Slaughterhouse Five: Burnsville Edition
It’s been a while since I wrote a Buttondown. Or perhaps it hasn’t. It seems like it was just yesterday when hurricane Helene visited. As far from the Gulf of Mexico or the Atlantic Ocean are from Yancey County in the mountains of western North Carolina, we have had rain and wind from hurricanes before.
I remember when Opal in 1995 knocked down trees on our property at the old rock house on the Cane River. I remember when hurricanes Francis and Ivan battered us back-to-back in 2004. One of them tore the steps from our deck when the river rose that high. The other brought water even higher - right up to our door.
Helene. 2024. Mein Gott in Himmel! I know there was a devastating flood in Yancey County in 1977, long before I lived here. When Ex and I were divorced in 2004, I moved to uptown Burnsville and he kept both houses we owned in Deland and Higgins. I’d been wanting for some time to buy back from Ex the Higgins house on the river. I so miss living on or near water. Thanks to Helene, I’m glad I didn’t. Helene washed it away.
Helene drizzled rain onto us a day or two before she really hit; that’s typical in the mountains to get a nice light shower up here while coastal areas are being pounded. And then it’s over. Not Helene.
I titled this letter “Slaughterhouse Five” because I feel like Billy Pilgrim - sliding around in time, untethered. And it’s not just me; I thought it was until I went to a gathering today - a celebration of life - where at least two other friends said they were experiencing the same thing: we know that Helene struck on September 27th, which feels like yesterday, and yet we know it’s been almost a month. But ask us what day it is, and we have to look at a calendar.
Years and years ago, when the Hell and Highwater bookclub, founded by me and Susan Neveu and Peg Jones, had grown a bit, we were sitting around yakking about this ‘n’ that, when the conversation veered into a “What brought you here?” thread. None of us were born and raised here. When we all told our how-I-got-here story - all different - we came to the conclusion that this is a vortex, a place that brings people together for a reason. Leastways, that’s the way I remember it.
I hadn’t thought about that until today, when we mountain Helene survivors - along with many out-of-town visitors - gathered for a celebration of a remarkable woman’s life.
This is for you, Deana: ART HEALS
Love,
Lucy