Echoes of Appalachia

The Quiet Struggle: Poverty in Appalachia

October 11, 2024

If you’ve ever been to Appalachia, you know it’s a place of breathtaking beauty. The mountains, the valleys, the sense of being connected to something deeper—it’s a place that gets into your bones. But there’s another side to this region, a side that doesn’t get talked about as much. Appalachia is also a place where poverty runs deep, affecting families, children, and entire communities.

For generations, folks have been making do with what they have, surviving in these mountains through hard times. I grew up seeing it firsthand. While my family managed to get by, not everyone around us was so lucky. Some of you might have memories like mine—kids at school with shoes that barely held together, clothes that had seen too many winters. I’ll never forget how some of my friends would scarf down their free lunch at school like it was the only meal they’d get that day.

How We Got Here

The story of poverty in Appalachia is complicated, but it didn’t happen overnight. Back when coal mining and logging were booming, this region had its share of work. It wasn’t easy work—far from it—but it was steady. But then the mines began to close, factories moved away, and jobs dried up. Suddenly, whole communities were left with little to hold onto. And let me tell you, when jobs go, everything else follows. Schools, healthcare, small businesses—everything gets hit hard.

The Struggles of Today

Even now, things haven’t gotten much better for many families in Appalachia. Some counties have poverty rates as high as 30%, and healthcare and job opportunities are scarce. Addiction—especially to opioids—has only made things worse. The land may be beautiful, but life for a lot of folks here is anything but.

In some of the hollers, it can feel like the outside world has forgotten about us. Houses are falling apart, and too many families rely on government assistance just to make ends meet. But the hardest thing to see is the children who grow up thinking this is normal—like struggling is just part of life.

Strength in Community

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the people of Appalachia are tough. We’re survivors. When times are hard, we take care of each other. When someone’s out of work, neighbors step in. If a family doesn’t have food, the community finds a way to get them through. It’s not charity—it’s just how we do things around here.

Churches and local groups are the lifeline for so many families. Food pantries, clothing drives, and Christmas toy giveaways—these small acts of kindness make a big difference. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. When there’s not much to go around, people share what little they have.

A Way Forward

Here’s the thing: people in Appalachia don’t want handouts. We want opportunities. We need better access to education, healthcare, and good-paying jobs. With the right investment, the people of this region could thrive. We don’t need someone to come in and “fix” us—we need the tools to build something better for ourselves.

Appalachia is a place that’s been through a lot, but it’s also a place with a lot of heart. We’ve survived through generations of hardship, and with a little help, we’ll keep going strong. Thanks for listening and for caring about this special place. Together, we can make sure these mountains continue to echo with stories of community, and hope.

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Riverside Cemetery: A Haunting Walk-Through Asheville’s Past

October 10, 2024

Tucked away in the Montford Historic District of Asheville, North Carolina, lies Riverside Cemetery—a place where history and mystery intertwine. Spanning 87 acres, this burial ground holds the stories of over 13,000 souls, including literary legends like Thomas Wolfe and William Sydney Porter, better known as O. Henry. But for those who walk its peaceful paths at dusk, there’s something more than history lingering in the air—some say it’s haunted.

The History

Established in 1885, Riverside Cemetery offers a serene resting place amid Asheville’s rolling hills. Its winding paths lead visitors through a garden of tombstones, monuments, and mausoleums that tell the stories of families and individuals who shaped the region. From Confederate generals to local artisans, the cemetery’s rich history feels alive in the air, with echoes of the past seemingly everywhere.

The Ghostly Legends

As with many old cemeteries, Riverside has become the subject of eerie legends and ghost stories over the years. Locals whisper about the spirits said to wander the grounds, unable to find peace. Some visitors claim to have seen shadowy figures among the gravestones or felt an icy chill even on the warmest days. One of the most talked-about apparitions is that of a woman dressed in white, seen weeping near a grave marked only with initials. Others report hearing soft whispers or footsteps when no one else is around.

