Disaster Déjà Vu

Our first year of nomad life back in 2018 we found ourselves touring the devastation of Hurricane Michael almost by accident.

I grew up in Oklahoma. Ground zero for Tornado Alley as it is often called. I’ve seen the aftermath of some ferocious storms. Once, I even had to help sandbag our house because the nearby Arkansas River was set to overflow its banks.

But what I witnessed on that drive through Florida’s panhandle was shocking.

From outside Panama City to past Mexico Beach there was nothing but devastation. Over thirty miles of coastline with ships grounded in the streets, houses washed off their footings, and pine forests snapped like toothpicks.

As of 2024, those communities were still recovering from the devastation. Helene made landfall just another thirty or so miles to the east.

Back then, we stayed in Carabelle, Florida. Parked up against the Gulf for two weeks of paradise and only minutes away was the worst devastation imaginable. That park was recently at the epicenter of Helene’s landfall.

We all know what’s coming next.

While in Florida, I found the closest place to volunteer. Nothing exciting – I sorted food donations, checking expiration dates on canned food, that sort of thing (food drives are not trash collection, people…)

Over the course of our travels, I continued to volunteer, often on public lands. But we also continuously dodged extreme weather events – fires, droughts, floods, and later COVID hot spots and lockdowns.

It all became exhausting. I’d be lying if I didn’t say the experiences had a bit of influence over our decision to purchase the homestead. A safe harbor in what are increasingly unpredictable times.

This year, first stop on our Grand Tour was to be the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

I was looking forward to hitting the trails during peak fall foliage. Instead, I’m back to where we started six years ago. Volunteering to help in the aftermath of disaster.

The RV park we reserved suffered no damage. But all the counties just east of there were hit hard by Helene’s aftermath. During our two weeks, I hope to help as much as possible, whether in the local community or the National Park.

I don’t have much of a platform. I’m just a guy who writes exciting stories most people haven’t read. I will likely never be a household name. I try to leave my politics off my public author space. People are free to have their opinions on whatever side of the vast political divide.

But I do want to say one thing – the frequency and severity of these extreme weather events will continue to escalate.

This isn’t a matter of politics. It’s a matter of science. Pure and simple data.

Our response should not be putting our heads in the sand. Or blaming each other. Or fabricating political spin from other’s suffering. What our response SHOULD be is to help our fellow Americans.

So instead of spreading memes or conspiracy theories, I’d encourage people to unplug from the hate machine and lend a hand. Offer encouragement and support if you can’t physically be there. Donate if you have the means to do so.

Below is a link to the official Tennessee government volunteer portal I’ll be using once we arrive later this month. If you’re local, volunteer your time. If not, they have funds established and other links to ways you can help.

https://www.tn.gov/volunteer-tennessee.html

To those in the path of the next storm, stay safe.

Russ



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