Two weeks ago, I pitched an essay to The Asheville Citizen-Times titled “I Hated Asheville Until I Understood Why”. I’d made peace with place, and against all odds—somehow—had come to accept my complicated city. The editor expressed interest, but my word count exceeded the paper’s limit, so I incrementally sheared off words, sentences, and paragraphs. When the eye of tropical storm Helene came to rest over Asheville, I was close, only a couple dozen words away. And I knew what I wanted to say: I love you Asheville.
Now, it seems the publishing window for my at times critical essay has shut. And that’s okay. Many of my fellow Ashevillans have lost their homes and livelihoods. Many remain without power. Most of us are without running water. The schools are closed. As are the restaurants and businesses. The path forward is perilous.
I’m lucky. Not just to have our home after a natural disaster, but for the timing of the storm. If Helene had arrived a few weeks earlier than it did, I would’ve stood separate from my city. Fractured, I would’ve been denied wholeness with its complexity. I still would’ve been asking Asheville to take responsibility for what is only mine to own. And I would’ve squandered this opportunity to mourn, grieve, and rebuild our community as one of its members.
And that is a window I’d regret missing.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
(In Swannanoa, a city ten miles from where we live, my wife and I’s friend has lost her home and two cars. Her home, like 95% of damaged homes in Asheville, did not carry a flood insurance policy. If you reply directly to this email, I’ll provide the information to donate directly to her family’s recovery.)