The Haunted Soldiers

Riverside Cemetery is the final resting place for over 500 Confederate soldiers, and some say their spirits remain, wandering the grounds as if still on guard. Visitors have reported hearing the faint sounds of marching boots or the distant clinking of metal, as though a spectral army still patrols the area.

Literary Spirits

Perhaps the most famous graves in Riverside belong to two of Asheville’s literary icons—Thomas Wolfe and O. Henry. Wolfe, known for his towering novels about growing up in Asheville, is said to be restless even in death. Some claim to see his ghost walking through the cemetery, his long coat trailing behind him as he contemplates the town that shaped his work. Could it be that Wolfe, like the characters in his books, feels bound to the land of his youth?

O. Henry, with his sharp wit and twist endings, may have another chapter left to tell. Some visitors have reported seeing a figure near his grave who disappears when approached, leaving behind only a sense of unease. Is it the playful spirit of the author himself, crafting one last ironic turn?

Visiting Riverside Cemetery

Whether you’re drawn to Riverside for its history, its beauty, or its ghostly tales, it’s a place worth visiting. During the day, the cemetery is a peaceful retreat from the bustle of Asheville, with its moss-covered stones and towering trees offering a quiet place to reflect. But as the sun dips below the mountains and shadows begin to stretch across the hills, it’s easy to see why the cemetery has earned its haunted reputation.

Perhaps the spirits that are said to roam Riverside are simply the echoes of a bygone era, a reminder that the past is never too far away. Or perhaps, as many believe, they are still here—watching, waiting, and wandering among the graves.

Would you dare to find out for yourself?

By Tim Carmichael

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Moonshine in Appalachia: Memories of my Daddy and his Mountain Legacy

October 9, 2024

For nearly 60 years, my daddy made moonshine that people would drive from all over to get. His shine was as clear as glass, and folks would cross state lines just to fill a jug, some coming all the way from California. Daddy didn’t need fame—his reputation traveled on its own, built on word of mouth and the unmistakable quality of his moonshine.

Making moonshine was hard work, but it was something we did to make ends meet. I remember sitting with him and my brother, shelling corn by hand into burlap sacks. It was a long, tedious job, but just the start of what was to come. Once we had the corn shelled, we’d haul it down to the creek and let it soak overnight, so it would swell up and be ready to grind the next morning. Then came the real heavy lifting—carrying the ground corn, along with massive bags of sugar and yeast, up the mountain to where we had our eight mash barrels buried in the ground. That mash would sit and ferment for about a week or more, and when you uncovered those barrels, the smell of fermented mash hit you like a freight train.

Daddy’s still was nothing fancy, but it was effective. It was made up of five barrels—a big metal drum filled with water, three wooden barrels holding the mash, and at the end, a copper “worm” tube. He ran an old furnace motor to heat the first barrel of water, and once it started boiling, the steam would flow through the mash barrels and down the copper worm. By the time that steam hit the air, it turned into liquid gold. When that first drop of moonshine trickled out, you knew you were in for something special. Daddy’s shine was as smooth as it was clear, and people would rave about how good it was, and you could see the pride in daddy’s face when people complimented him over his moonshine. Daddy charged $7.50 for a 1/2 gallon of moonshine the highest price you could get back then, and people would still pay it and never complain.

Moonshining was dangerous business, and it had to be kept secret. Most of our neighbors knew what we were up to, but instead of turning us in, they’d keep an eye out. If they saw an unfamiliar car lurking around or a stranger asking too many questions, they’d give us a heads-up. We were careful, but we couldn’t hide everything. Folks around here often called moonshine a “sin,” but that didn’t stop them from accepting money made from selling shine when it ended up in the church’s offering plate. For many families, it was a way of getting by, especially when times were tough.

Daddy wasn’t in it for the glory, but his moonshine was the best. I know a lot of people talk about Popcorn Sutton, and I’ve met him a few times. He was a master at what he did, and I’ll never take that away from him. But there were plenty of other men in these mountains who were just as good—maybe even better. My daddy was one of them. His shine spoke for itself.

