Yesterday was a celebration of recovery and experiencing it was life-changing, glorious and emotional.

The Whitson Ave bridge IS the primary artery between the main two roads in Swannanoa crossing over the Swannanoa River. Everything forks off of Old 70 and 70 and Whitson Ave connects them. Helene grabbed the bridge like a woman scorned and marched on. Cars, vans and trucks landed on the banks of the river. Our community has watched with hope and gratitude as construction crews work daily to restore key infrastructure.

Yesterday the bridge reopened in the grand way it deserved. I stood alongside strangers with goosebumps as the crowd grew gathering along Hwy 70. Swannanoa isn’t a munipality so there were no police to block the roads. Citizens simply stepped out into 5 lanes of traffic to allow a few community leaders to gather around the bridge. Cars and trucks realized why we were there and greeted us with honks and waves.

I smiled, waved to the vehicles and glanced at the lady beside me commenting on the power of the moment. She stuck her hand out “I’m Deb, I live on XYZ ST In Swannanoa. I noticed her shirt with the outline of our state and the word “home” inside the outline. I asked about her home. She freely shared details of her harrowing night, going underwater to save her goats and expressing endless gratitude that her home remained less than an inch from water taking over. She laughing said “goats can’t swim, if you ever need to know that”. The stories live on and we still need to share with those willing to listen. It helps to find people who understand and those just willing to try to understand. The most shocking thing I have discovered about this are the people who blow us off, tell me to stop sharing the truth and don’t even ask. People I assumed would care and would ask, remain silent and ignorant. This day was not the kind of an experience where people don’t care. It was SO far from that. In fact as I moved closer to the road for a better view another stranger stuck out her hand “Hi I’m Beth and I live on XYZ ST Swannanoa”. Helene has broken us down and broken down barriers. We know we all have this catastrophic event in common and we value each other in new ways.

At high noon it was time for the big event! We aren’t fancy people up here. The ribbon was caution tape, ironic and appropriate. Caution tape is easy to find around here. Why worry with yellow shiny ribbon? We don’t waste anything around here. Together we counted down, horns honked and with a quick snip infrastructure was restored. The oldest survivor in Swannanoa drove (yes HE drove himself) across the bridge for the ceremonial passing! Again citizens had to stop traffic to let him cross the intersection. Amusing to say the least, but that’s WNC now. We just see what needs to be done and do it. I wept. Most people did. We witnessed progress while standing beside debris, a dump truck hauling debris and an excavator actively moved debris. Recovery in its rawest form all happening at the same time. It was a LOT to take in.

We moved back into the parking lot of a nearby business and off the debris still ankle deep around Beacon Veterinary Hospital. Live music took center stage and the crowd milled about. I watched hugs, tears and joy flood, yes I said flood, Swannanoa.

Deb and I continued visiting. Turns out she sells her homemade soaps at the Swannanoa Farmers Market where we shopped Saturday. Go see her! She even has a soap called “Hell or High Water”. Buy from her and help her recover. She’s been here over 20 years and she said no matter what she has been through she’s not leaving. She pointed at her shirt and said “This is home”. Those three words mean so much more to me after Helene. For the hundreds gathered, this is home and we aren’t going anywhere. We reached out and embraced each other before leaving. Hell and high water came but humanity rose up and collectively said “You will not beat us down”. We continue to link arms, determined to do the hard work for ourselves and each other. No one here is in this alone and we all know it. We feel it. We live it daily.

I jumped back in the car and as if I needed another reminder that there is a God directing all these moving parts “Carolina On My Mind” came on the radio. I wept, again, and I smiled with a little snicker. Yea, I see you God and You see us. You will indeed give us the power, grace and energy to come back. No, it won’t be the same and we won’t be the same, ever. But we march on with our eyes only facing forward.

There’s a sign alongside Hwy 70 that always makes me honk. It says “Look at you, you’re tired, but you ain’t giving up! Honk if you ❤️”. On this day I responded with shouts and honks and a little nod in agreement. We ain’t giving up, come hell or high water. WE ARE WNC STRONG!

© Gatewood Campbell, February 2025

Crafting with glass has always been fun for me. I started playing with it over a decade ago in Montreat at the Currie Craft Center. I made earrings, pendants, spoon rests and sun catchers. It was just a summer thing but the art of taking shards of broken glass spoke volumes to me. I was taking something that had been a part of something bigger, a vital part of making something whole, and repurposing it for something new and beautiful. Glass changes with light and I have always loved how people can see something totally different depending on the light cast on it. Glass becomes alive! I began dabbling in stained glass right after Mom died, taking on bigger projects, and suddenly glass became a constant source of healing.

