Liberty Begins At Home

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Looking for a way to help people in Augusta recover? Contribute here today to bring meals to those without power.

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It’s a lovely morning. As lovely as the aftermath of a hurricane creates. It makes a perfect opportunity to take my dog and daughter on a walk.

This also gives me an opportunity to see how other neighbors fared in the storm.

I come upon the first set. The husband is standing on the hood of his van taking a phone call. His wife stands nearby, enjoying the morning. They only moved here a few months ago and are trying to find people to give away their food to before it spoils today.

The wife tells me they were able to get gas and a few moments of air conditioning in Madison, but not much else. Everyone from our area has cleared the shelves of the other necessities.

Madison is about an hour to the west. Good to know.

We go to the bottom of the hill where my 5-year old sees her favorite playground destroyed. She rides her bike past it with a sigh.

We encounter several more neighbors as we walk up the hill. The first tells us Camping World got two trailers full of generators this morning. Another tells us she’s headed to an Army base out west to ride this out with her husband. My next door neighbor confirms at least four other houses are headed out of town. He’s thinking of heading north to stay with family himself.

A Chance for Power

My stepdad calls. He just picked up a generator at Lowe’s and they’re wheeling more off the truck.

This sounds like a great idea. We may be able to keep our food. I pack up my 10-year old with some snacks and water prepared to wait in line.

This is the first time any of my children has seen the destruction outside of the neighborhood. I point out trees collapsed on miles of power lines as she takes it all in.

The parking lot is fuller than usual, but not overflowing. The line ends at aisle 2 with a host of employees queueing up generators onto push carts as they try to maintain order.

All of the water bottles are also there next to a stack of carts. They’re doing their best to prevent any panic from rising in the crowd.

We walk back to aisle 15 near the end of the store. It’s already 10 am.

I have my daughter hold my spot as I look for any other supplies we would need. Long extension cords that would lower the risk of an electric fire are completely sold out. But you can piece together as many 8-15’ sections as you would like. There is also no fuel-oil mixture to keep it lubricated. Gas cans have disappeared. I start to worry about dropping this money on something that will end up a paperweight in the backyard.

I think over our other options. The ice held well overnight. But that sauerkraut in the back is starting to stink. It’s not making me any friends in the house. We’re going to have to make some more decisions about what to keep today.

40 minutes later, the last customer walks off with the last of the 600 generators. We were 620 in line.

Lowe’s has another truck coming today. But they don’t know what’s on it. It could be more generators, or it could be extension cords. While the logistics system is processing overwhelming support for our area right now, I decide it’s better to take our chances somewhere else.

Nagging Dread

With the little signal my phone can receive, I find Home Depot down the street has a couple models in stock. We quickly head over there and start to wait in a line that wraps around the front of the store.

There was news that neighboring Richmond County would turn off the water for 48 hours to perform maintenance. Their system is fed from the Savannah River, which likely storm debris clogged their intakes. But seeing only headlines on Nextdoor bred dark speculation.

One of the other ladies in line said her neighborhood in Grovetown didn’t have any water that morning. Around that moment, our phones wail with an emergency message. The county management team confirms there is no water outage planned for Columbia County.

I look around at many of the adult men in line who are my age. Their voices are heavy with expectation and precision as they complain of what they’d rather be doing. I’m surprised at how much more comfortable they look watching anime in their parents’ basement.

Maybe worry is making me hyper-aware. But disgruntled crowds aren’t the best place to be in an emergency.

The slow-moving line doesn’t help as I calculate how much food we need. We’ll likely end up short-handed here as well.

I turn to my daughter, who says she’ll follow me wherever I go. So I wish our new friends well and head over to Costco.

Cans for Days

Police here are partnering with the Costco staff to get everyone moving efficiently through the line. It starts at the next light down from where we normally turn in. It’s probably two miles long at this point. I’m grateful when those waiting are kind enough to let us cross through the line to get into the store.

We have a list of fresh fruits and vegetables we made the night before that will be shelf-stable outside of the fridge for several days. Those are easy to get.

But the water aisle is blocked to prevent a run. This also holds all the disposables we need to eat without a dishwasher. I pity the poor woman who has to keep running back to bring us utensils, plates, foil and foil pans, and cups as we think of them.

This turns out to be too many requests. The retractable barricade comes away as they open up the area to the rest of the customers.

We are about 80% done with our trip when we come upon a sample vendor shutting down his booth. He’s headed down to Savannah to ride this out. He also tells us the store is about to close because Richmond County shut off the water.

We can’t legally be here anymore. Score one for trusting my gut.

As we load the car, I realize buying bulk dry goods might allow us to make a run to Columbia, SC. It’s only an hour east of here. I search inventory on Home Depot’s website to find generators, but still no gas cans.

My wife advises against a trip. People are still headed out of town en masse and there’s no telling how long we could get stuck.

We head home to unpack and regroup. But my daughter shares the victory with me.

One More Time

My wife and I take another look through the refrigerator. Most of the ice in the fridge from yesterday has melted, but the food is still cold.

We will still need more ice. I take another daughter out to Kroger for a chance to get ice and top off gas in her van.

Fortunately, this way isn’t as bad. Stoplight service has resumed on three of the major roads near our house. Crews also repaired the metal transmission pole that had bent over backwards. It’s comforting to see progress.

We pull into the Circle K to try to get gas. The electronic pumps are working, but the payment system isn’t. I look in my wallet. Only $12 in cash and no way to get more. I turn around and head over to Kroger to pick up ice.

There’s a line outside the front of Kroger, too. They’re only letting a few customers in at a time, but they’re having trouble with their payment systems. We move forward as people give up, complaining with defeat.

A lady behind us had booked an Instacart order for her groceries. There was just enough service to place it, now she was trying to find enough service to cancel it so she could pick it up herself.

I look past her at the location where three cell phone towers used to stand. Now there are only two. And one of them is missing the transmission array on top. No wonder service is spotty.

As signal goes in and out, everyone’s phones goes off every 2-3 minutes with the same emergency alert reminder.

We get it. There is no water outage planned for our county.

At that moment, a Kroger employee announces they will not have any electronic payment services for the rest of the day. The line thins out quickly with groans and hands in the air. We make our way inside to spend the rest of my cash on another 4 bags of ice.

Winding Down

There’s still a high level of strategy to ice the food, even with less to cover this time.

Some food we throw away outright. Frozen foods are becoming refrigerated foods as they start to thaw. I wonder how much of this we’ll be able to cook.

I throw an entire pack of burger patties on the grill for dinner. My oldest rejoices at how much barbequed meat she’s eating these days.

Good thing, too. In another day or so, it could be all cans.

I put out my trash in the vain hope they will stick to their service schedule. There are still several roads around our neighborhood that will allow them to get in, but many others are blocked.

We are barely able to wash the dishes and containers cleared from the refrigerator. Hot water from the grill goes cold quickly and the sun sets on us before we can make another pot.

There is still a full dishwasher from Thursday night that never ran. But doing dishes by flashlight is more heroism than we need right now.

As we set up our beds in the cooler air downstairs, we get some good news. A banner notification from Nextdoor says a nearby neighborhood has power. It’s next to a main road like ours.

Things look brighter for tomorrow.

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Interested in helping other victims of Hurricane Helene in Augusta? Many areas are still without power or easy access to food.

I’m sponsoring a fundraiser for Golden Harvest Food Bank. Contribute today to get these good people back on their feet.

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Did you miss the first installment? Get caught up here on the immediate aftermath on Day 1.

Day 2

There’s more adventure to come. See what happens on Day 4.

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