Roots in the Land

Not to be overly dramatic, but the town WAS destroyed. (Over the first couple of days, I heard veterans of war make resentful comments regarding West Liberty being described as "looking like a war zone" post-tornado. This because THEY had seen war zones. They had seen bombed and shot up buildings. That resentment fell quiet and soon to agreement once those veterans saw it themselves.) I felt like a bad tourist, an opportunist, as I held my digital camera up to the window of the bus and snapped as many pictures as I could while we rode down Main Street, then Prestonsburg Street in the renegade bus. In my mind, I was thinking, "Who knows when people are going to be allowed into town? When will it be safe for them to be given access again?" I was already posting on Facebook in my head. It is my firm belief that information dissemination is the most important first step toward rebuilding. Let folks know the ACTUAL situation. For some, it was not even near the worst they could imagine. For others, is exceeded the worst possible. Buildings had collapsed. Random pieces of metal were wrapped around trees. Trailers were gone, but the decks that had been sitting in front of or behind them still stood. Power lines were down everywhere. Headstones were overturned. Nature had vandalized our picturesque town.


We made the trek through town and turned onto 172. We had been stopped three times for verification of our mission. As we rode the 23 miles to Crockett/Moon, my mind wandered. My Grand Daddy (RIP Bernard E. Hill) came from "up" Smith Creek in Crockett. He came from the land and people of the land. When his education couldn't go further than sixth grade there, he found another option in Menifee County and worked for his room and board so he could finish his high school degree. He worked in the coal mines of Pike County. He attained his B.S. from U.K. He 'got out' of the holler. But,he was always, in his soul, that boy from "up Smith Creek." I feel that those roots and such humble beginnings kept him humble his entire life. Grand Daddy was an amazing man. My family still learns to this day of people he helped in any way he could - with request that his name not be mentioned. I am so blessed and honored to be his granddaughter.


My only previous trips up Crockett way had been to go to the Mennonite Greenhouse, per Grand Daddy's request. He insisted that all seeds and seedling plants come from that greenhouse. "Oh, and honey... why don't you stop and get some of that REAL butter?" The last trip to Smith Creek had been for my Nan Nan's burial years before. I didn't have the strength or heart to witness Grand Daddy's burial last year.  I am overly-sentimental I know - and am reminded of this fact often by others. But, my heart hurt. Knowing that Grand Daddy's "people" were also victims and may not be getting the assistance they needed gave me renewed emotional, physical, and spiritual strength.


The buses made it to the 172 Volunteer Fire Department, where we were told we were to take the supplies to East Valley Elementary School (EVES), also in Crockett. We turned back around and unloaded at the school. The volunteers on hand were told EVES was also going to be set up as a shelter. I went to the kitchen to inventory what food was on hand so I could let the folks at Morgan Central Elementary School (MCES) know in order to fill any gaps.


We loaded back up and headed back to West Liberty. As we came over Index Hill, the bus ahead of us radioed back to inform our driver there was a Wal-Mart tractor trailer in the MCES parking lot and there wasn't room to turn around. Our driver started toward the high school. We volunteers did not want to be stuck at another site, so (perhaps crazily - we were running on caffeine and adrenaline) decided we would rather walk the few miles to Morgan Central than be sitting on our hands. We hopped out and started through the IGA parking lot on foot when some of the smarter women flagged over a pick-up truck. It was a small S-10 WITH toolbox. This poor boy was stopped by a bunch of crazy women and asked if he would give us a ride over to the school in the back of his pick up. I should mention it was right at freezing and we were expecting snow. SIX of us piled in the back of that truck and held on for our blessed ride. I wish I knew that boy's name. Was brave of him to do that. I laughed the entire way... looking at us and how we must look to others. Don't mess with a bunch of Appalachian women on a mission! ha ha


As soon as we returned to MCES, rumor started spreading that all the supplies we had JUST taken to Crockett were going to be reclaimed and brought back to MCES as EVES was not a Red Cross sanctioned shelter. My heart broke. My spirit sagged. But, there was work to do. We started helping unload the tractor trailer of generous donations from Wal-Mart. I went around the side of the building to assess storage space for the flats of water and saw a problem. Sitting beside the building, in full view through the cafeteria windows where a lot of people were gathered, were SEVEN kerosene heaters. I mentioned the snow on the way, right? That was like throwing half a peanut butter sandwich into a room of starving people.


I stood beside the heaters and soon a tote of tarps was put beside them. A lady approached me, explaining to me that she lived in town and her house was still standing, but she only had half a roof and no windows. What would happen to the heaters? I told her I didn't know and to please go ask the folks at the Red Cross desk. She did and a Red Cross worker soon came out to see me and inform me that the heaters would be put in storage until needs could be assessed and the heaters distributed according to most severe need. (Snow was falling by that point.) I pointed to the tarps and said, "What about those?" He replied, "Same thing."


My bleeding heart shriveled. Let me say here: I understand The Red Cross is an organization that does amazing things somewhere in this nation. I understand they can't just have a 'willy nilly' approach in distribution. I understand that needs must be assessed, etc. I kept reminding myself of all these things. UNTIL the following happened. Keep in mind, this was my PERSONAL experience and my relaying this story is very much colored by my own thoughts/beliefs/exhaustion at that point.


As I stood there, reminding myself that it was not my decision, the woman who had first approached me about a heater came back out to where I was standing. She said it didn't sound like she could get a heater, but could she have a tarp? I kept to what The Red Cross had said, and watched her face and hopes fall. As she went back inside, I glanced over and saw an authorized individual load TWO of the SEVEN kerosene heaters, then kerosene-filled cans, on to a dolly and help load them into a man's car. The lady asking for the tarps saw this also and looked back at me, then went on inside.


I was crushed. Just crushed. I could NOT be party to that. I reminded myself they had their standards and practices for a reason. However, MY heart and spirit could not take it. I could not be party to that. I knew when I left MCES that day, I would not be back.


***To Be Continued***