Damon Cain

The scenes and stories from communities across multiple southern states affected by Hurricane Helene are tragic, heartbreaking, and, apparently, stirring and inspirational. Americans are showing their resolve to pitch in and help. Perfect strangers who live and work hundreds if not thousands of miles from the storm's destructive path are rallying to the rescue and eventual recovery, caring not a whit whether the storm tore through red states or blue but focused solely on sending a measure of comfort to the weary.

Why is it that most everything under the sun, especially here in a state where the people deserve so much better, seems prepared for failure? It's as if we hand the folks in charge fresh stalks of rhubarb in the spring only for them to leave the pie in the oven too long. They shrug their shoulders at the result and walk away.

Gov. Jim Justice – as pompous, pretentious and self-promoting as they come and, as a person, politician or potentate, take your pick, a decidedly poor personification of the people he is supposed to serve as chief advocate – went out of his way on Wednesday at the end of the most recent legislative interim meetings to tell the whole world, “I told you so.”

Justice delayed because Hatfield dropped the ball While there have been no accusations of impropriety

The residence of former West Virginia Governor Hulett C. Smith, which is owned by family members of Gov. Jim Justice and located just outside of Beckley on Harper Road near Interstate state-77, was engulfed in flames on Sunday night.

Pinecrest Business and Technology Park is now in the hands of the Raleigh County Commission.

Hear any complaints about a rigged election? No, me neither. Funny how that works.

For all of those folks – Democrats, Independents and, yes, disenfranchised, old-guard conservative Republicans – who did not vote for Donald Trump and now fear the worst for our country, well, dry your eyes and grab some popcorn. The show has already started.

This is the weekend I check the fridge, the spice cupboard and the pantry to make sure I have the ingredients for my parmesan garlic yellow mashed potatoes – skin on and worked into submission by a hand-held potato masher and whatever brute strength I have left at this age. For this great-grandson of an Irish immigrant who came to these shores some 175 years ago, give or take, and made his way to the tallgrass prairie of west central Iowa, potatoes – in all forms – are central to my diet. And, I have found, nothing works in combination quite so well as garlic and cheese – two of the more important contributions to a life well lived, a pairing that should never be taken for granted.