After Mom died I started signing up for any art class I could find. It gave me a reason to get up, get dressed and get out of the house. Sometimes I took them with a friend, but most often I went alone. I’m fine going solo anywhere, even a restaurant (which some people despise) just like my Mom. The more classes I took the wider my lens stretched to ALL the many things we can see and do with glass. Because of my job I have continued learning about glass, the possibilities and the sheer fun. It does still provide immense therapy in a good way, when I’m not suddenly sobbing because I can’t call Mom to tell her about the latest success or absolute failure. Art therapy is so real! It takes all of your senses and zeroes in on one thing. For me, it’s an escape from the whirling world around me or the circus that’s my own head.

Last month I took the first leap into what may become a bigger deep dive and I bought a small glass kiln. A good friend and fellow glass artist taught me about it and strongly encouraged me to go for it. Since then I have spent a little time almost everyday creating and firing fused glass. The kiln is small and transportable, so of course I even took it to the mountains and made things everyday while we were there. Some things are utter failures and some are massive and surprising successes. I’ve stretched myself by trying new techniques and each one helps me learn. My log book is full of facts, firing times and my own thoughts, such as “epic failure” or “I love it”.

It wasn’t long before I realized I would need to start selling my work in order to keep creating it. What am I going to do with 50 pairs of earrings or 50 sun-catchers? Although I have my favorites that I admire but glass is to be seen and shared. So… here’s the BIG news! I’ve launched G8rmade!!! Yes, it’s a play on my name. It’s pronounced G-eight-er-made. Get it? G8rmade! So stinking cute and it makes me smile. My Mom called me Gater for short. We just don’t do normal names in my family, obviously, and I love the clear nod to my Mom. I have opened a Facebook page, G8rmade, where you can follow me and purchase from my collection. At some point I’ll figure out a website, but making stuff is time consuming and of course, I have a job that I LOVE! It grows me everyday and the joy I have in teaching classes fills my cup!

A couple of years ago I found a post on my Mom’s Facebook page. She had written “Creativity is a gift that must be shared”. I found this odd because Mom wasn’t a crafty person, at all. In fact when she had to make a costume for me for a church play she traced my body onto a piece of burlap, doubled it over and iron tape fused it together. Childhood trauma is real. Mom wasn’t someone I would quickly say was creative or crafty. I don’t remember her originally posting this comment but I saw it as a sign from her for me, here, in my present space.

So here’s to you Mom, I’m doing the thing! I’m taking a risk, which is NOT my norm and seeing where it leads me. I’m having fun, stretching myself, putting myself out there and loving every minute of it. So here’s my advice, try new things, no matter where your head is. Give yourself the gift of creativity and share it too! It’s contagious! Oh and be sure to follow G8rmade on Facebook!! #braveinallthings #gjm

© Gatewood Campbell, February 2025

Sitting here in 2025, it’s hard to remember the days before the Helene. But I’ve been combing my memory, making sure to walk through the week leading up to September 27th. It is an important part of the story of Helene, why we were caught off guard and why we were collectively unprepared.

Johnny and I got to the mountains on Saturday, September 21 for our usual week in the mountains. I was signed up for Fall Craft Week in Montreat with plans to create another piece of stained glass as I had the last two years. I was becoming more confident in my skills and arrived with a pattern and even two large sheets of glass that helped me develop my vision.

My dear friend and fellow Montreat lover, Amber and another friend, Jamie, were coming from Huntersville for their first Fall Craft Week. Jamie signed up for Stained Glass and Amber was signed up for Photography, which was divine timing as she captured the last moments of places in Montreat, Asheville and Lake Lure that no longer exist. Craft Week encourages and empowers adults to stretch their imagination, something we only emphasize to children. As we grow up, somehow we force adults to fit inside a box and this week goes against that habit. This week of immersive craftsmanship, working alongside others solely focused on pushing our physical and mental boundaries to make what is stirring and blending in our head come to life has come to be intensely therapeutic for me. I was thrilled to have two friends beside me for a week I have come to cherish. I needed it so much in those months after Mom died. It opened up a whole new love affair with the arts for me and I’ve been chasing the arts ever since that first Fall Craft Week in 2022. Last year was wrought with unexpected challenges and disappointments and I desperately needed a week of healing, especially in Montreat. I needed it to give back to me in a way it had not in 2024. I had big expectations for what I wanted to make, having already picked out a place to hang my piece, choosing to work with a difference type of metal in this piece and most importantly I needed time to exhale.