Then, in December 2009, when Daddy was 79 years old, his luck ran out. After decades of staying under the radar, he finally got caught. The raid took place up in Madison County, in North Carolina about 100 yards up a steep, wooded mountainside, near daddy’s house. Authorities seized more than 400 gallons of mash and 36 gallons of distilled moonshine. The burner was still warm when they arrived. It made the papers—the Asheville Citizen-Times reported it was the first and largest moonshining raid in the county in recent memory. It was a rough moment, but Daddy always knew the risks. When he went to court, they just gave him a fine and a slap on the wrist and that was the last time daddy ever made moonshine.

Looking back, making moonshine with daddy and my brother was more than just producing whiskey; it taught us the true meaning of hard work and how to provide for our family in the best way we knew how. I’ll always cherish those memories of sitting by the still, hauling heavy bags of sugar and corn up the mountain, and eagerly waiting for that first drip of moonshine. Although Daddy passed away two years ago at the age of 92, his legacy lives on in every recollection of those days and nights spent together crafting a guilty pleasure for so many. Those were some of the hardest yet most rewarding times of my life.

By Tim Carmichael

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Folk Magic: The Mystical Traditions of Appalachia

October 8, 2024
Appalachia is a region steeped in mystery, and nowhere is that more evident than in the folk magic that has long been practiced in the mountains. Known by many names—granny magic, root work, or simply mountain magic—this tradition blends herbal medicine, spiritual belief, and old-world customs into a unique practice that has been passed down through generations.

Folk magic isn’t just a relic of the past; it’s still alive in Appalachia, quietly woven into daily life for those who believe in its power. Let’s take a closer look at the roots of Appalachian folk magic and the enduring influence it has on the people of this region.

The Roots of Appalachian Folk Magic

The folk magic practiced in Appalachia is a patchwork of influences. When settlers from Europe, particularly Scotland and Ireland, arrived in the mountains, they brought with them centuries of magical belief. These traditions blended with indigenous practices from Native American tribes and African spiritual practices brought by enslaved people. Over time, this melting pot of influences evolved into a distinct form of folk magic rooted in the specific needs and challenges of Appalachian life.

At the heart of Appalachian folk magic is the belief in the power of nature. The mountains are seen not just as a backdrop to life but as a living, breathing force that holds the keys to both survival and mystery. Plants, stones, animals, and even the weather are imbued with spiritual significance, and those who practice folk magic know how to tap into this natural power to heal, protect, and guide.

The Role of the Granny Witch

One of the most iconic figures in Appalachian folk magic is the “granny witch.” These women were the healers and wise women of their communities, often sought out for their knowledge of herbal medicine and their ability to cure ailments that doctors couldn’t. Granny witches were known for their deep understanding of the land, often growing their own medicinal herbs or foraging in the forests for plants like ginseng, bloodroot, and jewelweed.

But their powers went beyond herbal remedies. Granny witches were believed to have a strong connection to the spiritual realm. They knew how to cast off curses, protect homes from evil spirits, and even predict the future. They were both respected and, at times, feared for their abilities. While not everyone practiced folk magic, nearly everyone knew someone who did, and the granny witch was often at the center of a community’s magical and healing traditions.

