Finding Our Way
It’s funny what you think of at 2:30 in the morning.
On Wednesday, it was “I wish I had a cleaver.”
I know. It’s oddly specific. I was pulling chicken, and I’m from the Alton Brown school of cooking. Not much need or interest in a single-task tool. The smoked chicken separators at the end of my arms were doing fine.
But as anybody who knows me will tell you, I’m often a prisoner of memories. And standing there in the wee small hours in my kitchen, finishing up one cooking project and tending the fire for another, I badly wanted to wield a cleaver for the chopping that was going on and more that was to come.
Mainly, I wanted to be like my Daddy, and his friends Larry Tyler and Tommy Matthews, and countless other men who taught me that making barbecue was a way to help people.
At five o’clock in the Horry County morning, with parts of or entire hogs just coming off of sometimes hand-fashioned barbecue pits, I helped load coolers for benefits, and yard sales, and church fundraisers of all kinds. I did that, and fetched coffee, and delivered biscuits, and helped with some other things as those men, in an industrial kitchen (that I never did figure out who owned), pulled smoked pig from bones and went to work, cleavers in hand. The sharp blades on stainless steel tables beat a staccato rhythm that I can still hear. It was – and still is, in my head – the song of assisting someone you might not ever meet. Pounds for sale to benefit a church trip or plates for free for those in need, the drumbeat was the same.
We still had double-digit team members at Harrison’s without power well into the week. So we fed them. I got a new smoker for my birthday, and had charcoal and wood. Match made in heaven, I reckon. And something easy to do.
Friends, there’s not going to be much easy for the next few months for those affected by Hurricane Helene. And, if you’re in the communities served by most of our stores, “those affected” means everybody you know. And a whole lot of neighbors you don’t.
In the Upstate of South Carolina alone, it’s terrible. From rural country roads to one of the most affluent areas in Spartanburg, destruction is everywhere. In western North Carolina and in Tennessee, it’s a tragedy almost beyond what is imaginable. Entire communities, in some cases, are just gone. So are people. Nearly a thousand, at last count, and with every day that passes, the thought of finding them becomes almost as unbearable as the thought of not.
A senior member of our leadership team has been in the area over the last week, providing help to the public safety departments we service. He’s not an emotional person. He’s not reactionary. He still can’t find the words for just how bad it is, or how bad it’s going to get.
Everybody’s favorite neighbor, Mr. Rogers, once quoted his mother as telling him, in the face of scary events in the news, "Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” We want to help. To that end, we’re accepting donations at every Harrison’s location – Hudson, Mauldin, Mooresville, Spartanburg, Winston-Salem, and our public safety-focused location in Columbia. If you’d like to donate but can’t get to one of our stores, our Foothills store at 3428 Hickory Blvd, Hudson, NC 28638 is accepting Amazon donations. If you’d like to donate that way, please request delivery between 9 a.m. and 6 p.m. on Monday through Saturday, so a team member will be there to receive it (we’re closed on Sundays).
There’s a list of approved items including a critical need for water, along with baby food and formula, diapers in all sizes, non-perishable foods (particularly in pop-top cans so that can openers aren’t necessary), medicines (including chewable Benadryl), socks, underwear, blankets, and batteries.
We’ve long believed that what makes our little corner of the Carolinas so special is the people. That’s why we love it. That’s why we serve it. That’s why we started this project focused on the stories of the folks who live here.
And right now, those folks need our help. They need YOUR help, in whatever form it takes. Whether it be a chainsaw or a checkbook.
Or a cleaver.