Fall Craft Week kicked up Sunday night, Sept 22 and was scheduled to end the evening of the 26th with a display of all of our crafts from the week. There were a variety of activities other than photography and stained glass. Other options were jewelry making, woodcarving, watercolor painting, fabrics, writing, pottery and even making instruments which are always played by the makers the closing night. My class gathered in the Walkup Building that sits on the edge of Robert Lake Park, close to Flat Creek and the bridge dedicated to Mom after her passing. When I say this week is intently immersive, understand that’s what I want. For the most part we are all there to soak in something outside of the norm. Our teachers bring all the supplies we need, including glass (I only brought some of my own because I stumbled on someone selling some and it spoke to me). We are all there to escape the busy world for just a week and take something home with us. We began working each morning at 9 am and often stayed well into the night. Inside Walkup there was a constant stirring of sounds and scents. Scoring and snapping glass, the pains of delicate foiling often brought a sigh or grunt, but we continued. On the porch we took turns using the grinders to perfect our imperfect cuts. A sudden squeal just meant someone had cut themselves, a frequent occurence and not a big deal. Just goes with the territory of stained glass making. Many of us came as strangers, some of us were regulars from years past and enjoyed catching up on the last year. We admired each other’s work, praised the cuts, admired skills and basked in the joy of our successes. We bonded over glass.

The weather outside was not so joyful. September can be stunning in these mountains, but that week was damp, so very damp and dreary. We worked inside for the most part and remained unaffected by the constant rain. We were only reminded of it when it was time to head to Assembly Inn for meals. We carpooled, ran or coated up to stay dry on the walk up the hill. Meals didn’t take long because all Jamie and I wanted to do was get back to our glass. We could feel the time ticking off the clock and we had big tasks ahead of us. Amber’s class often took her off campus during lunch, but if she was in Montreat, the three of us dined together. Meals gave me an opportunity to see and catch up with a couple of pottery teachers I worked with this summer and I always enjoyed hugs and smiles with them.

Thinking back, it seems like around Tuesday we began to hear stirrings of a storm heading through the gulf. I paid zero attention to that. Florida is forever away and one would never think it might affect us. I was off social media and not seeing any news during my week of crafts so I really had no clue. Wednesday the rain continued and it was intense. Sheltered inside Walkup I was unaware of just how much rain was falling. Sometime Wednesday afternoon Johnny sent me a video of him walking on our back patio. The rain had temporarily stopped but his feet were covered in standing water on our patio. Not good. We had never had this much rain, we knew more was coming and we had almost two inches of standing water. The ledge to the backdoor was almost breeched and the warnings of more rain were intensifying. I remember hearing our teachers say they got a text from Montreat Retreat Association indicating they were considering moving Thursday’s closing event location because we were expecting so much rain and wanted to limit being outside transporting our work for display. Again, just rain, what’s all this concern. No big deal, why would people fret about this? It’s just water.

When I got home Wednesday night, we got an email from our HOA warning of the coming storm and suggesting we make plans to prepare. This water thing was nonsense. My head was wrapped up in glass, lead, copper foil and soldering. Johnny had decided to take the day off Thursday to dig a ditch in the backyard to redirect the stormwater that flooded our patio. He planned to go to Lowes to get sandbags to build a berm to shore up the ditch and force the water down and away from the house. My brain assumed this was all handled, I had glass to finish Thursday and the time I had to complete it might be shortened if our teachers needed to pack up early.

The Thursday morning sky wasn’t just spitting rain, it was pouring down in buckets. Buckets and buckets. Having had rain all week I began to see patches of standing water. Jamie texted and asked me to pick her up so she didn’t have to get soaked walking in the rain from the Inn. I remember pulling up to the Inn and was blocked by a couple of cars loading up suitcases. What in the what? Why are these people leaving? Jamie got in the car and told me those people were leaving early because they had to fly out and there were rumors flight service might be interrupted. Ok, fair enough but who leaves Fall Craft Week early? I waited 51 weeks for it to come again, I am not leaving early for some rumor of rain. Whatever. Jim Cantore was in FL, not North Carolina. We were just gonna get some more rain, just like we had each day that week.

