Hispanic Heritage Reflections During Hurricane Helene
In my family, like many others, food is what brings us together. My family is Mexican-American, so after a long day at work or school, it was my abuela’s kitchen that we all gathered in. We huddled together in anticipation of whatever was cooking in her enormous cast-iron pan. My great-grandmother, whom the family cared for, was wheeled into the kitchen between us to enjoy the aroma, conversation, and food. My grandmother taught me everything that her mother taught her—how to perfectly grill a whole fish, how to roll enchiladas, how to slow cook beans to perfection, and how to make the most perfect red Mexican rice.
Most evenings, one of us brought a friend or a neighbor to the dinner table. Abuela never minded—if you came to the table, you became family, and no matter how few ingredients we had left, or how tight the budget was, there was always enough for one more (even if we had to squeeze). We are resilient and always willing to give because, as my abuela says, “we always have everything we need.”
I currently live 660 miles away from my family in St. Louis, MO. On September 27th, as my husband and I emerged from our home in Western North Carolina after Hurricane Helene, those miles felt infinite. We were without power, water, or cell service and had sustained some tree damage. As the regional devastation became apparent, the spirits of our neighbors and friends became dim. The toilet tanks ran out of water, the gas stations ran out of gasoline, and our coolers ran out of ice. And we were the fortunate ones.
Lucky to have my life, my home, and the safety of those closest to me, I remembered my abuela and realized I had everything I needed. With my camping stove, cast-iron pan, creek water, dwindling summer garden, and a few low-maintenance ingredients, I cooked.
First, it was just the comfort of beans and rice that I shared with my husband. Then, I cooked burgers for the neighborhood children (Okay, the buns were Trader Joe’s naan bread, but hey—we were desperate!). Then, it was the shrimp tacos we made by candlelight at our friend’s home to lift their spirits after they lost their office in Marshall, NC. Once our water service returned, we held an impromptu birthday celebration with baked green chili tacos at our home, complete with showers and laundry access for all who joined. Everyone at my table is family now. Bringing people together for dinner not only brought us sustenance but also mutual joy in a dark time.
While the perseverance of my Mexican-American family has carried me through my personal experience of this natural disaster, I have also been a witness to the resilience in Appalachia that is nothing short of awe-inspiring. In the face of such breathtaking destruction, I have never seen such kindness and generosity as I have in the past few weeks here in the mountains. Regardless of how little people have, everyone is making room to give more.
Currently, the Clark Nexsen Asheville and Johnson City offices are dispersed across Western North Carolina, Northeastern Tennessee, and multiple other states, and we certainly feel that distance. Yet we are all looking out for each other, checking in, sharing information, and extending constant offers to ensure we have everything we need. As our region slowly recovers, we will eventually return to some semblance of normalcy. I so look forward to when we can all return to the office, see each other’s faces, and sit at the table together again (even if we have to squeeze).
Johanna Spindola, AIA, is an Architect at Clark Nexsen located in our Asheville office. To contact Johanna, please email at johanna.spindola@clarknexsen.com.