Charms, Spells, and Rituals

Folk magic in Appalachia often involved simple charms, spells, and rituals meant to bring good fortune, heal the sick, or ward off harm. These practices were practical, born out of necessity, and often tied to the cycles of nature.
- Healing Charms: Healing was one of the most important aspects of folk magic. A common practice involved using a combination of herbs, words, and actions to cure sickness. For example, rubbing an injured body part while reciting a specific prayer or chant was believed to draw out the illness. Similarly, laying hands on someone and invoking the help of God or the spirits could bring healing.
- Protection Spells: Appalachian homes were often “warded” against evil with simple, everyday objects. Hanging a horseshoe above a door, placing a broom across the threshold, or using iron nails around a property were all believed to keep negative forces away. These objects were thought to carry protective energy that would stop harmful spirits from entering a home.
- Divination: Many folk practitioners used simple tools for divination—seeking guidance or predicting the future. Reading tea leaves, throwing bones, or even observing weather patterns could reveal signs of what was to come. One well-known practice was “scrying,” where a person would stare into a mirror or water to see visions of the future.
- Rituals for Prosperity: Folk magic wasn’t just about healing or protection; it was also about ensuring a good harvest, bringing prosperity, or securing love. For example, planting certain herbs at specific times or facing a certain direction when sowing seeds could ensure a bountiful harvest. Carrying a charm or amulet, such as a rabbit’s foot or a special stone, was believed to bring luck or attract love.
Blending Magic and Christianity

What makes Appalachian folk magic particularly unique is the way it blends with Christianity. Unlike other forms of magic that were often seen as separate from religious beliefs, Appalachian folk magic frequently invoked the help of God or the saints. Many granny witches would recite Bible verses during healing rituals or call on Jesus for protection. The lines between religion and magic were often blurred, and it wasn’t uncommon for a practitioner to believe deeply in both the power of folk magic and the teachings of the church.

This blend of magic and Christianity reflects the practical mindset of Appalachian people—if something worked, it didn’t matter where it came from. Faith, magic, and survival all lived side by side in these mountain communities, each supporting the other.

The Survival of Folk Magic Today

Though the days of the granny witch wandering the hollers may seem like a distant past, folk magic is still alive in Appalachia. Many people continue to practice herbal medicine, pass down charms for protection, and hold onto the beliefs and rituals that have been part of their families for generations. The resurgence of interest in folk traditions, along with a growing appreciation for natural remedies, has kept these practices relevant.

Folk magic isn’t just a quaint tradition or a relic of bygone days. It remains a vital part of Appalachian culture, offering a connection to the past while continuing to provide practical help in the present. Whether it’s curing an ailment with a plant that grows nearby or hanging a charm above the door to keep evil away, folk magic is still woven into the fabric of life in these mountains.

The Spirit of Appalachian Folk Magic

At its core, Appalachian folk magic is about connection—connection to the land, to one’s ancestors, and to the unseen forces that shape our mountains. It’s about using what’s at hand, whether that’s an herb growing in the woods, or a Bible verse passed down from your grandmother, to make life just a little bit better, a little more secure.

In a place where life has often been hard, folk magic offered hope, healing, and a sense of control over the unpredictable forces of nature. And for those who still believe in its power, it remains a quiet but enduring force in the mountains.

By Tim Carmichael

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Marshall, NC: My Hometown, the Flood, and the Spirit of Appalachia

October 7, 2024

Marshall, North Carolina, is more than just a town for me—it’s home. Nestled in the mountains of Madison County, it holds the memories of my childhood, the laughter of my family, and the spirit of a community that’s been through more than its share of trials. Recently, Marshall faced one of its toughest challenges: a devastating flood that swept through the town, leaving behind destruction, heartbreak, and a community forever changed.

The Heart of Marshall

Growing up in the mountains of Marshall wasn’t always easy, but it was always real. The kind of real that shapes you, makes you appreciate what you have, and reminds you that even in the hardest times, people come together. Our town sits along the French Broad River, and like many in Appalachia, we know the power of nature—both its beauty and its danger. We’ve always respected the land and the water, but when the flood came, it was unlike anything they had ever seen.

When I was a kid, Marshall was a quiet place where folks lived simply. Older folks would sit on the bench in front of the courthouse and talk, or maybe grab a piece of pie from the small cafe or the laughter from jokes at the old barbershop. My family has deep roots here, going back generations in the hollers and mountains. We grew up learning the old ways—ginseng hunting with my father, popping jewelweed pods, and listening to the stories of those who came before us. It’s a place where family means everything, and the mountains hold memories as deep as the valleys between them.

