Trickle Down

Yeah, I know it’s been awhile guys. There was this hurricane, see. And I’ve pitched a book to my agent about the hurricane in partnership with a reporter colleague from Inside Appalachia days (Roxy Todd) and we were flat out either delivering supplies or gathering stories. Keep you posted on that.

But here we are, back to a world of normalcy and trying not to think about muddy water 24/7, and the Governor’s Summit on Prosperity began last night, hosted in my town at our most posh hotel. Live music and fresh veggie trays with cute little finger food nibbles lined the tables, while a whole lot of suits and dresses swirled on the patio in a “see and be seen” dance.

The weekend before this began, I was running a medical conference at BREAKS Interstate Park. It’s always a bit of a guessing game to know how many people will actually make it up the mountain to eat with us, so I take any leftover food from that event to the local motels where those in transience can get some nutritional content from great cooking. Two pans of lasagna went to the Econolodge and the Travel Lite when I got home Sunday, along with some breakfast trays.

So Monday night I’m staring at the swirling skirts and hearing the wall of sound so many individual conversations become in a networking space, the words that just bounce off your eardrums and you don’t need to hear them to know what’s being said anyway, and I wondered–what are they going to do with the leftover food?

Three conversations up the hierarchical ladder later, I was talking to someone very polite with “manager” in her title who had clearly never been asked this question before. First she needed to talk to Kristie, who organized the event and paid for everything. I got Kristie’s approval. Then Ms. Manager thought we might need to ask the health department if it was okay. Which made me giggle but it was a noisy night and she was busy so we agreed to connect the next day.

The theme of the evening was rural prosperity. The Boling Wilson where the reception with the live music and the pork belly squares and the sweet little corn and cheese and tomato toppers on flat bread were being served to the people who were going to make life better for everyone, was across the street and down a block from the Travel Lite, where the lucky unhoused manage to get vouchers for a week at a time.

Maybe that’s enough metaphor for one day, this being my first blog in awhile. I’ll let you know what happens to the food. Y’all have a good day.

A Gambling Man – – –

Wendy is busy today with her annual big medical conference so Jack is posting — –

I’ve never been a great fan of insurance companies. Sometimes you are required to be insured – auto insurance as an example. But most other forms of insurance are really just a gamble. Either by you or the company. You think that maybe someday you will need to make a claim for something and they are gambling that they’ll get a lot more from premiums than they’ll ever pay out.

I’m currently in communication with the company that insures our house, following damage to our roof with Hurricane Helene. So far I have dealt with three different people and they have all been friendly and polite. But I’m also conscious that they are all being paid to avoid, if they can, paying me anything at all.

On the other side is the equally friendly and polite roofing contractor who is the only person so far to actually physically inspect and survey the damage. His motivation is the opposite – he wants to make the job as big and profitable as possible.

Meanwhile here am I sitting in the middle with no knowledge of metal roofing!

I suppose it all makes sense somewhere and to someone, but it ain’t here and it ain’t me – – –