As Thursday morning progressed, I heard our instructors speeding up their wrap up plans. We would need to finish our projects much faster and I had a LOT to go. I stayed head down focused, but could hear them discussing loading up the trailer in just a few hours and heading back to TN that night instead of the next day. I can still feel that fast and furiousness in my head, anxious to finish my ambitious project but beginning to slightly feel some awareness of rain. I was only anticipating water, no wind, no damage, just water. None of this really concerned me. We have a home here, we live here. We aren’t going anywhere.

Johnny checked in with me after his visit to Lowes (which was destroyed by Helene). He had gotten 20 sandbags, worked out in the rain to dig the ditch and needed more sandbags. He went to the Swannanoa ACE Hardware ( also destroyed by Helene) to get more sandbags. The customer in front of him bought the remaining bags in the store, so Johnny had to buy sandbox sand. He let me know because those 6 bags cost more than the 20 sandbags. Ouch, but oh well, saving the house was a necessity of course. It’s just the cost of homeownership and a storm. Who knew how much more we would learn about this?He had taken notice of the HOA warning of rain and was taking it more seriously too. Johnny does not have an ounce of fear or worry in his body, but he does prepare when needed.

At lunch we were told there would be no closing celebration. Tables were already set up in the lobby and in just a couple hours we would bring our projects to display, the silent auction would end and we could depart. An announcement was made that made me finally take notice. She said people need to leave that night. Don’t wait until tomorrow. The Inn would likely lose power and we were expecting an event of historic proportion, a catastrophic storm was coming. Excuse me, what in the what? Amber and Jamie decided to leave that night. I encouraged them to stay. I didn’t want them to cut their vacation from life short and we were having fun. I told them worst case they could come stay at our house if the Inn lost power. They both felt more comfortable heading home that afternoon. They wouldn’t need to be in a rush since the drive was only 2 hours but it just made sense. People began to flow through the lobby with packed luggage, there was a briskness in everything, everywhere. I saw the MRA staff huddling and their faces were distressed. The words historic and catastrophic echoed in my head. Should I heed this warning? Maybe, but not now, I had to go finish my piece and help pack the trailer.

I finished my project with no time to spare, helped our teachers pack up and clean the room and saw Jamie and Amber off. It was another successful and memorable week. Amber had taken incredible pictures all over Montreat, Asheville and Lake Lure. Photographs of history in the making, as Helene was beginning to form and forever change our landscape, our brains and our souls. Montreat had been bustling with crafters on Thursday morning, but by evening it was vastly different. It was wet, so very wet and very much like the winter town of Montreat with few people, cars and signs of life.

Johnny and I headed to the grocery store that night. We knew there was talk of losing power, but we assured each other it wouldn’t be for long. After all, if we lost power we would just go back to Huntersville. We knew we had the potential for some water issues and wanted to stay here to see how the temporary ditch did. We went to the grocery store and bought mostly perishable things. I bought things to make a massive pot of chilli, perfect for cold rainy days and nights. Ingles was packed, absolutely packed. We were all buying bread, milk and eggs. What is it with that anyway? The egg aisle was almost empty. I’m not kidding. People were buying all the water in the store. We chuckled and said we didn’t need that since we have city water and never lose water service. We ran into a friend whose wife asked him to grab some things. He said “We don’t even drink milk but by golly now we have it anyway”. We chuckled that we were buying ice cream and other things that had to be frozen or refrigerated. We reminded each other we could just leave Friday morning.

As we drove home and approached our home that sits beside Flat Creek, I told Johnny I was worried about this storm. He responded with his typical “Don’t worry, pray”. Ugg, he is so much more mature than me. As we drove up the slight incline to our house he stopped the truck and pointed towards the creek. He told me for us to flood, the creek would have to rise and flood the lower land on the other side as far as 300 yards wide and then come over our side. “That will never happen.” I felt reassured by his confidence and reasoning. I made chili and we settled in by the fire for a warm and cozy evening. I was feeling quite accomplished with my project. My week was all the healing, therapy and success I had longed for.

I settled in bed and started scrolling Facebook. I was seeing more about Helene. Then I started getting emergency mandatory evacuation notices for some residents in Montreat and also on Flat Creek Rd, the road that runs parallel to ours on the other side of the creek. We have had recent storms that have flooded some lower lying areas along the creek, but some of these evacuation orders were for areas never evacuated, and these were not voluntary, they were mandatory. Yikes, but we are safe, we will be just fine. I remember throwing my phone on charge thinking IF we lose power I will want it charged up. I snuggled into my warm and cozy bed and drifted off.

