The Story of Taters: A Heartwarming Tale from the Aftermath of Hurricane Helene

Just two weeks ago, Hurricane Helene unleashed its fury on the mountains of Western North Carolina, leaving behind a trail of destruction and isolation. Small, tucked-away communities were cut off, with trees blocking roads and landslides making paths impassable. These were places without basic supplies or a way to communicate with the outside world.

Eight days ago, I got the call about one of these isolated groups in the rugged backcountry. Their numbers were unknown, and their situation was dire. With no road access and no way to know how they were faring, the urgency was real. But when the 82nd Airborne, later relieved by the 101st, got to work, hope emerged. They cut through miles of downed trees, creating a narrow footpath. Soon, volunteers began arriving.

When we reached them, we found a couple of hundred folks who had built their lives deep in those hills. These weren’t just houses; they were homes filled with history and resilience. They had faced many storms before, but never one that had taken so much away. Yet, their gratitude for the supplies we brought was overwhelming. Their first request? A log-splitter, to keep their homes warm as the cold crept in.

That simple request set off a journey. We hunted down the first of many log-splitters to keep their fires going. In the days that followed, locals carved out a steep, small trail to Burnsville, making it possible to get food, water, and warm clothes. When we delivered the log-splitter, it felt like a breakthrough. Heat returned to the homes, and with it, a glimmer of hope.

Even as the county worked to rebuild the roads, only locals could navigate the nearly impassable trail. But they pushed forward, determined and unwavering.

Then, this morning, Curtis, a local ham radio operator who had kept communications running throughout the crisis, made a quiet, simple request: taters. Potatoes, and nothing else. It wasn’t for more equipment or urgent supplies—just taters.

The request was pure and heartfelt. After days filled with worry and relentless effort, Curtis’s humble ask felt almost joyful. We had gone from not knowing if anyone was even alive out there, to hearing someone ask for something so ordinary. It was a reminder of the simple comforts of life and a sign that recovery was underway.

In the midst of all the devastation, the request for taters made me smile. It was a moment that brought warmth to our hearts and reminded us all that sometimes, it’s the small things that bring the most comfort. Curtis’s words were a symbol of the quiet strength and humanity that would carry this community forward, one tater at a time.