The Flood That Changed Everything

No one could have predicted the sheer force of the flood that hit Marshall. Heavy rains poured for days, swelling the French Broad beyond its banks, turning streets into rivers and homes into wreckage. Lives were uprooted, businesses lost, and the town I’ve always known was left in shambles.

Seeing my hometown underwater broke my heart in ways I can’t fully explain. I’ve seen the faces of people I grew up with, people standing in shock at the sight of their homes, farms, and livelihoods destroyed. The flood didn’t just take material things—it took a sense of stability, a sense of safety that many never questioned before.

I remember growing up with winters so cold that snow would sometimes blow into the house through cracks in the walls, but this flood—it’s a different kind of cold. It’s the kind that leaves you standing knee-deep in mud, wondering how you’ll ever rebuild.

A Community Coming Together

But if Marshall is anything, it’s resilient. I may not like the word resilient much, but there’s no other way to describe the people of this town. In the wake of the flood, neighbors helped neighbors, even when they themselves had nothing left. I’ve seen volunteers drive from miles away just to hand out food, clean up debris, and lend a shoulder to cry on.

The Care Center in Greeneville, TN, has been a crucial part of the recovery efforts, feeding first responders, electrical workers, and anyone in need of a hot meal in and around Marshall. They’ve provided clothing, supplies, and a sense of hope in a time when it’s hard to come by. I’ve also seen an outpouring of support from people all across Western North Carolina and East Tennessee, from other states, and especially from all my friends who have donated to help get supplies. We’re mountain folk—when one of us is down, the rest rise up to help.

Moving Forward

Marshall is a town that’s been knocked down, but it won’t stay that way. It never has. There’s still so much work to be done, and the road to recovery will be long. But we’ll walk that road together, like we always have.

It’s hard to think about the pain and loss so many families are going through, but I believe that our mountains will stand tall again, and so will we. My heart is with Marshall and the other communities in Western North Carolina and Tennessee, now more than ever. This place, these people—they’re not just part of my story; they are my story.

As they rebuild, I hope we’ll hold on to what’s always made Marshall special—our community, our connection to the land, and the strength we draw from one another. The flood has changed everything, but it hasn’t broken us.

Marshall, NC and other communities affected by this flood, will rise again, and I’m proud to be part of that journey.

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Help Us Raise Money for Flood Victims in Marshall, Greeneville, Hot Springs, and Burnsville

October 5, 2024

My heart aches as I witness the devastation caused by the recent floods in our small mountain towns. Marshall, Greeneville, Hot Springs, Burnsville, and others have been hit hard. Homes are destroyed, roads washed away, and many families have lost everything. I’ve seen the damage firsthand, and now I’m asking for your help.

These towns, rich in Appalachian history, are struggling to recover. Many people here have lost not just their homes but also the essential tools needed for rebuilding—shovels, gloves, buckets, N-95 masks, mops, trash bags, and more.

To support these communities, I’m raising money. For everyone who donates, your name will be entered into a drawing to win all three of my Appalachian cookbooks: My Life on a Plate, Mountain Cookery, and A Sweet Taste of Appalachia, along with my historical books Shadows Over Shelton Laurel: The Tragic Massacre of 1863 and Haunted Grounds: The Secrets of Riverside. These books reflect my deep connection to Appalachia, and I’d love to share them with you while helping those in need.

You can donate through Venmo @Tim-Carmichael-7 or CashApp at $tipcar1. Every dollar you contribute will go directly toward providing supplies to those who desperately need them. No donation is too small—every bit helps.

Our mountain towns have always stood strong, but this time they need extra support. Please help us rebuild and restore hope to the people of Marshall, Greeneville, Hot Springs, Burnsville, and all the other communities affected by this disaster. Together, we can make a difference.

These places are more than just towns—they’re my hometown. I grew up here with my family, neighbors, and friends. The people of these mountains shaped who I am, and it breaks my heart to see them suffer. Let’s show them they’re not alone. Your support means the world, not just to me but to everyone struggling to rebuild.

