Up In Flames! Musical instruments Lost!

Hi, my name is Margie Misenheimer and I'm fundraising for my dear friends Bryan and Barbara Blake.

On July 28, 2023, while on the way to the Appalachian String Band Festival in Clifftop, WV, their camper caught on fire just as they pulled into a campground for the night. Fortunately, they escaped the vehicle unharmed, but within minutes the camper was consumed in flames and all inside was lost including their cash, credit cards and IDs. Two Cajun accordians, three fiddles and bows, a pedal steel guitar, banjo uke, guitar, and Barbara's work computer were engulfed by the flames. There is hope that the guitar may be restored but the other instruments are lost.

Over the years Bryan and Barbara have given abundantly to their community through the sharing of their music, Bryan serving as the local fire chief of the Marshallberg VFD, and Barbara's tireless work on behalf of commercial fishermen and women. They have literally fed thousands of people at the Gloucester Mardi Gras, the Wild Caught Seafood Festival, and countless music festivals. The gumbo pot is always open to any hungry soul who wanders into the Big Yellow Cajun Tent.

Now it's our turn to give back to them. The donated funds will be used to replace the lost instruments and other items consumed by the fire.

Thank you for your support of Bryan and Barbara Blake.

Below is Barbara's account of the fire and the days immediately following:

Bryan and I are grateful that we have lived to tell the tale of our camper catching fire Friday night. It broke out as we were rolling up to the Stone Mountain State Park campground office on our way to the Appalachian String Band Festival in Clifftop, WV. After all these years in the fire dept. Bryan has now experienced the other side of the flame. Our fire extinguishers were not enough. The fire jumped from the engine to the fiberglass body and consumed the camper before the VFD could arrive. I was terrified the full tank of gas would explode. All bystanders had to keep way back. People came out of the woods to give me stuff - so surreal to stand there barefoot holding a cantaloupe, a cucumber, and a hotdog while the fire blazed. One man handed me all the cash in his wallet. The park office lady, Jackie, was my angel. She asked me what size shoe I wear, and gave me sneakers that fit. She gave me a bag with jeans and a shirt that turned out to fit Bryan. Someone gave me a sweatshirt and pants. An artist from Boston hugged me and said no matter what, the fire will not destroy our creative spirits.

Bryan and I ended up wearing those very clothes and living off that man's cash for the next 3 days. We ate the cantaloupe and cuke too.

The most heartbreaking sight that night was watching the firemen hand stuff out to Bryan - burnt up fiddles, accordions, and his beloved pedal steel guitar. We lost everything - all of our instruments, clothes, cellphones, wallets, money, everything. I borrowed a young woman's cellphone and realized I couldn't remember anyone's phone number. I don't know my own son's phone number. How many numbers have you memorized in case you have an emergency? I finally remembered two land lines in Gloucester and called my neighbors, probably giving them just enough info to terrify them. The Park Superintendent was so kind - after we bagged up the charred remains and put them in a shed, he drove us to Wilkesboro and put us up in a hotel for 3 nights. He suggested we call our insurance the next morning and get a rental car. We lay there that night realizing no family or loved ones had any idea where we were.

Saturday morning we learned that our policy did not cover rentals, so we set out on foot to cross four lanes of highway to get to the US Cellular store. Without a cellphone, credit card, driver's license/ID you basically don't exist - at least it feels that way. Crossing that highway was almost as terrifying as the fire - it is no fun navigating a place set up for cars, not humans. How could this chain store concrete mecca be Doc Watson's hometown? We could afford to replace just one phone - we had to pay $31.25 in sales tax to walk out with our lifeline. We sat in the outdoor patio of a Mexican restaurant next door and started making calls. I went inside to ask for water and broke down sobbing in the middle of lunch traffic. It was the first time I'd cried. The waitress brought us water, then chips and salsa, then menus - "you must be hungry. It's on the house." I will never forget their kindness - I'm tearing up now thinking of it.

We crossed the dreaded highway and hiked across parking lots of big box stores, fast food joints, and gas stations back to our hotel. It was about 100 degrees and we relished our cool, dark room. Bryan went to charge his new phone and saw they didn't include the wall charger brick. No way were we crossing that highway again. So off we hiked across lots on our side of the road to a Goodwill store in hopes of a charger and a couple of clean tees. There we realized we couldn't afford Goodwill - everything was 4 or 5 bucks. I wasn't about to share our sob story with the cashier in a store full of people with equally if not worse sob stories. So we ventured outside, dreading the hot hike home. Bryan suggested we slip behind the car wash and gas station, joking "there's always a hobo trail." Sure enough, we find a grassy trail along some woods. We stumble onto a homeless camp, two tents and a little black dog sleeping in the shade. As bereft and flattened as we felt, at least we had an air conditioned hotel room. At least we had friends trying to wire us money (unsuccessfully because we had no I.D.). Later I walked behind the big box stores - an empty, desolate place of loading ramps and dumpsters - and saw several little trails off into the woods, glimpses of blue tarps and tin cans, 3 or 4 little camps. What a system we've created - behind the corporate big box stores are people just trying to not starve.

Late Saturday afternoon Kody, the junkyard's tow truck driver, picked us up to sift through the ashes of our camper. He mentioned he'd worked double shifts to support his wife so she could become a paramedic, but she discovered she could make more money working in a retail store selling collectable baseball cards. Seeing the camper in daylight was disturbing and I can't bring myself to post a photo of it. Kody was so nice, so patient, and helped us retrieve some blackened things. The hotel cleaning staff had given us rubber gloves and plastic bags for the task.

Sunday the Carteret Calvary started to arrive - our friends John and Christy, who recently moved to Morganton, showed up with cash and food. They drove us up the mountain to fetch our instruments. At the park, Jackie handed me a bag of clothes, a gift card to Dollar G, and 20 bucks that people had asked her to pass along to us. John and Christy took us to lunch in historic downtown N. Wilkesboro and I could finally reconcile that we are in Doc Watson's hometown. I began to feel "of the world" again. That evening our friend Bill Brown drove from Marshallberg in his 1978 Crown Bus, carrying money from various friends, and took us home the next day. Many lessons to take from this experience, but none more important than this: grace, kindness, and generosity are alive and well in this crazy old world. Bryan says when he sees someone in need, he won't hesitate to help them, because he knows in a split second he could be that very person walking around in someone else's shoes. We are so grateful and we love you all!