Swannanoa Library, Sanctuary in a Storm

If you have yet to live through a natural disaster, most likely you will, especially if you are under the age of 65. Fire, flood, hurricane, tornado, drought, blizzard—these are all possibilities, each bearing its own particular kind of misery, and almost always bringing death and destruction. Although no one is spared, as a general rule, those who make less than middle class wages suffer most.

Swannanoa is home to many of these people. In what is a long valley and a convergence of rivers and streams, Swannanoa is situated along the banks of the Swannanoa River. It is a blue collar situated between a diamond choker and a pearl necklace inherited from someone’s Florida grandmother. If you make less than six figures annually, Swannanoa, located east of Asheville and west of Black Mountain, is the place you might find a small house to start your family or retire. Here you might find a bit of land on which to set your modular home or trailer until you can afford something bigger. Small houses that have been in families for generations are handed down to children and their children’s children. Their legacy may be a place like Beacon Village, south of the Swannanoa set along the RR tracks. On the north side of the river, new “affordable housing” is cheaply built, often on a flood plain, painted in bright colors which disguise their fragility.

We are home to the people who do manual labor, who work with their daddy’s and granddaddy’s tools, who leave at 6:30 am to drive older trucks into Asheville. There, they work construction, repair the plumbing, wire, and paint houses they will never be able to afford. To me, this is a proud and honest legacy. These trades, like writing and reading, are dying arts, despite the great need for their revival.

If you live in Swannanoa, you can get most anything fixed by a neighbor for a couple of beers, a pint of good whiskey, a fresh hot meal, or an apple pie. Then you’ll be invited to a cookout, or called upon to use your special talent in service to someone. Since I am seventy years old, I am, as I write this and make these little films, trying to serve my community. I can also cut in a straight line of paint standing on a 16’ ladder for my neighbor’s new business, “Good Company Pizza” as he and his brother rehab, once again, the building they just bought and finished fixing up when Helene hit.

When they and our neighbors finish putting it back together, Swannanoa will have two places to dine, Good Company and Popeye’s Fried Chicken. Until we have potable water—it doesn’t just come out of our faucets anymore, and may not for months to come— this is where we will eat out. Every other restaurant in town was completely destroyed or can no longer function.

The library you see in the video (sorry you had to flip out with me a second) is Swannanoa’s only library. A park surrounds it. When I moved here not even a year ago, I was surprised to see lots of children swinging, sliding, laughing and shouting as they kicked a soccer ball around the grassy center. Folks walked to the library from their homes and left with a book or three tucked under one arm. By spring of 2024, Buncombe County decided the library had too many building defects. Repairs would be too expensive. So they decided to tear it down. This was our ONLY LIBRARY. People have a right and a need to read in this country. People who can’t afford to buy books, or who don’t own a computer, deserve a library card and a place to check out books and use a computer. This was a place children made friends while parents got a reprieve, reading their new books while keeping one eye on the kids.

During the summer, there were art and craft festivals on the library grounds. Like so many libraries, it was more than a library. In the aftermath of Helene, it became our meeting place, a distribution center for water and food. Grovemont library became our village hub, the sanctuary we all needed.

For the first three days while we waited on our government to get the troops rallied for major help, this library was where neighbors who had never met got together for the first time. We were the volunteers who organized handing out water for as long as it lasted. Neighbors bought food from the Harris Teeter in Asheville and hauled it the 10 or 12 miles back, then distributed it for free. Chainsaw brigades were organized to clear paths on muddy roads, move the trees so we could get out. On Sunday, people brought the food that was soon to spoil in their fridges and freezers. Large grills were manned and we all floated on the smoke like cartoon characters toward the burgers, steaks, chops, ribs, hotdogs, Tables were loaded with salads put together from everybody’s veggies, while people with gas stoves sauteed squash and onions, stir fried green beans. We feasted. Some of us had not eaten more than a breakfast bar since the storm began.

At the library, we found out which neighbors were stuck, or needed oxygen or medicine. There, a woman created an organized list and arrangements were made for both delivery and transport. We discovered we could build temporary bridges across high creeks and carry food and water to those whose culvert roads and bridges had collapsed. The next day, a generator sat on the back of a truck, hooked to twenty charging stations so people could charge their phones, computers, pads, their flashlights and fans.

As FEMA arrived, much more water and food became available. At first, we were all we had. For a long while, we were enough. There was no talk of politics or the upcoming election. For those four or five days, people ignored immigration status, the color of each others’ skin, where you lived in the Valley. If you were in Swannanoa, resident or not, then you were entitled to eat and drink, freely and without question.

The library that Buncombe County would have torn down if our neighborhood had not loudly protested, was the hub of all this activity. I love our library. Swannanoans love their library. Its presence was a beacon, a lighthouse in a suddenly dark world. After the worst natural disaster in the NC history books struck the mountains, ripping away lives, homes, jobs, and leaving entire counties lost in shock and trauma, we met at our library. We had jobs to do. People needed basics, food and water. These were OUR people and we would take care of them. We had a mission to accomplish.

In the coming days, I hope and pray my beloved community of liberals and conservatives, of Republicans and Democrats will remember the days when our only title was “neighbor” and we embraced one another as we gave our second to last gallon of water to the next person in need. This is connection. This is community. This is “Love thy neighbor as thyself” communion, a golden rule.

A sign I saw outside the Unitarian Church in Black Mountain spoke volumes in three short words. It was a one line poem. Because of brain frog, it took me a minute to decipher. It read, “ Love—After—Relief .“

Let’s remember our library on Tuesday, November 5. How much that little brick building symbolizes! It is mythic in my mind. But for democracy and the raised voices of the people who live in a small, rough town called Swannanoa, Grovemont library would not be standing. After this election, I hope we will remember that once upon a time we stood up for our library and kept it open. That library was there for us when we needed it, as we were there for one another. During that life and death moment before the calvary came, we depended on each other and we are still standing, Swannanoa strong.