Our theme for the month of October is “haunt.”
Tumblr user Ohevoyev writes, “Hometowns have a thousand little ghosts pushing through the pavement that trip you up wherever you go how are we meant to live like that.” I am haunted by thousands of ghosts across my hometown of greater Western North Carolina, especially in downtown Asheville, Swannanoa, Black Mountain, and in between. One place that is rife with these ghosts, with this welcome haunting, is White Duck Taco.
White Duck Taco opened its first location in the River Arts District in Asheville, North Carolina in 2011. In 2018, White Duck moved to a three-acre property down the road, on the banks of the French Broad River. In the last ten years, White Duck expanded to several more locations across Western North Carolina. Named for its excitable and talkative head chef, White Duck Taco has been an Asheville favorite for locals and tourists alike.
My family, my friends and I frequented White Duck—any of its locations—over the last decade. My order has pretty much stayed the same: one black bean taco, chips and queso, and a sweet tea. They have the best sweet tea. Personally, I like to only get one taco and use the second tortilla to create an entire second taco, but maybe that’s because I’m a cheapskate.
Every time I’ve brought someone home from college, I’ve taken them to White Duck. I had my first legal drink at their riverfront location: a watermelon sangria slushie. We ate lunch there on the last day of my first production company internship. That property is full of beautiful memories: Mother’s Days, birthdays, awkward meals with future roommates, meeting-the-parents debriefs with boyfriends, teasing, laughing, many, many run-ins with people I know from around town. After all, Asheville is at its heart a small town.
You may have heard—or read, or seen—by now, but three weeks ago Western North Carolina was hit with devastating flooding from Tropical Storm Helene. The French Broad River rose to historic heights of thirty feet, submerging homes, parks, businesses, lives, leaving death and destruction in its wake. Thousands of people were without power, water, and cell service for days if not weeks. Still, three weeks later, many remote locations in mountain valleys have not been reached, making the extent of the devastation inconclusive.
White Duck Taco’s riverfront property was almost completely covered with flood waters. Its colorful picnic tables were washed away, the school-bus-themed brewery flipped over and moved 500 feet down the bank, the entire building was soaked and covered in several inches of mud. White Duck’s original location, and the surrounding galleries and art studios all higher in elevation, were similarly damaged and in desperate need of repairs.
There is no good way to frame how much of Western North Carolina and the surrounding regions has been destroyed by the September 27 and 28 winds and flooding. It has to be taken in bite-sized pieces. The one I’m currently chewing on is that all the ghosts I had at the River Arts District White Duck Taco have been drowned.
I start to feel overwhelmed when I go beyond that, when I consider the park I grew up riding my tricycle in, the same one where my sister finished her third marathon this spring, covered in mud made toxic thanks to a factory upriver. My high school, which was also my middle school and my elementary school, flooded, my mom’s classroom’s carpet ripped up and the drywall cut away. How many ghosts drowned there?
But what about the family that was supposed to open their dream coffee shop in Swannanoa and must now start from less than zero? What about the queer-friendly brewery that opened a month ago whose owners hadn’t gotten a chance to turn a profit yet? What about my old babysitter whose home she described as “shaken hard and covered head to toe in mud”? Or friends who are getting married in Black Mountain this weekend, despite all this tragedy? There is too much to hold; it is spilling out beyond my reach.
Helene took so much from so many—the drowned ghosts of my hometown are practically negligible. There are many places where the ghosts of my past used to thrive that have been destroyed and will be rebuilt without those memories. And in place of those ghosts haunting me whenever I return, I will be haunted by the photos and videos and stories of the death and devastation and heartbreak that plagued my parents, my friends, my community-that-is-no-longer-my-community.
Places like White Duck Taco will be okay—they have several other locations that are open and functioning. But there are hundreds of small businesses in Western North Carolina for whom Hurricane Helene spelled closure. While I am usually the first to complain about tourists, this tourist season they will be sorely missed. Or at least their cash will be. Small businesses need outside support to survive. Consider donating below:
General small businesses: https://www.charlotteobserver.com/charlottefive/c5-around-town/c5-development/article293591474.html
Short Sleeves Coffee Co.: https://www.gofundme.com/f/join-us-in-opening-a-coffee-shop-in-swannanoa
White Duck Taco: https://www.gofundme.com/f/rebuild-white-duck-taco-shop-together
General Western North Carolina: https://www.ncdps.gov/how-to-donate
Carlisle Patete (‘22) came to Calvin University from the mountains of North Carolina and graduated with a double major in film & media and creative writing. After brief stints in Los Angeles and Chicago, she now resides in Chattanooga, Tennessee, where she enjoys sweet tea on her front porch and identifying every tree and bird she runs into on any hiking trail.
1 Comment
Submit a Comment
This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.
I am so sorry to hear about all the precious ghosts, properties, businesses, and memories that have been affected in your hometown. Even those of us safe in the Midwest were terrified to hear of the predicted (and confirmed) extremities of Hurricane Helene. You make White Duck Taco sound like the place all the main characters hang out at in a sitcom. Will definitely be donating.