This week asked a lot of us, and it asked even more of families half a world away. In Nepal and across the Tibetan plateau, flash floods and mudslides set off by a glacial collapse have taken more than 800 lives, with thousands still unaccounted for. Nearly 100 Americans were reported missing in the chaos, and while the State Department says most have not been confirmed among the dead, families here at home are living through days of not knowing. Rescue teams from India and China have joined Nepal’s own crews, who have already pulled more than 8,100 people to safety despite brutal conditions. It’s the kind of story that can feel distant until you picture it as your own town, your own river, your own missing neighbor. It’s worth sitting with for a moment, and worth remembering the next time a local relief fund passes the hat for a disaster overseas — those dollars travel further than we sometimes realize.
Closer to home, we said goodbye to someone who felt like family to millions: Dolly Parton passed away on August 25 at 80 years old. It’s hard to think of another public figure so universally beloved — a woman who wrote her way up from a one-room cabin in Tennessee and never once forgot where she came from, or stopped sending money and books back to kids who reminded her of herself. Whatever your taste in music, there was something steadying about knowing Dolly was still out there, still generous, still funny. That kind of loss ripples further than the headlines can capture.
And because we could all use it: doctors reported real progress this week for people with severe, treatment-resistant rheumatoid arthritis, using a therapy borrowed from cancer treatment. Three patients who’d run out of options reached remission. It’s a small trial, but it’s the kind of quiet, unglamorous medical progress that rarely makes the front page — and it’s exactly the reminder we need that good work is happening even in a hard week.
However far from home this week’s news has taken us, it’s brought us back to the same lesson: we look out for each other, we grieve together, and we keep showing up for the good news when it comes. That’s still who we are.