my father was born and where some of my family still lives. A lively discussion ensued, including the famous two seasons of weather there: winter and road repair. And then they were off to serve. As an aside, the female officer could be one of my cousins, with the German-Swedish DNA evident at a glance.
Similar interactions with the new management team from Maine, and my deepening connection with the communications team from Suffolk County, VA. These are more than 'small world' stories—this is humanity at its best. We may not agree on political policies (I'm sure that with some, we don't). We may not even agree on tactics in this incident. But the purity of purpose, the sense of mission, pulls us together.
I notice in these interactions that almost everyone seeks common ground, right away. What do we share together?
Good News:
Water is almost operational here. I won't announce any specifics; that is for Jamey Mathews to declare when he's confident. We've worked together before, and we had an incident in our neighborhood in January that brought us together... and I'm proud to know a hard-working fellow with a natural sense of leadership: servant leadership.
I spotted the deputy fire chief, responsible for all fire/EMS response, picking up trash today and disposing of it. I saw Jamey doing the same thing. I saw one of the top leaders of the Suffolk County task force doing the same thing. When leaders clean up after themselves and quietly throw away the trash, in the middle of a disaster, it says something about character. Bravo.
Bad News:
The surrounding small towns are suffering. You may have read here, from me, to stop sending stuff to us... and certainly not to come here to help. We can't feed, house, water, or power you. That's all still true. Even more true.
We've turned away private helicopters and discouraged visitors.
That is NOT the case in remote communities like Spruce Pine, Burnsville, and others. Their limited volunteer leadership was burned out days ago, by around-the-clock operations and limited access. They continue to need the basics, unlike Black Mountain, which is awash in bottled water, donated clothes, and yummy hot food made by restaurant chefs and relief groups.
How you can help:
Meanwhile, we're ready to rebuild. Every step forward depends on the support of people like you who care about the future of Black Mountain. Please consider donating to help us restore our community and rebuild the outdoor spaces that make this area so special.
