This story is part of a series looking at Hurricane Helene, one year later.
Eddie Coleman was happy to show me the top of his head again. This time, it looked fine; certainly better than it had looked at the beginning of last October.
In Coleman’s defense, the bruising last fall came from his ceiling landing on his head. Ed, a 200-year-old oak tree that Coleman had named after his father, crashed through the roof and caved the bedroom floor.
Ed was felled by Hurricane Helene on Sept. 27, 2024, one of thousands of old-growth trees toppled by a nasty combination of days of soaking rainfall in the runup to the 27th and Helene’s eventual shearing winds.
By the time Helene blew out of South Carolina, every county in the Midlands and Upstate had at least some damage. Some, like Greenwood, where Coleman lives, had immense damage that is still being cleaned up.
Had Coleman been in his bed the morning Helene tore through Greenwood County, he would have been the county’s second storm-related death. John Patterson was the county’s first. He died when a tree fell on his home.
Nearly one year on, Coleman is about to move back into his house. Or, more accurately, his new house, built on the exact spot of the one he’d lived in over the course of 78 years.
For the moment, Coleman is renting a house across the street and up about 70 yards. Inside are the few things he didn’t lose in the storm – artwork, some furniture, John Denver CDs.
Most of his possessions either didn’t survive the tree crash or didn’t survive looters.
“ They stole it all,” Coleman said. “All my garden tools, all my yard tools, all my hunting clothes and my boots and everything.”
Coleman has since met one of the looters, by the way. The guy told him his reason for stealing stuff was that it was on the ground. Coleman had put things outside on the ground to dry.
But lest you get the wrong impression, Eddie Coleman is not the type to hold grudges. In fact, he is seemingly allergic to being in a bad mood. A year ago, and to this very moment, if you ask him about his fortunes, Coleman will tell you that he’s a lucky man, that he’s blessed, because he’s alive, “and that’s the important thing.”
Even being looted, Coleman sees a silver lining. The boots, for example:
“The good thing about it … they no longer fit me,” he said. “They were size 12s than I'd gone to a 13. And so I said, whoever got them, more power to them.”
Coleman is also endlessly grateful to a community he said has come through for him in a big way.
“ People's been good to me,” he said. “Everywhere. I mean, just really good to me, giving me food and bringing anything I needed that got it for me. I'd see people in the Chick-fil-A and they go, ‘We got your meal, we got your meal.’ And I'd tell them, ‘Y'all don't have to do this.’ – ‘No, we want to.’
Across the street and down about 70 yards, Coleman’s old/new house is waiting for some finishing touches and siding. He’s expecting to move in by early September, meaning that he should be in his bed on his own property on Sept. 27. – and able to resume sitting on his porch and greeting his neighbors as they come by to see him.
“Boy, am I looking forward to getting into my new house” he said. “I lived there 77 years, so … it's not like a house. It is part of you.”
