Holding the Line

What 12 hours in Home Depot reminded me about community.

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has.” - Margaret Mead

Twelve hours.

That’s how long my husband and I waited in line at our local Home Depot last Friday hoping to buy a generator on the eve of what was forecasted as “the biggest ice storm in two decades.”

It all started at 6:15am with the store manager announcing that 100 generators were being loaded onto a truck at a distribution center about an hour down the road and would soon be on the way.

Upon arrival, customers were given a square of white paper with a number written in thick black marker.

We were number 25.

Surely, we’d be home by lunch.

Living in the South, we are completely unprepared for any type of weather situation involving frozen precipitation. Surprisingly, we learned that some of our neighbors and friends already had resources (generators! kerosene heaters! camping gear!) to survive such conditions.

We are not these people.

And so, for the next half of a day, my husband and I passed our “25” back and forth as we took shifts in the line that snaked along the back wall of the store. One hundred of us shared this strange adventure, some sitting on orange Home Depot buckets flipped upside down, all clutching our numbers.

We were young, old, solo, coupled, grandparents, siblings…

An 84-year-old military veteran worked through the daily Wordle on his phone (his first guess is always ADIEU, in case you were wondering).

His wife, also in her 80s, casually mentioned she had written fourteen (!!) successful Harlequin novels and had once been a fixture on the romance book speaking circuit.

Twin brothers in their 20s whose grandmother arrived mid-afternoon to relieve them, beaming about her grandsons and speaking wistfully of her late husband who “always handled things like this.”

A soon-to-be empty nester feeling uncertain about her purpose when her daughters leave home. “Buy a journal,” I said. “Write about what brings you joy. Then, go do more of that.”

Four women, all strangers, gathered in a back corner for an enthusiastic Mahjong game on a makeshift table.

Every couple of hours, the store manager walked the line to ensure us that the truck was still on the way.

A quiet decision was made that we’d all look out for each other.

Folding chairs were gathered for those who were older.

A store associate passed out bottles of water.

When someone tried to cut the line, the group stood firm.

A man panicked, realizing he’d lost his number. “No worries,” the people around him said. “We’ve got you.”

We held space for one another.

When the truck finally arrived around 6pm and we loaded our generator into the car in the parking lot, one of our fellow line-waiters walked by grinning ear to ear.

“Later, alligator!” he yelled, waving.

“In a while, crocodile!” I replied.

I drove away buoyed. In a world that currently feels so dark, the day reminded me of how much more we all have in common than not. Of the power of community built in small, ordinary moments.

For the first time in weeks, I felt hope.

The next day, my eyes welled as I watched the video of the killing of Alex Pretti, speechless at the level of cruelty. My heart heavy.

Fred Rogers often shared something his mother told him when he saw frightening things in the news as a child: “Always look for the helpers. There will always be helpers.”

But what happens when the helpers are being killed by masked men representing the federal government?

This week, I’ve thought often about my Home Depot community.

About the veteran and his Wordle. The novelist. The twins and their grandmother. The woman wondering who she’d be once her children left home. The man who lost his number and trusted strangers to stand up for him.

If there is a way forward, I believe it looks a lot like people holding the line together.

Living with intention means being clear about your values. It means saying “I’ve got you” loudly and often. It means using your voice to stand up for what is right.

It’s easier to look away. To try to believe what’s happening won’t reach your community. But here’s the thing. It is most certainly on the way.

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