My granny used to always say that you can take a girl out of Kentucky, but you can’t take Kentucky out of a girl. How right she was. I may have moved to Dallas five years ago to join IAVM, but Bowling Green, KY will always be home. Forty-one of my 46 earthly years were spent there, and it branded its southern heart into my own. When I refer to “home,” that will forever be my point of reference.
Throughout my tenure with IAVM, my heart has bled when we receive reports of tragedies that have hit our member venues and their communities. Seeing the devastation left behind by earthquakes, hurricanes, wildfires, and even at the hands of humans in mass casualty events, never gets easier. There is something especially hard about it, though, when it hits home. Overnight on Friday, December 10, it hit my “home.”
Saturday, December 11, I woke to hundreds of missed calls and messages. There is nothing more frightening to see in our line of business. Immediate panic and worry set in before taking a breath, then opening those missed messages to see what needed to be done. My heart sank at the texts and images I had missed. My home state, my old Kentucky home, had been devastated by the most catastrophic tornadic event to ever hit there. Entire towns leveled, in some instances nothing left but foundations where centuries old buildings once stood, and untold lives lost. By now you have seen the images and read the reports.
It took minutes, that seemed like years, to connect with my sister and find out about the fate of my family and friends. We were blessed that everyone was safe and accounted for. Not everyone, even just a street over, was so lucky. As the hours passed, and I received more and more reports, the devastation and loss of lives became even more grim. Today, property loss is well within the billions, many are still without power and cell service, and 74 are confirmed dead; 12 are children. Their ages range from 2 months to 98 years old. Seven lost were from a single family. Every piece of my heart goes out to those who lost someone. Prayers for the searchers still looking for those not yet recovered.
One thing about Kentuckians, we have never met a stranger. When you see neighbors helping neighbors, strangers helping strangers, to dig through rubble or cook meals, it’s because that person is family. That person is a fellow Kentuckian. That is why Kentucky will forever have my heart, because it is my family. Every soul there is. So, as I prepare to drive back “home” for the holidays, to help where and how I can, I think of the old saying that “you can’t go home again.” The meaning behind the words in this case is poignant. I am returning to a place I see in my memory, and that place no longer exists as I see it. While what I am returning to won’t look like home in its landscape now, the people I will see along the way will still be the same hard working, generous hearts, and they are what truly make Kentucky home. They are what I am returning to.
I will be documenting my journey through many of the states affected here and on our Facebook page starting December 23, so please be sure to check back.
