BRAD MCEWEN: Kindness in the face of tragedy

Ever since a freak weather event ran roughshod over portions of Albany last week ripping off roofs, annihilating trees, crushing vehicles and shattering some of the community’s most pristine neighborhoods, I’ve been struggling to put what I experienced into words.

Living in middle of one of the hardest-hit areas, I’m certainly able to share what it sounded like when 80-plus mile an hour winds tore through Rawson Circle, laying waste. Although words could never do it justice I could likely describe the devastation I encountered when I walked out my front door last Monday night and stared mouth-agape at the three once towering pines crisscrossed over the Vaught’s house across the street.

I could tell you in vivid detail about the wall of branches halfway down my block where two majestic oaks — the signature feature of my neighborhood — had closed like a castle gate across the 900 block of 6th Avenue. Or about the giant pines that turned Blake and Katie’s cars into metal pancakes and tore through their home.

Given enough time I could likely tell you about the dazed and confused faces of the Culpeppers and Seinkbeils as they tried to comprehend what was being illuminated by flashlights and bright bursts of lightning as they surveyed the storm’s wake of destruction mere minutes after the onslaught.

I could recount for you what it was we witnessing each of the hundred plus times my wife or I uttered, ‘Oh my god’ Tuesday morning as we climbed across fallen trees, picking our way around the corner and up to the lime sink — that wonderful park that has always felt like a part of our own backyard — encountering house after destroyed house.

The path of destruction was epic. It was widespread. And it was horrific.

The residents of Albany will spend months, maybe even years, trying to digest what occurred and even after all the cars are replaced, roofs are rebuilt and debris is swept from the miles of curbing, folks will still be talking about the winter wind storm that kicked off 2017, telling tales of the utter ruin they witnessed.

But I want to write about the things I dearly hope my fellow citizens and I never forget. I want the people of the Good Life City to always remember the love and kindness that poured through the streets with more force than 40 wind storms.

I want folks to tell the stories of how complete strangers helped put tarps over the Trice’s house in Merry Acres just because it needed to be done. I want people to remember the small army of people who passed up and down streets in Winterwood, Indian Creek, Hilltop, and countless other areas for more than a week, handing out cups of coffee and bagged lunches to make sure residents and relief workers were properly nourished.

“There were just so many people out, I couldn’t believe it — handing out water or hot chocolate, one had even made hamburgers; they were taking care of people,” said Leesburg City Council member Judy Powell, who came with her church to help residents in Rawson Circle. “It was all up and down the street. It was amazing. Everybody just jumped in.”

In the past few days I’ve heard and seen countless retellings of the events of that night and endured harrowing and detailed descriptions of devastation — hell I’ve told my own story more times than I’d care to remember — but tales of heartache and woe don’t provide the complete picture.

Those reports don’t adequately illustrate the massive heart of Albany, the one that’s bigger than all the fallen trees piled together.

And that’s the story I’m compelled to share today.

I want everybody to know about Bud Greco arriving first thing Tuesday morning to check on residents and coming back daily to help and bring gas for generators, and the many church groups like Samaritan’s Purse, or the crew that came to my neighborhood from Leesburg United Methodist cleaning up yards, or state Sen. Greg Kirk handling out soup to residents, volunteers and cleanup crews, and Dougherty County Commissioner Anthony Jones serving hot meals, and the countless others (too many to list) that dropped what they were doing to lend a hand.

People need to hear about the dozens of residents with trees sticking out of their roofs and detritus strewn a foot deep in their yards, ignoring their own worries to make sure their neighbors were okay.

They need to hear about the teams of volunteers combing the streets with chainsaws trying to find yards that needing cleaning-up, cleaning-up that for a great many citizens would be extremely costly if not cost-prohibitive.

The reports of the hundreds, nay, thousands who have dropped what they were doing and come to the aid of people they don’t even know are the ones that truly warm my heart and really bring home the message that for all its faults, Southwest Georgia is home to a wonderful group of people — people who believe in service, and who believe in the teaching of “love thy neighbor.”

As awesome as it’s been to behold, the response of the folks who live around here did not really surprise me though, having seen this spirit in action before, namely in 1994, 1998 and even last winter. But I was nonetheless beaming with pride Sunday when I stood talking with Rob, Terius, Randall and Bryce from R&D Land Management after they removed the remains of a fallen tree from my backyard.

Those gentleman (who, by the way, are exactly the kind of people we’d welcome down here any time) were in town from Gray to help with the overflow of tree removal work needed throughout the community, and had done nothing but impress all the residents of my block who hired them on.

And while their trip was no doubt profitable, I’m absolutely certain that the No. 1 thing they’ll take home with them is the knowledge that the people in Albany are some of the best in the world.

Each one of those guys gave similar accounts of how nice everyone was. They raved about how volunteers and the residents themselves took time to bring them food and water or just thank them for helping. Randall and Rob even went so far as to say that they had never been treated with such kindness before despite having worked in several disaster areas.

“Everybody’s just been so nice,” Randall said. “We ate four times yesterday and felt bad turning people down who wanted to help. We’ve never been treated like this before. Really. The folks here are great.”

And they are.

I know there’s some who are likely trying to game the system and take advantage of that kindness, and there’s most certainly others who are using the situation to prey on people, but from what I’ve witnessed those troubled souls are in the overwhelming minority.

I’m not always proud of the things that go on in my hometown, but during this week, when I’ve had to deal with life without power, and nurse a back sore from lifting and sawing, I’ve fallen into my borrowed bed knowing that no matter how bad it can be sometimes I’m right where I need to be — surrounded by some of the finest neighbors a man could ask for.

Thank you, Albany.

Email Brad McEwen at [email protected]. Follow @ABH_BradMcEwen on Twitter.