I woke up sometime during the early morning hours. Our noise machine was off so I knew we had lost power. No biggie, this was predicted. I rolled over and went right back to sleep.

I woke up again around 6:30 am. I think the noise of wind and rain woke me up. I walked into the living room. What kind of hell was happening outside? I could see trees bending in the wind. I watched a huge tree sway back and forth and finally snap down landing across our road right beside my neighbor’s fence. I could see the creek had indeed breached the other side and was slowly creeping across that 300 yards. Our patio was wet but the ditch was holding up. I had no idea what was happening, but hell and high water had definitely come and we were still in the thick of it.

© Gatewood Campbell, January 2025

I was at the carwash today and making conversation with a polite young man. He told me he was home from college and just started his freshman year. I congratulated him on a wise choice since he’s attending a family member’s alma mater. We struck up a bit of a conversation so I asked him what he was studying and quickly followed it by telling him it was 100% FINE if he didn’t know yet. He laughed and shared his major with me. I congratulated him, wished him well and tipped VERY well.

That brief conversation got me thinking about my own college years, graduating and getting my first job. I graduated in August 1995 and married in October 1995. Yea, I was young, and today I so appreciate my Mom and my husband’s parents didn’t try to talk us out of it because we were too young. Twenty-nine years later…we were right about our decision. I remember talking with Johnny about what I wanted to do when I graduated. I had worked since I was 16, worked part time all the way through college and I really didn’t want to work full time. I told him I wanted a job that made a difference in people’s lives. He laughed and said something like don’t we all? But I knew it in my bones. I was made to have a direct connection to people. I went to work shortly after our wedding at a local church as the part time secretary. The church grew and my part time job moved to full time. I was doing “the thing”. I was investing in people and making a difference. I was there for 13 years and worked my way through a series of jobs, eventually “retiring” from full time ministry as the Director of Membership. I had fulfilled my goal, and I knew something else was coming.

I made the decision to leave after developing post traumatic epilepsy after an accident, a mild traumatic brain injury and the seizures had become unpredictable. It was clearly time to take time for my family and myself. I (mostly) worked on myself but was also dedicated to improving the lives of others. I started helping my grandmother several times a week. She voluntarily relinquished her car keys and I stepped in as her driver, errand runner and anything in between. We loved our days togethers. She taught Hunter how to count change while I tidied her apartment and eventually her nursing care room. Mom and I were cuddled up with her in a twin bed when she passed. To this day I treasure that moment. I made a difference, and she made a tremendous difference in my life.

A dear, dear friend in Davidson became ill from some health issues. Mom and I were close to him and I offered him my assistance. He accepted. I spent several years doing for him what I had done for my grandmother, until his tragic death. Even after his passing I continued honoring him by clearing out his belongings to prepare for the settling of his estate. I saw it through till the end. I made a difference in his life and in his death. He trusted me, and I fulfilled his trust.

Johnny’s dad suffered unfortunate effects of a surgery with unexpected consequences and he required intense attention and monitoring. I became vital in assisting my mother-in-law with him. The family trusted me to seek his best options, convey that to them and to his doctors. I had a lot of “on the job training” with the medical field and I put it to work for my precious Poppie. God called him home and once again, my heart was empty, but I knew I had made a difference in his life just as he did I mine.

Mom had cancer for decades but in the fall of the same year our Poppie passed, her heart started causing problems. I woke at the crack of dawn to arrive at the hospital when visiting hours began (recall COVID times…so strict) and I quickly established myself as a force. We sort of settled the heart issues and cancer stole her April 14, 2022. The weeks leading up to her passing were horrific and the loss remains devastating. But, I rest in the knowledge that I did all the things, asked all the questions and made the doctors do anything she, and I, demanded of them. I made a difference, and most importantly, Mom knew that I had her back. I will never regret the tireless days devoted to my Mom.

After her passing, I intentionally dedicated two years to healing. Yes, I had fulfilled my goal to make a difference in the live’s of others but I needed to invest in myself. I needed private time to process and to heal. From the time I was 14, Mom and I had been partners in life, survival (and also in crime) and I needed to figure out what this life without her meant. We promised Mom we would go see her family in Germany and also Greece, her favorite place in the world. We did just as we promised and have a lifetime of memories from that amazing trip. She wanted Johnny and me to make her Black Mountain home our own and we have done just that. We kept her spirit and also ditched practical for comfort. Come visit, you will understand.

