Hurricane Helene: When Shit Gets Real
It's easy to look at the aftermath of natural disasters with detached sympathy—perhaps even apathy. As climate change ravages the earth with ever-increasing catastrophic storms, droughts, and freak weather events, I don't blame anyone for finding it difficult to feel anything but numb.
I grew up on the Outer Banks of North Carolina, where hurricane season and the destruction it causes is just a reality of life. Houses are built on stilts; there are closures due to high winds because of the numerous bridges needed to connect the island; and every year, another beachfront property is washed away and claimed by the ocean. The school year was delayed several times due to hurricanes when I was growing up, sometimes as long as two months. As a kid, I would stand by my window during every hurricane and sternly tell the huge pine tree that stood less than 20 feet from me it had better stay right there mister... or else. I have no idea what "...or else" would be exactly, but I believed in god back then, so I'm sure divine intervention was likely involved.
My point is that I've actually seen climate change happen within my lifetime. I've seen the ocean rise and watched my island home get smaller and smaller. I genuinely believe that the only reason why climate change deniers exist is because they've only seen middle America, where they can't witness the evidence for themselves.
And here is where I admit I've been guilty of this kind of thinking myself. Recently, hurricane Helene made its way up through the eastern states, utterly destroying parts of eastern Tennessee and western North Carolina with flooding that hasn't been seen since 1916. I used to live in Asheville, NC, located right in the path of this storm. But my skinny ass was safe and sound 3.5 hours away, experiencing sunny clear skies and mild fall temperatures. I had no idea that people were drowning as I sat comfortably in my little apartment in the middle of the state.
After hearing the news from some of my patients, I was befuddled by their descriptions of the havoc wrecked by the storm. Certainly, it couldn't be THAT bad, right? Asheville is 2,200 feet above sea level. Sure, the French Broad River runs through it, but how can a mountain city be affected by a hurricane??
Embarrassed by my ignorance, I typed "Asheville news" into Google and was mortified by what I saw. The entire River Arts District, where world-famous art galleries set up shop, is completely gone. Biltmore Village, where the country's largest privately-owned home is located, is under several feet of water. Parts of Interstate 40 have been washed down the mountain. Thousands are homeless with no electricity, food, or safe water to drink. Hundreds are dead or missing.
I've seen the aftermath of countless natural disasters, but this was different. This was unnatural. Surreal. Bizarre. My brain could not wrap my head around what I was seeing. Places where tiny streams would normally be puttering along were now violent torrents of water dozens of feet across. Homes built into the mountainside were swept away, leaving a pile of splintered wood and mud and death in its place.
I was shocked. And I felt profoundly guilty and small. But I was still detached. It still didn't seem real.
It wasn't until last night when my mother told me someone I knew was missing and assumed dead, that the reality of this situation hit me. He was my realtor and the first friend I made when I moved to Asheville. He was last seen on the roof of his demolished home with one of his beloved dogs. I learned they found his body today. Now it's real, and it's painful.
While idiot Republicans are making up conspiracy theories about hurricane space lasers, nebulous lithium mines, evil thieving FEMA relief workers, and other bullshit that makes no sense with just a smidgen of critical thinking, kindhearted people are dead, having left this world in terror and torment. It's not real to them, so it's easy to fabricate an alternate reality of absurdities that spit in the face of all those affected by this disaster. And it'll never be real until it happens to them.
But I understand now that it's a human trait—a fault in our wiring that everyone is susceptible to (not just ignorant, right-wing, selfish, unempathetic fuckwits). We can't stay numb to the realities of our changing planet. This is the only home we have. America, please vote blue. It matters. Trump and Project 2025 want to gut the Inflation Reduction Act, eliminate hundreds of regulations needed to reduce pollution by corporations, pull the U.S. from the Paris climate agreement, open oil drilling in the Arctic, privatize the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, severely cut the EPA and Department of the Interior, and will severely slow down the reduction of carbon emissions.
I realize I'm saying all this because it's real to me now, but it might not be real to you yet. I understand. I can't fault you for that. All I can do is introduce you to Lyn.
This is Lyn. He's dead. He was killed as a direct result of climate change. He was a good man. He gave back to his community. He was funny. He loved his dogs. He was gay and advocated for LGBTQIA+ rights. He doted on his mother (bottom picture, who was a spicy, sassy, and sweet woman) until she died. He helped me find a home after my ex-husband made me homeless. He had a great laugh. The man never met a stranger. He was loved, and he will be missed.
Please vote. Vote for Lyn and the future of our planet. Lyn's death should not be in vain. Vote Harris/Walz 2024.
RIP Lyn and his dogs (also presumed dead). You didn't deserve this. I hope I am honoring your memory with this post. If you can, please donate to:
BeLoved Asheville
• Cash donations can be sent via:
• Venmo: BeLoved-Asheville
• PayPal:
https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/belovedasheville
