Despite tepid D.C. response, the work goes on
File photo
It was a time and a place, and now that place is gone.
Or is it?
I came across some version of that idiom about time and place a few months ago, just as we at The Smoky Mountain News were beginning to discuss how to cover the one-year anniversary of Helene’s historic and deadly impact on this place we call home.
I at first thought it was from some literary figure, but I couldn’t find a definitive source (except for the Emerson, Lake and Palmer song of the same name from 1971).
Some destruction and trauma are so great our minds and souls simply can’t register them in the moment. I was traveling when Helene hit, my planned Sept. 28 return flight diverted from Asheville to Charlotte, finally arriving back in Western North Carolina on Monday, Sept. 30, 2024. I remember going through Canton and Clyde to get to my own house and feeling disoriented, in a kind of daze. So much lost, so much mayhem, and yet so many people already out there beginning to make things right.
That dazed feeling overtook me again when I made it to the River Arts District in Asheville a few days later, seeing the destruction and the muck and the debris. War zone? I’ve never been in one, but that’s how many who do have that experience have described what so many mountain communities looked like. Looking at all the photos and videos online of destruction became an exhausting ritual. My God, did this all happen in a few short hours?
Related Items
‘Girls on the Run’ 5K coming to Asheville
Plot twist emerges in Jackson library fight
EBCI Chief Hicks urges Senate against Lumbee recognition
Root & Rise opens inclusive workspace
The cumulative tally from Helene is staggering: 108 dead, $60 billion in damages, 1,500 roads closed or partially closed in the immediate aftermath, 73,000 homes damaged.
So much work has been done by so many that the efforts are, in many ways, incomprehensible. In the days and weeks immediately after, so many volunteered to haul food and water, cook meals, help muck buildings and homes and move debris that there were long lines patiently waiting to offer their help to their neighbors in whatever way they could. It was a community effort unlike anything I’ve witnessed.
Despite those tens (hundreds?) of thousands of hours of volunteer help in the immediate aftermath, those of us who live here know the truth, and it’s grim. One year after Helene, only 9% of requested funding from Congress has arrived in our mountain region. Gov. Josh Stein and countless other leaders have made heart-wrenching pleas, but so far, the powers that be in Washington are — let’s be clear — not doing what they’ve done in past disasters for other parts of the country. I personally feel like it’s my job to continue to bring that up. We would like to be marking a time when we are closing out the recovery, but truth is we’re just getting started. It’s going to take many years.
I’ll be honest when I say we in Western North Carolina appreciate the resources that so far have come from the state and federal government. But local governments are bearing a burden they can’t afford, and one that the federal government has traditionally funded. If something does not give, the services these local governments provide to their citizens will suffer, whether that’s social services, healthcare, education, public safety. There is no other choice as, unlike the feds, towns and counties are prohibited by law from operating in a deficit.
As we watched how federal resources were slow to trickle into WNC after Helene, something else also became apparent: local and regional nonprofits were on the ground making things happen, looking after the housing, healthcare and other essential needs of our neighbors. At the same time this was happening, I saw an open call from the Chronicle for Philanthropy for a grant to examine how nonprofits were doing important work in different communities around the country.
We applied, received a grant, and in today’s edition you’ll see the fruits of that work. We’re calling the series “Frontline Philanthropy,” and it represents months of work by our team of writers.
Climate change is worsening. More weather disasters are predicted by almost all serious scientists. The feds are pulling back in their aid efforts. But how much can we rely on nonprofits to fill that gap. They are doing great work, but only time will tell if the kind of disaster response they have provided so far is sustainable.
The physical look of Western North Carolina has changed forever. Rivers have carved new paths; downtowns are gone. Some places where we had structures and homes will never again be built upon. What carries on are the people, their resilience and their hopes for the future. Theres work to do, and I’m guessing it will eventually get done despite the as-of-yet tepid response from DC. That’s what happens in this place we call home.
(Scott McLeod can be reached at This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
