Echoes of Appalachia

Today, I delivered pet food to CARE in Greeneville, doing my part to help in any way I can. Afterward, I drove over to Asheville Highway, and what I saw there was beyond heartbreaking. The small towns I grew up in, places full of memories and people I love, now look like a war zone after the devastation from Hurricane Halene. It’s so hard to describe the sight—houses battered and torn apart, mobile homes flipped on their sides, cars wrapped around trees like toys flung by an unstoppable force.

I’ve lived through a couple of floods in my life, but nothing compares to this. Entire neighborhoods are gone. People are wandering through what’s left of their homes, not knowing what to do next. Some have nowhere to go, left homeless overnight. It’s devastating enough to see the physical destruction, but the human impact hits hardest. People have lost everything—family photos, cherished belongings, even their sense of safety.

As if that wasn’t enough to take in, animals are running everywhere, displaced just like their owners. Pets who once had a warm bed and loving home now roam the streets, confused and in need of care. There’s only so much anyone can do in the face of such loss, but we’re all doing what we can to help both the people and the animals left behind in the chaos.

Today brought even more personal heartbreak. I learned that my cousin and his wife were killed in a mudslide. It’s hard to put into words what they meant to me. They were two of the kindest, most generous people you could ever know, and now they’re gone. Just like that, ripped away by the force of nature. To say my heart is broken doesn’t even begin to describe the grief. It feels like a part of me is gone too.

It’s not just the loss of my cousin that hurts—seeing the places I grew up so utterly broken is beyond painful. These are the towns that shaped me, the places where I made my memories. Now, they’re shattered, just like the lives of the people who live there. It’s hard to stand by and see it all fall apart, but that’s exactly why I’m doing everything I can to help. I know I can’t rebuild homes or reverse what’s been done, but I can be there, offering whatever support I can, however small it may be.

This is a fight to rebuild not just houses, but entire communities. People need food, shelter, and compassion. They need to know that they’re not alone in this devastation. That’s why I’m here, doing what I can, and why I ask anyone reading this to consider helping too. Whether it’s donating, volunteering, or just spreading the word about what’s happening here, every small act of kindness adds up.

It’s not just about the hurricane—it’s about the future of these towns and the people who call them home. We’re broken, yes, but we’re not giving up. We’ll rebuild, piece by piece, and it starts with the love and help we show each other today.

The picture above was taken in downtown Marshall, my hometown.