I had thought that the first day of spring was a good place to end this journal, but now something else has happened here, and I want to write about it.
It’s another national news story. It began on Wednesday night, and it continued until today. Here’s a brief summary:
Nine miners at Quecreek broke through a wall, only to discover that it was holding back an underground river. They should have drowned right then, but they were somehow able to scramble to higher ground. Still, they were trapped, and were almost certainly going to die down there. That was Wednesday. The Quecreek Mine is in Somerset County, just a few miles from where United flight 93 crashed in September.
It’s incredible. Two national stories within a year, within a few miles of each other, and within a short distance from Blackwater, where nothing ever used to happen.
The Quecreek Mine disaster began five days ago. I have been watching it on and off all that time on the news.
I took a break yesterday, though, to help Jimmy, Aunt Robin, Arthur, and Cody move. Jimmy has now been drug-free for seven months, but Arthur says he has been struggling. Memories of Warren are a definite trigger for him, so it’s good for him to move away from that place.
Jimmy rented a truck and transported the entire trailer to a lot on the north spur, about five miles away. The underground fire has been extinguished there, and families are allowed to move back in.
A crew that included Mom, Lilly, and Jenny came up to move the small stuff. It all went smoothly. By midafternoon we had the trailer in its new location and water and electricity running into it.
By dinnertime the job was finished, and Aunt Robin went to pick up four boxes of Domino’s pizzas. We chowed down on those and drank various Coca-Cola products.
While we were eating, Lilly filled us in on a job she was hoping to get. She explained, to everybody’s surprise but mine, “A new federal program is starting up in Haven County to help teenage drug users. They’re looking for counselors, and all you need is a high school degree. So I applied.”
Mom looked puzzled, but in a good way.
Lilly continued: “I’ve had two interviews. I think they really like me.”
Mom said, “Of course they like you!”
Other people said the same. And I realized that, after all these years, I now like her, too.
Jenny, Lilly, and Mom went back home soon after that, but I stayed. Arthur and I got the TV running in the living room. The Quecreek Mine disaster was the big story, 24/7, on the local station. We were determined to stick with it, along with thousands of other people. If those miners were going to die, they would not do it alone.
Aunt Robin put Cody to bed at nine o’clock. She and Jimmy watched the news with us until eleven, when she said good night.
Jimmy stayed with us for another hour, staring straight ahead but not speaking. When he finally wandered off to bed at midnight, things looked pretty grim for the miners. They had been trapped underground, freezing and wet, with no food or water, for five days.
But then suddenly, miraculously even, the news started to change. Special equipment had arrived. Contact had been made. And within one hour, the tragic story had turned 180 degrees.
The TV screen showed a narrow yellow cylinder being lowered into a shaft. It was thin enough to fit into a drilled hole but wide enough to hold a human body.
Arthur and I sat forward on the couch. Arthur started praying, I think, in a language that only he could understand. Then, over the next two hours, his prayers were answered.
The yellow cylinder returned to the surface and was opened by the rescue crew. A coal miner, covered completely in black soot, soaked to the skin, was pulled out of it. And he was alive.
The cylinder went down again, back into the bowels of the earth. It came up again fifteen minutes later. Another shivering black body was extracted from it. Another miner was still alive.
Here are the names of the miners and their rescue times: Randy L. Fogle—1:00 a.m.; Blaine Mayhugh—1:15 a.m.; Tom Foy—1:30 a.m.; John Unger—1:40 a.m.; John Phillippi—1:55 a.m.; Ron Hileman—2:10 a.m.; Dennis Hall—2:23 a.m.; Robert Pugh—2:30 a.m.; Mark Popernack—2:45 a.m.
All nine miners emerged from that cylinder alive and well. Arthur and I kept watching, mesmerized, as the TV station kept rerunning the tape.
Jimmy Giles came back out of the bedroom at 5:00 a.m., dressed in a white shirt and tie. He stood next to us and stared at the TV. He looked like he was having a rough morning. His face was flushed and his eyes were watery. He was facing some major triggers.
Arthur took immediate action. He pointed at the screen and exhorted Jimmy like a preacher. “Do you know what happened here, Jimmy Giles?”
Jimmy gulped, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. He replied weakly, “What? What happened? Did they all die?”
“Hell no! They did not die! They all got out! Every one of them. Nine for nine!”
Jimmy seemed to change with that news. His eyes came into focus. His shoulders pulled back.
Arthur continued: “Miners went in and got them, goddammit. Coal miners went in and got their own out. Because nobody else would, because nobody else could! Now, what do you think of that?”
Jimmy’s eyes filled with tears. “That’s good.”
Arthur pointed at the screen. “That’s great stuff! Right there!”
Jimmy added quietly, “That’s what you did for Warren. You went in and got him out.”
Arthur answered humbly, “Yeah. I guess so.” Then he returned to that preacher way, his voice rising. “The devil’s after us, Jimmy Giles. Right here, right where we are living. He’s after us something fierce, huh? He came at us from above on 9/11 and took forty souls. You know about those souls, don’t you?”
“Oh yeah.”
“He came at us from all sides with the meth plague, and all the zombies walking around here, and he killed a lot of us. Didn’t he? He killed Warren that way. Didn’t he?”
“He did.”
Jimmy’s tears spilled over onto his lined cheeks, running down in rivulets.
Arthur concluded by saying, “And now he came at us from below, in the Quecreek Mine. He trapped nine miners, and there was no way for them to escape. But they did escape, didn’t they? We got nine souls back today, didn’t we? We got nine back.”
Jimmy responded, “Amen,” and Arthur’s work was done. He didn’t need to say anything else; Jimmy was completely transformed. He straightened his back. Then he pulled up the knot on his tie (not all the way, but close enough for government work).
I got up and joined Jimmy and Arthur near the door. When Jimmy opened it, I saw a faint red glow in the east lighting the tops of the mountains.
I watched Jimmy’s lips carefully, trying to read them. Then I figured out what he was saying. He kept whispering over and over, “Amen. Amen to that. Amen.”
He was going to be all right.
We all were.
One day at a time.
Arthur and I stood out on the roadway, on either side of Jimmy, as he waited for the WorkForce van. The air smelled fresh and the birds were singing. It was a beautiful Pennsylvania morning.
It was like a morning in the Garden of Eden.
Like a morning in paradise.