In 1912, men wielding pickaxes, driving mules, and operating steam power completed the construction of the Nolichucky Dam to service hydroelectric power in eastern Tennessee. It was quite an engineering feat back then. Today, it is powering a personal reconstruction, that of hope and resilience, as I help my family, friends, and home community recover from the devastation of Hurricane Helene. 

Measuring 94 feet tall and 482 feet wide, the Nolichucky Dam has solidly stood sentinel over the communities that surround it through generations. It certainly anchors many of my core, childhood memories of growing up in Greene County, Tennessee. After being taken out of service in 1972, the dam became a beloved local fishing hole for smallmouth bass, and “the bird sanctuary,” a natural gem often explored by adventurous children like me, my siblings, and friends. 

In our weekly adventures around the dam, I remember exploring the decommissioned powerhouse, which had since turned into an eclectic, local museum about energy production and the history of the dam. There would be eight-year-old Bridgett pedaling her heart out on a stationary bike to turn on a fuzzy black and white tv set and understand the workings of energy. A literal educational “exercise” that I appreciate far more now than I did then.

Last weekend, I traveled back to the mountains of Greene County to deliver disaster relief supplies generously donated by community members in my current hometown of Collegedale. We drove over the Nolichucky Bridge and witnessed the powerhouse museum being demolished after being catastrophically damaged by the powerful floodwaters of Hurricane Helene. The ridge along the waters downstream of the dam had been cut like a knife, the topography forever altered, as the powerful water rose higher and higher. The sight filled me with shock, sorrow, and, yet, an equal sense of relief. This could have been so much worse.

In what the Tennessee Valley Authority is calling a one-in-5,000-year event, Hurricane Helene brought an inconceivable amount of rainfall to my hometown of Greeneville and the mountains that surround it in Northeast Tennessee and Western North Carolina. At the peak of the storm on the evening of September 27, 1.3 million gallons of water were pouring over the Nolichucky Dam each second. That is nearly twice the water flow of Niagara Falls, bombarding a 111-year-old dam. And yet, it stood the test. The dam held, saving many communities and lives beneath.

My brain fumbles to convey my heartbreak at the lives and property destroyed by Hurricane Helene, but deep appreciation abounds for the mighty Nolichucky Dam standing firm, saving thousands of lives, homes, farms and lands, including my family and friends. Had that dam broken, the devastation would have been so much worse. 

I am conflicted too, by the knowledge that my home here in the tri-state, the region my children call home and the region my organization serves, could easily have been devastated by this hurricane. 

Hurricane Helene was originally projected to travel straight through the greater Chattanooga tri-state region. However, the weather pattern was nudged slightly to east of us, and all told, the areas that were hit experienced an unfathomable 20 trillion gallons of water throughout Georgia, Tennessee, the Carolinas, Florida, and Virginia.  

Had Helene stalled over our region, we would be among the shattered, isolated communities, grappling with flooding from the Tennessee and Conasauga watersheds and their swollen tributaries.  Our homes, farms, and towns would be decimated; our landscapes that we love and cherish altered forever.

As I explored the apocalyptic scenes of my hometown region in recovery and scrolled through messages of support and solidarity on my social channels, I came upon a story written in 1983 in The Greeneville Sun, which interviewed a man named Joe Easterly who helped build the Nolichucky Dam in 1912. His description of sheer stick-to-it-iveness to create the dam, a lasting infrastructure resource in the face of an ever-changing, emerging future resonated so deeply with me. 

In 2012, 100 years after the completion of the Nolichucky Dam, visionary community leaders in northeast Alabama, northwest Georgia, and southeast Tennessee began building the framework of a regional collaborative that would eventually become Thrive. We didn’t know exactly what crisis or opportunity the region would face in the future, but we opened our minds and hearts, listening for the first time to the concerns, needs, and aspirations of the entire tri-state region, to create an organization that supports each of us in building a stronger future. 

In 2024, the Nolichucky Dam, built by hard working hands like Joe Easterly’s, held its own through the mightiest storm in its history. The men who built it are not alive today to see the results of their tireless efforts. But, my family and friends downstream of that river were alive to see it and benefit from those efforts.  

Amid grief and gratitude, is a fervent belief in Thrive as an organization. It is in and of itself is a framework for connection and resilience. Every day, my team works across county and state lines to mobilize partners across the tri-state to have conversations, research solutions, and catalyze projects that will make this region stronger in the future. 

When the next crisis hits this region, will we be ready? Are our mobilization plans institutionalized?  When our neighbors are in need, have we built strong enough relationships to know who to reach out to and offer a helping hand?  Do we have a data model that can help communities stay connected and access or deploy essential supplies and freight through the region?  

When we are faced with a massive challenge, most people want to help, but struggle to know where to begin. Connecting the mind, with the heart, and the hand is easier said than done, but it begins with relationships. Simply connecting with colleagues in neighboring counties about shared challenges is a superpower.

Even with all of the data available to us in this information age, no crystal ball can anticipate the human challenges, needs, and traumas of tomorrow. But the networks and connective frameworks we build are the footings of resilience and progress. At Thrive we understand that the work we do together today will set a legacy for generations to come. 

Do not take for granted the beauty and landscapes you see surrounding you here in greater Chattanooga. We must continue taking responsible approaches to the infrastructure and natural needs of our counties, cities, and towns, or else we too could witness the erasure of community identity before the next generation gets to be a part of it. We must protect the landscapes that protect us.

In his humble statement in 1983, it’s clear that Joe Easterly didn’t realize that his hard work would help take care of tomorrow. But now, after the events of Helene, we see that it was lifesaving. The thoughtful decisions we make and the work we put in today, will take care of us tomorrow. 

If you don’t know where to begin to shape your home community’s future, join us. Take a seat at the table and build relationships with your neighbors. Visit our website.  Come to our events. Learn more about regional research efforts, and programs that support local communities to prepare for responsible growth. Thrive is open to anyone who wants to make a difference in their community. Come meet a whole network of people dedicated to protecting and building a prosperous, resilient future for this place we hold dear.