It’s raining again.
A week ago, we’d have been jumping for joy. Today, we quiver and pray.
I see that TVA has declared the Nolichucky River flood a “one in 5,000 years flood event”. And I guess that’s good.
I don’t know how people can sit on Facebook day in and day out, looking at all the trauma that unfolds across the world. I have been inundated with information for three days straight now and it’s proving to take a toll on my mental well being (some probably question how well it was to start with).
Wednesday was downpour day for us in Sevierville. I had a bit of excitement getting through Frog Alley, but that was the extent of it. Thursday was more rain, but nothing unusual, really. Perhaps for the time of year. And all these warnings coming out about not traveling Friday unless it was critical. Schools were closed. We scoffed. All for some rain.
And “some rain” is all Sevierville and my neck of the woods got.
But just two counties away, upstate….
Unicoi.
Greene.
And our neighbors In Cocke County, with little warning after Hartford Dam failed and downtown filled with water. Scary situation to see inmates being marched through downtown clutching their bedding.
One of my board members lives in Cosby. He’s at a bit of a loss. Cosby ain’t got squat to speak of, they have to pipe the sunshine in, so Newport is where he goes for his groceries, his medicine, his funeral home, his barbershop, his fast food, his florist for funerals. Many times you can’t get into Sevierville (forget Gatlinburg, who wants to go there, anyway?), it’s quicker to go to Hot Springs- that’s where his preferred pizza joint was.
Was.
One of my board members lives on the river. He’d just sowed down his riverbottom in fresh new grass seed.
I guess somebody will appreciate that down around Memphis, maybe.
One board member knew of 16 acres of soybeans under 8″ of water.
I spent the first three hours of my day on the phone, calling clients I first met through the Co-op. They were all upbeat and optimistic and glad to be thought of. One was mourning the loss of some very old trees. One was laughing about his boat and boat dock that was ripped from shore by a passing tree, and promptly sunk. One just wanted to talk awhile while he watched it rain some more.
I drove to the dam at midday, naïvely thinking it would be nearly deserted at that hour. No, there was a line of cars making their way through the drizzling rain and fog up the hill. We parked and got out and stood and watched with others who had driven from wherever to witness the spectacle of 450,000 gallons of water PER SECOND rush and fall through the eleven old concrete gates into the turbulent churning muddy water heading downriver, on to Knoxville and beyond.
There were locals and transplants and hispanics and Orientals and tourists (literally “dam Yankees”, as one friend so astutely described). There was an anchorman and videographer for the national news. We were all there just to see a bunch of water move. We were there to say we saw a part of history being made. TVA could be called a curse…but this weekend I think most of us will agree they were a blessing.
You can’t truly predict the weather. Man likes to think they can but they get it wrong all the time. I reckon the mountains don’t make it easy. They don’t make anything easy. People have always lived a hardscrabble life in these hills, eeking out a living the best way they know how. In Coal Miner’s Daughter, Dooley says, “In Kentucky, you got three choices: coal mine, moonshine, or move it on down the line.”
And that’s why we build by creeks. Because it’s easier (and cheaper) to get water when you’re close to it already. And for anybody who has never visited our beloved Appalachia: creeks, rivers, and lakes are found in abundance. You’re bound to be building right alongside some body of water, or crossing one to get there. Count the bridges you cross on your daily travels tomorrow. You’ll have to really pay attention, because I bet you never even think about them anymore. 30″ of rain in three days on steep mountains with 80 mile an hour winds…well, ain’t nothin’ gonna hold long.
Except one little dam built in 1912.
And so. While the nation ridicules our southern accents and our ignorance for better preparation, be that what it may, let this redneck mountain girl say she’s proud to be from here and thankful to have been spared yet again.
Please pray and help Unicoi County any way you can. They are truly devastated and I will say for the fiftieth time: they didn’t have much to begin with. They will have the hardest time, I believe. Banner Elk and Asheville are wealthy. Many towns over that way are. Erwin is dirt poor. And digging out from that dirt is a greater challenge than I can begin to imagine.
There’s need on every corner. You don’t have to look far. And there’s hope in the eyes of almost every one of us. The Nolichucky Dam taught us to believe, to stand strong, and know help is coming but you gotta hang tough as long as you can.
Love to all my Mountain Strong warriors. Prayers for more faith to see you through another day.
Goodnight from Amy’s Appalachia.