reporting from and for Kentucky
Driving down the interstate last Saturday, barely out of Lexington, I saw multiple police cars, lights flashing, approaching on the other side of the highway.
I moved into the left lane to better see as the cops drove by, followed by multiple coroner vehicles. I couldn’t note all the details while driving, but I remember the vehicles came from more than one county.
I still have no way of confirming this, but I suspected those vehicles were in response to the EF-4 tornado that moved through Kentucky the night before. I had been grieving for the loss of lives and property since I woke up to Gov. Beshear’s post that it had been “another tough morning” for Kentucky. Seeing what was likely evidence of that loss brought me to tears.
And I was heading straight toward the devastation—to Laurel County to report for The Washington Post.
This was my first time reporting on a disaster of this scale, and I was terrified—because I wanted to do a good job for the Post, of course, but even more so because I wanted to do right by my beloved state and my fellow Kentuckians who were hurting.
When I arrived in London, I went to the Sunshine Hills neighborhood, driving carefully around lumber and tree branches and downed power cables. Without having seen the neighborhood before the tornado demolished it, I had no idea which piles of debris used to be houses and which piles were simply where the tornado dropped them.
A woman cried as she told me her family lost their trailer and many of their pets. A guy around my age drove through the storm to get back to his parents’ house, which blew away as his parents sheltered, leaving them under the open sky. An American Red Cross volunteer told me this is her third Kentucky disaster in the last few months.
I can’t describe how wrong it felt to look out at a destroyed neighborhood. There was so much tan—the color of construction lumber, of the inside of tree bark. You’re not supposed to see the framing of a house or a tree’s interior. The wrongness permeated the air—even under sunshine and blue skies and fluffy white clouds.
On Saturday, I sent details and quotes to my Post editor, which were added to this story: At least 27 dead after severe storms sweep U.S. (Note: This and the link below are gift articles, which means you can read them for free without a subscription but will have to enter your email address.)
On Sunday, I continued interviewing and wrote a story about how hard Kentucky has been hit by extreme weather in the last weeks, months, years: In weary Kentucky, deadly tornadoes the latest in relentless spate of storms.
I love my state more than I can express, and I’m so heartbroken that so many Kentuckians continue to be hurt. I thought about sharing my reporting experience in last week’s newsletter, but I needed some time to process—so imagine the time, resources and care that the people personally impacted will need to process this tragedy. I am grateful that the Post asked a Kentuckian to share these stories, and I hope I was of some small service to my home.
If you are so inclined, there are many opportunities to donate, including to the Team Kentucky Storm Relief Fund. The silver lining—as I see it and as several impacted people shared with me—is the way that Kentuckians have come together to support each other.
Let’s keep loving our people and our Kentucky.