Thank you for your kindness and generosity.

Tim Carmichael
Fighting Misinformation and Supporting Appalachian Communities After Hurricane Helene

October 4, 2024

In the aftermath of natural disasters like Hurricane Helene, misinformation spreads quickly and causes real damage. One false claim suggested that 1,000 people died in Burnsville, NC, with 900 bodies still without body bags. Another baseless rumor alleged that 1,100 people died in Asheville, and the government is hiding the bodies at Mission Hospital. Let’s be clear: there are no decomposing bodies, and no secret cover-up.

If you feel the need to say, “I HEARD,” stop and ask yourself, “Did I SEE IT?” If the answer is no, you’ve likely encountered misinformation.

These false claims are often spread by content creators chasing clicks and news outlets looking for ratings. Unfortunately, many people share these stories without verifying the facts, fueling unnecessary panic.

Another damaging rumor claims that FEMA or TEMA are confiscating donations—this is simply not true. In towns like Marshall, NC, there are official donation checkpoints, and access to places like Hot Springs and Marshall is restricted to volunteers helping with cleanup efforts, not because of a government conspiracy. There’s even a shuttle system in place to manage traffic, not hide any agenda.

A rumor with a grain of truth is that FEMA is only providing $750 per flood victim. While that’s accurate, remember that Congress controls FEMA’s budget. If you’re unhappy with the amount, reach out to your representatives. And you don’t need to spend that money on food—hot meals and supplies are readily available throughout the affected areas.

The federal and state response has been significant. Over 1,100 National Guardsmen, along with 400 specialized vehicles and aircraft, have been deployed in North Carolina alone, delivering more than 600,000 pounds of food, water, and supplies. On top of that, 10 other states have sent soldiers, airmen, and aircraft to assist.

Before you share any sensational story designed to provoke fear, take a moment to verify the facts. Ask yourself, “Did I see it?” If not, it’s likely misinformation. Let’s focus on supporting the people impacted by Hurricane Helene with real help, not spreading rumors that cause more harm.

With that being said, I’m continuing to make trips to Greeneville to drop off donations that are going to Greeneville, Marshall, Hot Springs, and Burnsville. If you’d like to donate to help these small communities, it would be greatly appreciated. You can Venmo me @Tim-Carmichael-7 or CashApp $tipcar1.

100% of these donations are going to CARE in Greeneville to support the smaller communities and my hometowns. Thank you for your generosity!

Tim

The picture above is my hometown of Marshall.
Focus on Helping Flood Victims, Not Politics

October 3, 2024

The recent floods in Virginia, North Carolina, Tennessee, and South Carolina have caused unimaginable damage, leaving entire communities submerged, homes destroyed, and thousands of lives thrown into chaos. The scale of this disaster is hard to put into words. For many, everything they’ve worked for is now washed away. In times like these, what people need more than anything is real help—not political debates, finger-pointing, or misinformation.

Unfortunately, it’s all too common for tragedies to be used as platforms for political agendas. But let’s be clear—this isn’t the time for that. The people affected by these floods aren’t concerned with which side of the political aisle someone stands on. They’re worried about finding a dry place to sleep, getting enough to eat, and figuring out how they’ll rebuild their lives. Shifting the focus away from real solutions to political arguments only adds to their burden. It distracts from the true goal of bringing aid to those who need it the most.

The good news is that relief efforts are already well underway. FEMA is on the ground, coordinating disaster response. The National Guard is conducting search-and-rescue operations from the air and on the ground, helping reach isolated areas. Federal agencies, volunteers, and local groups are all stepping up to provide assistance in whatever ways they can. These efforts are crucial in keeping communities together during this overwhelming time.

