I watched in silence as the fog eased off the mountain, as though the gentle tones of the Methodists' church bells were coaxing the autumnal hills from beneath their misty blankets, urging them to join in the town's worship. It seemed every other car that ambled over the railroad tracks cutting through the coal town's main road turned into the tiny church parking lot. Curious faces turned to look at me shuffling along the sidewalk in my black hoodie and Ihiking pants - an obvious outsider.
Abandoning myself to the spirit of the place, I looked back at the little chestnut church overlooking the town. A young couple was taking photos of their children on the steps as music from the organ spilled out into the street. It was like something out of a storybook.
The quiet joy pervasive in Rainelle, West Virginia that morning belied the hard fighting spirit of the town's 1,500 residents still reeling from the effects of a flash flood that had swept through the community months ago. Delta 1 made the thirteen hour drive to the heart of Appalachia at the end of October to assist with the ongoing long-term recovery efforts here. We're working with a nearly 50-year-old organization called Appalachia Service Project whose mission is the eradication of sub-standard housing in the Appalachian region. This flood is their first foray into the realm of direct disaster relief.
For most of its existence, ASP has specialized in repairing or rebuilding damaged housing. Here in Rainelle and across other flooded portions of West Virginia, the organization is now building entirely new homes for qualifying flood survivors. Just in Rainelle, ASP plans to complete builds or repairs on 50 homes by Christmas. So far in support of their efforts our team has received power tool training, helped backfill and paint foundations, cleaned up worksites, and built porches. I had the opportunity to teach the rest of the team how to do drywall installation. I learned the process myself during Mike and my's period of "summer slavery", when we had to do 2 hours of bitterly whiny labor every morning before starting our long, lazy summer days at home. Thanks Dad. I'll probably never forgive you for having to dig the electrical trench to the barn, but at least the drywall part makes sense now, I guess.
The natives pronounce the five-state mountainous region's name something like "apple-at-cha" rather than "appa-lay-cha", which was foreign to my Yankee understanding. Pronunciation and the decidedly charming high country accent are not the only difference between home on the East Coast and West Virginia, however. The houses are cozier, the spaces vast, and strangers are warmer. It's odd to think that with the option of so much more space to spread out, communities are tighter here than in the crowded North-East.
I gave up almost immediately on capturing the beauty of this place in photographs. The sprawling mountain vistas are beyond the ability of my ageing smartphone and my own compositional sense to capture, and their impact can't be contained in any simple still image. The magic of the mountains is much more than just the view. To be sure, it feels as though we are walking on the grasping fingers of the earth reaching out to God's embrace, the gnarled backs of North America's ancient tectonic plates ablaze with autumn glory in their quest for the sky. But for all the splendor and rugged purity of West Virginia's relatively unspoiled natural spaces, they serve as a backdrop for the human drama that gives any place its deeper meaning.
To me, the beauty of Rainelle can be found in the generosity and genuine warmth of strangers. I can feel it warm my heart as a round of American Honey, courtesy of our new Aunt Peggy Sue, warms my throat. The feeling returns when the same friendly faces at the bar show up at church the next morning, along with the mayor, whom I’d last said hello to at the Dairy Queen across from town hall. I imagine I can see the tangible idea of a simple and satisfying life embedded deep in the rough, creased hands of people who live by the strength of their backs, and in the passion that burns behind bright eyes set in the tired faces of volunteers.
We are set to work here until December 19th. For some of our team it will be their first experience of Fall, or any real change of seasons. The locals say we may have snow within a week. After two months in a hellishly humid Louisiana summer, I’d forgotten what it meant to be cold. I’m hoping I warm up to the idea soon.
Til next time!
-Danny
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| New River Gorge, West Virginia |
