Rosemary Knoll ’28
Guest Writer
Almost two years ago, on Sept. 27, 2024, Hurricane Helene stalled over the Southern Appalachian Mountains and wiped entire towns off the map. A mere 50 miles away was my hometown, the place I grew up and lived my entire life. Digging through FEMA’s flood maps, I confirm what I already knew: Helene was a near miss for me. Like a tornado, the Climate Crisis had miraculously spared my home just to obliterate my neighbors, and it will do the same to you.
I was here, at Holy Cross, when Helene made landfall. I watched it snake its way up the spine of the Appalachian Mountains, then sit still over Western North Carolina. There it stayed, as it dumped mind-boggling amounts of rain that rushed into small mountain hollers. With nowhere else to go, the water rose and didn’t stop. Soon after, concerned professors who vaguely knew where I was from asked me if I was okay, if my hometown had been hit. “No,” I told them, “we’d been the lucky ones.”
Weather is a tricky thing. Our climate system is enormously complex, and slight changes across the country can move storm systems here on the East Coast. My hometown was 50 miles away from Cherokee County, the westernmost county in North Caroline, which received at least 10 inches of rain from Helene. Asheville, NC, one of the worst-hit areas, is only 130 miles away. A slight change in weather patterns in late September could have doomed my hometown. Looking at FEMA’s flood hazard maps (a public resource that I suggest everyone take a look at), I can visualize which parts of my hometown would’ve been inundated. My house, on a hill and away from any waterways, would have been fine. I can’t say the same for thousands of others who live in low-lying areas, or the countless farms that would have been lost.
Helene was a wake-up call for many. 230 people died, entire towns were washed away, and Asheville, a major city, was in ruins. Nobody imagined a hurricane would have such an impact so far inland. How could a tropical cyclone, usually seen as a coastal threat, devastate inland mountain communities? The reality is, we’re in unprecedented times. I know it’s a saying that gets tiring to hear, and, as someone who tries to have a strong grasp of history, one I usually disagree with. Yet, scientists have proven that Helene was exacerbated by a warming world. Here we are: climate change is no longer a threat. It is here.
It is only a matter of time before a life-changing event hits your hometown, or nearly misses it. We all have to wake up. As I’m writing this article, another arm of the Climate Crisis is reaching my hometown. Currently, an industrial development that would likely house an AI data center is being proposed down the road from where I went to high school. Once again, a crisis that I hear about on the news is knocking on my door. Both the causes and effects of climate change are popping up all around us. That’s terrifying, but it also means that everyone has a part to play. Climate Change is not a nebulous thing; it’s right in front of you, but that means that YOU can do something about it.
Former Vice President Al Gore calls our new warming world “a nature hike through the book of Revelation.” We’re faced with a terrifying new reality: one that isn’t coming in the future and isn’t abstract. Severe weather events are here, and they’re coming in a real way that we will all feel. Similarly, the causes of climate change (rampant fossil fuel use above all else) are right in front of us. There’s fear and danger, but also hope and action. The defining question of our time, the answer to which will define humanity, is: What do we let win?
Copy edited by Lily Deforge ‘28
Featured image courtesy of BBC
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