A section of the road leading to Editor Angela Kuper Copeland’s sister’s home in Buncombe County.
When I awoke early on that Friday morning, the rain was coming down in sheets and the wind was getting more aggressive by the minute. I made a pot of coffee not realizing that would be the last routine thing I would do for nearly 10 days.
Hot coffee in hand, I watched the trees bend sideways and then remembered the planters with canna lilies on the front porch. I grabbed my raincoat and darted outside, dragging three planters inside to the calm quiet of our great room. I was too late for one. The lily rested on its side, the ceramic pot cracked and potting soil spilled onto the deck. About that time, Marshall came in and saw what was happening. He grabbed an empty pot from the garage and helped me scoop the lily into it.
I’m one of the very fortunate ones. Except for a couple of trees that fell away from the house, the only damage sustained at the Copeland house was that broken planter.
Shortly after bringing the lilies inside, we lost power and internet. I had cell service for much of Friday morning and afternoon, so I texted back and forth with friends and colleagues. Most had no power but everyone was OK. Thank goodness. My sister texted me. She and her family in Black Mountain were fine but the damage on her road off NC Hwy. 9 was extensive. Landslides. Collapsed bridges. She walked a mile to a nearby fire station where she managed to get enough service to send the text.
Then I lost cell service.
We spent the next two days searching for a generator, hoping to save the food in our refrigerator and freezer. Our adventure took us east of Statesville. We eventually hit the generator lotto and brought our 8000-watt powerhouse home just in time to keep most of our perishables from perishing.
Throughout this time I tried to reconnect with my sister. I was able to get cell service east of Morganton. I read reports of new damage that occurred even after Helene blew through. Everything was OK on Friday but was her house now under a landslide? How was she? Did they have food and water?
On Tuesday afternoon, I was sitting in Publisher Allen’s office talking about the stories for the week when A&E editor Sandra brought in my phone, which I had left on my desk.
“Someone’s calling you,” she said as she handed me the phone.
“It’s my brother-in-law!” and bolted out of the office.
Everyone was fine. The house was still in good shape, save for minor flooding in the garage and laundry room. They had no power or internet or anything else and no timetable for when they would. Their road had crumbled under the force of the water but crews had managed to dig into the side of the hill and create a dirt path wide enough for a single car to pass through.
He thought he could take some backroads to the McDonald’s in Old Fort, south of I-40. Could he meet us there, and we take Kim and my niece Madeleine to our house?
I immediately agreed. Marshall and I would meet them at 10 a.m. the next morning. Now keep in mind that we still didn’t have power or internet ourselves, but I knew Burke was less like a war zone and that we would get power and other services long before they would.
The meet-up didn’t go quite as planned. Marshall and I were able to get to the McDonald’s. We sat and waited. No Scott, Kim, or Madeleine. My phone rang. Kim was on the other end of the line.
“Can you believe the bridge is closed?” she asked while laughing. What else could she do? “... No Scott, don’t move the barricade,” I could hear her say. After a little back-and-forth with her husband, she started talking to me again.
“Can y’all drive to the other side of this bridge? One side is OK and we can walk across it.”
We drove farther south until we reached the bridge. Part of the southbound lane was in the creek below. After hugs, we carried her things across and packed them into our SUV.
On the way home, I broke the news that we still didn’t have power or internet, but hoped to get electricity again later that day. And Allen said she could come into The Paper’s office to work using our internet.
She got settled into the house. She took the guest bedroom and 17-year-old Madeleine made the room over the garage her space. The sofa would be perfect for her, she said. I returned to work and Marshall drove back to the hotel where we had been staying in Statesville. The room also served as his office.
I was back at The Paper when Kim texted that we had power! By late Wednesday night, we also had internet. Things were starting to feel more normal. I was grateful mostly for my sister and niece. They had been through a tremendous upheaval. At least they could now take a hot shower.
She remained at the house on Thursday, doing laundry and a little bit of her remote, online work. Friday, however, both Kim and Madeleine came into the office. A colleague was out, so Kim set up her laptop on that desk, connected to our internet, and went to work. Madeleine was surfing online in a back conference room until Allen announced, “I’m stealing your niece.”
He took her down to Thornwell Books, a spot much more comfortable. Besides, she’s an avid reader.
The Friday at The Paper continued as most. We read and reread every word and critiqued the layout along with a significant amount of banter and plenty of laughs. Kim occasionally chimed in.
After sending the Oct. 5 edition off to the printer and the team’s Oct. 12 edition planning meeting, Kim, Madeleine, and I headed home. Later that night, Kim and I chatted in the living room.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve worked in an office like that,” she said. “That was fun. I miss that sometimes.” Kim began working remotely 16 years ago, long before most people.
My sister’s extended stay has done more than remind me how much I love my family. I realize how lucky I am to have the best work family anyone could ever have.
My family has grown by five brothers and eight sisters. I’ll let you guess which one is the crazy uncle.
Angela Kuper Copeland may be reached at 828-445-8595 or angela@thepaper.media.