It’s also important to recognize that local volunteers are working tirelessly to help their neighbors. People from across the country are showing up with open hearts, ready to offer support. This is what matters right now—people working together to make a difference where it’s needed most. If you’re thinking about visiting the region for leisure, consider holding off. Appalachia is a beautiful place, but now isn’t the time for sightseeing. However, if you feel called to come, be prepared to grab a shovel, pick up debris, or lend a hand in any way you can.

Another vital way to help is through donations. But it’s essential to know where your money is going. Large nonprofits often provide critical support during disasters, but they also have overhead costs, especially if they’re coming in from outside the area. Their administrative expenses, travel costs, and other logistics mean that only a portion of your donation may reach those directly impacted. It’s not that these organizations aren’t doing important work—they are—but sometimes your money can go further when given to local organizations.

Local nonprofits and smaller groups don’t have the same overhead as the bigger national organizations. They’re already on the ground, embedded in the community, and working around the clock to provide relief. They know the people they’re helping, and they’re making sure donations get directly to those in need. I’ve seen firsthand how hard these local groups are working, and it’s inspiring. They are the backbone of the recovery efforts, putting in long hours to ensure food, water, clothing, and shelter are reaching the flood victims.

If you want to make a real impact, consider donating to these smaller, local organizations. Your contribution won’t get caught up in bureaucracy; it will go straight to helping families get back on their feet. Every bit counts—whether it’s cash, supplies, or volunteering your time. Communities are rebuilding, but it’s going to take all of us working together to make that happen.

And most importantly, let’s avoid spreading misinformation. False claims about who is or isn’t helping only lead to confusion and despair. People need to feel hopeful, not hopeless. There are boots on the ground, and aid is coming in from across the country. Appalachia will recover, but it needs real support, not rumors or divisive conversations.

This is a time for unity, not division. Political arguments don’t belong in this discussion when there are people who have lost their homes, their livelihoods, and even their loved ones. Let’s focus on what really matters—helping our neighbors in need, supporting those who are working tirelessly to assist, and doing everything we can to get Appalachia back on its feet.

Together, we can make a difference. Whether through donating, volunteering, or simply spreading the word, every action counts. The road to recovery will be long, but Appalachia is strong, and with your help, we can rebuild these communities and bring hope back to the people who call them home.
A Heartbroken Land

October 2, 2024

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.

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The Forgotten Towns: Flooding in Western NC, East TN, Virginia, and South Carolina

October 2, 2024

In the aftermath of the recent flooding that tore through Western North Carolina, East Tennessee, Virginia, and South Carolina, the media has spotlighted the hardest-hit areas. We’ve all seen the heartbreaking footage of places like Asheville and Unicoi County. Yet, there are smaller communities, the lifeblood of Appalachia, that have been just as devastated, though they often go unnoticed.

Towns like Iron Mountain, Morganton, Old Fort, Burnsville, Hot Springs, and Marshall have all suffered greatly. These communities, tucked away in the mountains, hold families, history, and culture that have helped shaped Appalachia. The waters may have receded, but the destruction left behind remains, and it’s these places that urgently need our attention as well.

While it’s easy to focus on the larger cities, it’s important to remember that the smaller towns were hit just as hard. Homes have been washed away, businesses destroyed and lives upended. These people are our neighbors. They’re folks who, like many of us, live simple lives, relying on each other for support. Their communities are woven with the spirit of perseverance, but that doesn’t mean they can do it alone.

When you consider donating supplies or money, remember places like Iron Mountain, Burnsville, and Marshall. They may not make the headlines, but their need is just as great. Items like canned food, water, blankets, clothing, and cleaning supplies will help get these families back on their feet.

Appalachia has always been a place of natural beauty, and it will be again. But the road to recovery is long. These smaller towns, often overshadowed by their bigger neighbors, need your help to get back on that road. So when you’re thinking about how to support flood relief efforts, keep them in your hearts and your donations.

Together, we can bring Appalachia back to its beautiful, welcoming self. But it’s going to take all of us, working hand in hand, to make that happen.

Let’s not forget those who need us the most.