Grieving Appalachia
ways you can help in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene
Hello, I’m Breanne. I usually write about the works of Tolkien from here, but today, I’m going to be vulnerable and share something that is deeply affecting me and the communities that I grew up in. Hurricane Helene hit my hometown hard and I’m grieving from far away while also advocating for the people who still live there.
Normal posting will resume this Monday, but please take some time to read the following where I’ve compiled ways you can help too (even if you just share this post!).
Thank you for understanding.
Appalachia, My ‘Middle-earth’
I fell in love with Tolkien in Appalachia. At twelve years old, I picked up The Lord of the Rings and fell headlong into a fictional world of hope conquering evil, of grief being turned to wisdom, of nature being revered and protected.
When Tolkien wrote about a land where dragons once roamed, I’d sit in the back of my family’s van as we drove along the river-roads that carved through the mountains and picture flying beasts circling through those ancient hollers. When Tolkien said the Fellowship passed through the Misty Mountains, I’d go to the back of my parents property on a rainy day and see the fog laying thick on the ridges and coves—my own Misty Mountains. Appalachia was Middle-earth to me.
And it’s been decimated.
I am Appalachian. My dad’s family as far back as I remember has always lived in East Tennessee. My mom’s family hails from the coal mining region of West Virginia. Her parents moved to Ohio for work but would eventually land in East Tennessee as well.
I was born in the middle of North Carolina. My parents were pastoring a church there for a brief while but Appalachia was always the home base. We didn’t go on vacations. We went back to visit our grandparents in the mountains. And eventually, those ancient hills would welcome us back too.
When I was eight, we moved into the first house my parents ever bought in South Greene.
It sat right on the TN/NC border. Through a series of painful circumstances, my parents would buy another house closer to family with a view of the Cherokee National Forest from the backyard.
Asheville, Mount Mitchel, Blowing Rock, The Blue Ridge Parkway. It was all within a short driving distance of our home. We hiked the Appalachian Trail on weekends and biked the Virginia Creeper Trail every fall. I learned how to drive on twisted mountain roads. I was baptized in the Nolichucky River. Those mountains are as much a part of me as blood relatives.
On September 27th, Hurricane Helene unleashed its fury on that region while I sat 300 miles away watching town after town, home after home, bridge after bridge, familiar place after familiar place get wiped off the map. The grief has been stuck in my throat for seven days.
“I Feel Sick."
There’s a scene in The Two Towers when Frodo and Sam first experience the Dead Marshes. These two hobbits who dearly love “things that grow” find themselves looking at land that will never grow again.
“The gasping pools were choked with ash and crawling muds, sickly white and grey, as if the mountains had vomited the filth of their entrails upon the lands about. High mounds of crushed and powdered rock, great cones of earth fire-blasted and poison-stained, stood like an obscene graveyard in endless rows, slowly revealed in the reluctant light.
They had come to the desolation that lay before Mordor: the lasting monument to the dark labour of its slaves. that should endure when all their purposes were made void; a land defiled, diseased beyond all healing - unless the Great Sea should enter in and wash it with oblivion. 'I feel sick, said Sam. Frodo did not speak.” - The Two Towers, Chapter: The Passage of the Marshes, J.R.R. Tolkien.
Sam’s response of, “I feel sick.” is where I’m at today. Frodo not having words is where I’m at most of the time.
The loss of human life. The loss of the land. What has been ripped away will never be the same again. If you’re Appalachian, you know: those mountains heal you. They welcome you when your soul is heavy. The sun caught high on a ridge in the morning sun mends places in your heart like no other place can.
I saw a fellow Appalchian, Brandis Bradley, say that growing up there, all the adults in your life tell you those mountains protect you from tornadoes and hurricanes and I immediately started to cry because I’ve heard that my whole life. And seeing the devastation the flash floods have wrought on these places and the people that live there is more than I can fathom.
And now it’s time to help in the only way I can right now.
Below you’ll find a vetted list of places you can donate to. I know money is tight for a lot of people (it is for us, I’m still trying to pay off two emergency room bills) but if you can give just a dollar here or there to these friends and neighbors who are on the ground handing out supplies and volunteering their time and energy to help, I know it can make a difference.
The news is mostly reporting on Western North Carolina and other places (as they should, those people need help). But what a lot of people don’t realize is that East Tennessee got decimated too. My family is safe and they’re working to help, but their area was hit severely. As I write this, one of my sisters called me from Walmart to ask if I could Venmo her money to help as they picked up supplies to be donated. I gave what I could and hope you can too.
Ways You Can Help
Alison Little is someone I’ve followed on Instagram for years. She lives in Appalachia and is providing on the ground updates and ways to help: https://www.instagram.com/our.littlehouse?igsh=MXU2ODN5Y3JiMzdlZw==
An Amazon list from a woman I used to attend church with (Brandi) who is making sure these items get distributed in East Tennessee: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/FWLI7JIL32UC?fbclid=IwZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAR1nAw1KoUb9Ljd3mnAldqW7vxpV-8CpdErRia6evtT6u_wUILjmPmbmPiQ_aem_6FItN0kFnabAQ8wj0ExMdA
A Google Doc with resources for reporting missing persons, places to donate and radio stations to stay updated: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1uMN-ERc4fzGC_IoAdbbMCbVw6xl04-CsXdJeEybcUCA/htmlview
A local church in the region who is organizing relief efforts with a place to donate if you can: https://www.morristown.arrowhead.church/
A local friend of my parents who is also organizing relief efforts: https://www.facebook.com/emmabedd02
A very organized resource list to aid/donate/help the affected regions from Appalachian Voices: https://appvoices.org/helene-relief/
If you can give, please give. If you can pray, please pray. If you can share, please share.
“Some things can’t be fixed.”
I’ll end by sharing something from the Ring of Power S2 finale that also came out this week. One scene in particular left me weeping because of how poignant it felt in this moment. (spoilers ahead)
Nori is sitting in the rubble of the Stoor community that has been destroyed by the Dark Wizard. She looks up in desperation and says, “We have to fix it.”
And Poppy shares some wisdom that a Harfoot Elder spoke to her when her family died a few years back:
“Some things can’t be fixed. Some things lost are lost forever. No matter how hard we fight, how much it hurts, or how much our hearts yearn to put them back together. ‘Cause this world’s so much bigger than any of us. And sometimes the wind’s blowin’ against us are just too strong. At those times…we’ve just got to accept it. What’s broke is broke and won’t fix. And all anybody can do is try and build something new.”
What’s broke is broke and won’t fix. And all anybody can do is try and build something new.
Thank you for coming alongside my Appalachian people to help us build something new.
I'm so sorry, Breanne. It's terrifying to know the ferocity and intensity, and mostly for me, the speed that it all happens. I wish you, and all those that are hurting, comfort and kindness.
I also grew up in Appalachia and you have written down the emotions I’ve been feeling for days. Love to you. Hillbillies Forever.