It’s Monday morning and the numbness from Helene’s visit has finally worn off. I’ve spent the last few days debating whether I should post the usual last Monday of the month book review or write about Hurricane Helene. In the end, it’s a tie.

Saturday morning Hubby and I attended our 8 yr-old Grand’s soccer game, and it felt weird. By Saturday our area of the Carolinas had beautiful blue skies, a lovely breeze instead of hurricane force winds, and in all other respects was a normal fall-ish day. But of course, it wasn’t. I had this odd sense of survivor’s guilt knowing that while we cheered on these little players, parts of Western North Carolina and Eastern Tennessee had literally disappeared.

Helene visited us too. Some of our shingles ended up in our trees, and yesterday Hubby spent time on the roof nailing down a small sky-blue tarp. After mass we drove to our riverwalk. The trail we trained on for our Camino walk was under several feet of the Catawba River, a restaurant looked like Atlantis rising from the swirling current, and half the seating area of a small amphitheater was invisible beneath the murky water. Some rivers in this area won’t crest until later this week when all the mountain flooding finds its way here. And yet, we are so lucky.

I know the numbness and guilt are muscle-memory from surviving Hugo, who visited our area 35-years ago, almost to the exact date. Stepping outside that morning–why do these things so often show up at night?–our woods looked like a sawmill with half its trees down. Our roof was leaking. I was extremely pregnant. The sense of ‘where do we even begin?’ lasted just a bit because we simply had to begin.  

I’ve tried imagining how the people in FL, NC, and TN are simply beginning after Helene because her damage is so much more devastating than Hugo’s. Yet they are.

One of my Poet Sisters lives in Asheville near the River Arts District (I’m sure you’ve seen the pictures) and it wasn’t until yesterday morning before I left for mass that we finally heard from her, that she was okay. ‘Okay’ at this point is simply being alive–no water, no electricity–but alive and safe. Laurie has a Buddhist’s soul and told us she’s feeling a sense of peace. That’s not to say she’s happy with her situation, but managing her stress, acknowledging the work ahead, and simply beginning.

A week or so ago, a friend shared his poem about compassion. Shortly after I found this quote that I planned to use for a blog post, and it fits so well today. “Frequently people think compassion and love are merely sentimental. No! They are very demanding. If you are going to be compassionate, be prepared for action.” Archbishop Desmond Tutu.

I’m in awe of how quickly compassion turned into action. My friend Eric let me know this morning he may miss our poetry critique group later this week because he’s on his way to Boone with his chainsaw. Seeing the mule train being led into the mountains with supplies attests that every means possible will be used to get aid where it’s needed. The outpouring of support to linemen and first responders in the way of food, shelter, and extra volunteers swells the mountain with compassion and manpower as the waters start to recede. Grassroots efforts to collect supplies or donate money invite all of us to simply begin.

The Wildacres Retreat where I recently spent a week is the bridge–intact, unlike so many others– between the two parts of this post. Guests there over the weekend were airlifted to safety by a military helicopter; it’s the place where I finally met author Judy Dearlove and bought her debut novel Play On!

Some of my classmates and I joke about what would happen if we all end up in the same retirement community. In Play On! we get a clue. The novel also provides a bit of lightness at a time we need it.

I adored Maxine and the other residents of the Foothills Retirement Community–well, most of them, but even snippy Carlotta was fun and well-developed. When an unforeseen incident occurs that affects everyone, it’s Maxine that secretly sets in motion a plan to make things right. An ingenious plan that will wake up the community. From there Play On! is a humorous tale of subterfuge, pranks, and surprises that kept me guessing and fingers-crossing until the very last page. Metamucil in the drain? Hmm…

It’s a story of the endearing and enduring love of a 50-year friendship that still supports and helps carry out even the craziest of schemes. There’s no curfew at the Foothills Retirement Community, but slipping out under the cover of darkness? Hmm…

Above all, it’s about a community of loveable characters, both inside and outside Foothills Retirement Community, whose quirks and personalities bring laughter and help form an unlikely family.

In Play On! Dearlove shows us that age is just a number and while getting old may be a matter of the body, being old is a matter of the heart and mind. None of the residents of the Foothills Retirement Community is old.

Whether I end up in a retirement community or not, I hope I’m surrounded by friends like Maxine, Louise, June and Rosemarie and enjoying shenanigans into my 80s and 90s.

Here’s the link to purchase Judy Dearlove’s Play On!

Continued prayers, compassion, and action for all affected by Helene’s visit. I’ll be back next Monday.