I desperately sought things to occupy my whirlwind mind and art classes became a great distraction. I enjoyed my quick one day summer craft classes on vacation in Montreat so I welcomed opportunities for the same year round. A good friend knew I loved anything glass. She sent me a link to a glass class nearby and I checked it out. Have you ever sent someone a link to something and thought nothing of it? Well, this link was a door opening that has breathed life into me. I discovered a cozy little pottery studio in nearby Denver and took a glass blowing class which I loved. Note, do not take a glass blowing class if you are still recovering from a cold, it makes it a real challenge (you’re welcome). We lost Mom on April 14, 2022 and I noticed this studio had a class on April 14, 2024 building a tree out of sea glass. Focusing my mind on creating something beautiful on the anniversary of her passing seemed like a far better use of my time than grieving. I booked it, of course. I created a beautiful tree that we display in Black Mountain year round. I created a memory from ashes that day.

I returned to the same studio to create a fused glass panel for a lantern. I had begun to fall in love with the studio and began easy conversations with the owner. I returned a month or so later to make a fall themed panel for the same lantern and felt some God nudges. A door was beginning to open. Then…the hurricane happened. Life was turned upside down and as many know, we have spent the last months traveling back and forth with supplies and supporting recovery. I happened to notice that studio was hiring and I also happened to know through chatting with the owner she wanted to add more diversity to her offerings and I just happen to have experience in one of those areas, clay! Knowing the timing was off given the storm, somehow my gut and my heart told me it was time to grab hold and I did. I arranged an interview. I scheduled it as I was on my way up to Black Mountain with a load of supplies. We did not have usable water yet so no showers. I interviewed in sweats, no makeup and no hair product. I was not fit for an interview, but she understood where I was headed and welcomed me just as a I was.

Johnny and I, along with a TON of help from others have provided immense help to my immediate neighbors after the storm. Several have told me they wouldn’t have survived without the supplies you sent and we delivered. A neighbor recently told me “I didn’t want for anything”. That is YOU! You sent and we drove it there and often delivered to their front doors. You were the hands and we were the feet. This gives me chills when I think about it. I’m also now working again, after 18 years, and it’s in the creative arena. I NEVER would have imagined this. I considered myself the LEAST creative person in the world. When I was about 10, I needed a costume for a church musical. Mom bought burlap and had me lie down on it and she traced me. She doubled it over and cut it out. She used that iron-on sticky tape to fuse the “dress” together. This meant I would never ever get a role that required providing your own costume. Much like cooking, I didn’t learn grow up around creative mojo and I thought I didn’t have it. Guess what?? Mom was saving it all along to give to me as healing in her passing.

I’m back to making a difference in people’s lives and I am loving every moment of it. I thrive on investing in the lives of others and encouraging them to do things they once thought impossible. Seeing the joy people experience when admiring their own work is the icing on the cake. I have been there, I know the joy in seeing the impossible come to life! I didn’t think I was creative. I didn’t think I could do it. I took classes to busy myself. Somewhere along the way and fell in love with it and realized I love, love, love teaching people they too can do it. I now teach all the fused glass classes, the sea glass tree class AND clay classes, so come see me! I AM making a difference in people’s lives and I’m embracing the joyful change that I only could have learned through losing my Mom. Life is a marathon folks, having run four of them, I understand this in the soles of my feet. You just have to keep moving, one gentle small step at a time. Be Brave in All Things, because that’s what Wookie would do.

© Gatewood Campbell, December 2024

55 days ago, Helene swept through Western North Carolina damaging and destroying much of what was in its path. It stole property and lives in a few hours.

We have a new appreciation for everything. We arrived in Black Mountain last night and dined at one of our most favorite places in town, Ole’s Guacamole. If you have been there before you know it’s THE BEST. If you haven’t then make a plan to go. Their Black Mountain restaurant sits on a creek and is the perfect place for kids to play while families feast in the outdoor dining area. The once babbling creek turned the restaurant into a giant pool bathing everything in toxic waters. The Asheville restaurant was destroyed by nearby river that’s not even that close, but water is going go where it can and that’s exactly what it did. Not to be outdone by some water, the staff at Ole’s regrouped and opened a temporary dining in it’s catering and event location. Ole’s was packed last night. We had to wait to be seated and we were more than happy to. Standing in the cramped doorway I surveyed the room. Real plates, silverware and glasses were being used! This is MASSIVE progress! Until this past Monday, all restaurants had to serve on disposable plates. We ate out but it was all to-go style. Monday we got word our tap water is now fully safe to resume consuming. BIG BIG deal, massively BIG deal! I ordered water and she asked if I wanted tap or bottled. I figured we now have developed a ton of immunities so I threw caution to the wind and went with tap. I trust our government and public works and drink the water. I am still here to prove it is safe. The menus are photocopies of the menu because every single menu was destroyed in the storm. This drives home the reminder that recovery is so vast, wide and complicated. I have tried so hard to make people outside of the disaster zone understand that the work is massive and unimaginable. All of it is so much. It is a lot to wrap our heads around. Black Mountain is a foodie town. We don’t do chain restaurants here. We are full of small locally owned restaurants, each with their own niche and handmade, often farm fresh locally sourced food. We know good food. Restaurant owners need to get back to making money to support their employees. Slowly and steadily that is happening. More restaurants opened this week after the boil water notice was lifted. This is progress. Black Mountain NEEDS you to come back. Shop in our stores, smile and tell people you support us. Eat, eat and eat. You will be glad you did!

A few days after the storm our garage was turned into a supply store for our neighbors, affectionally named “Wookie’s Store”. Many of our neighbors are retired and couldn’t get to the supply centers. I would guess at least 100 people donated to my request for emergency supplies. Folks across the country ordered and sent things to our house. We brought two full trailers along with 4 packed vehicles. Neighbors and friends came to get whatever they needed, often daily. It was a beautiful thing to witness. We loaded up the truck bed and went into remote areas letting folks take whatever they wanted from the truck. What an incredible thing to share your love with those in need.

We are in a different phase of recovery now and our neighbors are working on repairing their homes, some with extensive damage. They have each taken anything they can use and brought their friends to “shop” too. Sure, our grocery stores are open (if they weren’t totally destroyed) and Amazon is delivering, but money is tight and scarce. We need to reserve our resources for replacing things and when free supplies are available it’s important to take advantage of them. Today another recovery organization came and picked up the last of everything. I told them the kinds of things we had and he said they can use every single thing. He was thrilled when he saw the kinds of things Wookie’s store had. It was bittersweet to see it all hauled off. The garage of supplies represented a dark and desperate time in Black Mountain and also a place of joy, fulfillment and relief. I saw all of that on the faces of neighbors. Our town that was silenced and stilled by Helene, yet there were familiar faces and activity in the store. I loved neighbors rejoicing when they found their preferred flavor of Ensure, favorite comfort food or another pack of baby wipes which became lifesaving the absence of baths.

The emergency supplies are gone, and the garage is now full of the expected; my car. This is progress folks. This is how we count steps in Hurricane Recovery. Tiny, tiny shuffles forward, not even steps. We are all inching forward. People ask me if things are back to normal. Emphatically NO! Someone this week said she assumed it’s all fine because no one hears about WNC anymore. I won’t get on my soapbox about the lack of media coverage, but HEAR me, WE ARE NOT OK. Normal is not a word used anymore. I use the word “familiar” to describe progress. We are seeing familiar things now but it’s all very different than how it was. Most things were never be like they were. The scars of the storm are everywhere and deep in our souls. We are learning to work with what we have and figure it out. The car is in the garage, but so are other emergency supplies that we just won’t be parting with. Thoughts of power and water loss aren’t forgotten and some things will remain on our new “don’t be caught without it list”.

Black Mountain is cold and windy today and snow is in the forecast. The wind of whipping around last night and Facebook groups were full of folks triggered by the all too familiar sounds of a storm. There were new power outages and road closures. My mind was on the people forced to live in tent cities and tarped homes. Survival is being put to a new test this week and we are still figuring out how to help each other in the cold winter that is upon us, and we will because that’s what mountain folk do; we figure it out.

Progress comes in all forms. Eating out in a temporary facility, eating on real plates with silverware, drinking tap water and parking in the garage. Progress is relative to where you have been, and all of it is refreshing and hopeful. We are Western North Carolina Strong and the entire area remains Brave in All Things.

© Gatewood Campbell, November 2024