Big news happened Monday in East Palestine, Ohio. And dammit, we at PUP missed it. 

The day marked the two-year “anniversary” of that appalling and toxic Norfolk Southern train derailment, so Vice President JD Vance dropped in. He made his way to the village’s fire hall and gave a speech in front of several TV cameras. A clutch of local and national officials stood behind him.

A few blocks away, residents of communities still trying to recover from the train wreck stood on a street corner holding homemade signs reading, “We are still sick.” They could get no closer to the fire hall. During an earlier visit, Vance met with residents and poked a stick in one of the creeks running through town to see a sheen of chemicals rise to the surface. Apparently those days are over.

We at PUP had planned to cover all of this, but our timing was off. A few weeks ago, PUP committed to delivering donated food to Darlington, Pennsylvania, 7 miles from East Palestine, as part of an effort by residents living near the Ohio/Pennsylvania border to meet the needs of their neighbors still struggling to put their lives back together.

While Vance was speaking at the fire hall, we were at the nonprofit organization CARE412 in Pittsburgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood, loading up our vehicles with tomatoes, cucumbers, canned vegetables, canned beans, dried beans, potatoes, onions and dozens of other food items.

Then we sped off to Darlington. When we arrived at the designated parking lot an hour later, cars were already lined up.

Nadine Luci, a Rochester resident who’d helped coordinate the food drive, quickly got us organized. We unloaded our vehicles, then helped local volunteers pass out the food to those whose lives haven’t been the same since Feb. 3, 2023. Dozens of families had requested a food pickup – we needed enough to feed 240 people, Nadine said. The line of vehicles snaked out of the parking lot, down the street, and around the Darlington Fire Department next door.

There’s a lot of need in the area, Nadine explained.

“Some of these people just can’t make it,” she said. “They’re dealing with co-pays, paying for medicine. Some people are sharing a single vehicle in their family. Everybody is just struggling, and with prices going up ….” She shook her head as she walked away, carrying two bags to a waiting vehicle.

Since we’d missed the day’s big news event, we approached some of the people who had shown up for food and asked them their thoughts about the vice president’s visit. Many had hoped Vance would announce the Trump administration was making a major disaster declaration, which would unlock federal resources and ensure health care for residents.

People over a wide area were exposed to a stew of toxic agents two years ago. Now they wonder about the long-term consequences – among them, respiratory illnesses, cancers, reproductive problems. They’re concerned about their children’s health and development. Health issues can bankrupt them.

Vance didn’t make any declaration. Instead, he said this:

“A disaster declaration may have been very helpful 18 months ago. I don’t know that it’s still helpful today.”

We asked Christa Graves about Vance’s comment while we stuffed produce into plastic bags. Earlier in the day, Graves stood with several other residents on that street corner near the fire hall while Vance gave his speech. Many were listening to a livestream of the news conference. Vance’s wavering on the disaster declaration shook the crowd.

“There was this collective sigh when we heard that,” Graves said. She’s part of the community of organizers who’ve been demanding officials acknowledge the burden residents are bearing and do something about it. Graves said one resident heard Vance’s words and broke down in tears.

Residents were clearly hoping for something more from the one-time Ohio senator. During an earlier visit, he had seemed like an understanding friend. Now he sounded like a garden-variety politician.

Lori O’Connell pulled up at the food drive as it was winding down. She got out of her vehicle and warned everyone not to come close. She held her hand over her mouth to indicate she’s ill and didn’t want to spread germs. While volunteers loaded up her van with food, she unloaded on the new administration’s response.

She said Vance’s visit was a waste of time. “I was watching and thinking, ‘How is this any different than the last administration that came here for a photo op?’” she said. 

Exactly a year ago, then-President Joe Biden arrived, met with a few local officials and residents at the Darlington fire hall next door to where O’Connell stood and then visited the crash site, but he offered no concrete help. His motorcade of black vehicles blew past residents standing on Taggart Street and holding signs pleading for help. He’d waited a year to visit. His quick departure left residents gasping.

Now O’Connell is angry. A few months after the derailment, her husband, Wayne, was diagnosed with breast cancer. The couple live in Darlington, which got a heavy dose of that black smoke sent skyward by the infamous burning of vinyl chloride three days after the derailment. Breast cancer is rare in men — it’s about 1% of breast cancer cases in the United States. Doctors found cancer in both of Wayne’s breasts. Doctors told him they can’t connect the illness to the derailment. Lori O’Connell doesn’t believe in coincidences.

People who have the power to help Lori and Wayne and so many others aren’t listening. They come to town on special occasions like the anniversary, hold a news conference and offer up vague feel-good comments like, “We will not forget you.” Then they shake the mayor’s hand and fly back to Washington, D.C. Meantime, residents continue to live in an area they’re certain is making them sick.

Many want out. They have no faith in air and water testing conducted by subsidiaries of Norfolk Southern, no faith in government agencies telling them those tests reveal their homes are safe. They want government and the billion-dollar railroad company to figure out a way to buy the homes of those wishing to leave.

But there was no such talk from Vance. Instead, he spoke about rebuilding East Palestine. Several people at the food drive used one word to describe the day: frustrating.

As the number of cars thinned out, Graves and Luci and a few other volunteers stood in the parking lot and discussed ways to keep people’s spirits up. They realize they’re in a long, long struggle.

By then, the day had begun its gradual slide into darkness. All the politicians and reporters had departed. The second “anniversary” would soon be over.

Places like East Palestine and Darlington have few resources, the residents aren’t wealthy, they don’t run Silicon Valley tech companies or sit on prominent corporate boards. They don’t get invited to presidential inaugurations. In an increasingly transactional world, where does that leave them? Who will have their backs?

By 5:15 p.m. Monday, the volunteers had cleaned up all the empty boxes and bags that had piled up in the parking lot. The food drive had ended. One by one, the volunteers drove away. Nadine would be the last one out. She was preparing to get into her vehicle when a pickup truck entered the lot.

Nadine sighed. She’d had a long and hectic day, coordinating volunteers, preparing the site, setting up tables, getting traffic cones, calling to make certain the food would arrive on time. She watched the truck pull to a stop several feet away.

“I hope they’re not here for food,” Nadine said.

A young woman in the truck got out on the passenger’s side. She smiled at Nadine and began walking in her direction.

“The food drive is over,” Nadine said to her. “I’m so sorry.”

The young woman stopped in her tracks. She and her husband are raising a young daughter during a difficult time. Since the night of the derailment, their lives have been one misfortune after another. It’s like dominoes, the younger woman would later say. One bad thing leads to another, then another, on and on, and then you find yourself living in a camper that someone donated, thank God, because you can’t go back home. And nobody is talking about how all of this is affecting people. Everybody is damaged, they’re all worried, and yet there’s so much silence surrounding the wounds.

“I sent a note,” the young woman said. She and her husband are trying to balance work and family schedules.

“Are you Amanda?” Nadine said.

The young woman nodded.

“Oh,” Nadie said. She sparked to life, remembering. “I saved you some food.”

Nadine reached into the back seat of her vehicle and brought out two bags, one filled with produce, another with canned goods. Both were placed in bed of the pickup truck.

“Come here,” Nadine said. The two women embraced.

Downtown East Palestine was quiet near dusk on Monday, Feb. 3, 2025, the second anniversary of a toxic train derailment on the east side of the village. (Steve Mellon/Pittsburgh Post-Gazette)

Steve is a photojournalist and writer for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, but he is currently on strike and working as a Union Progress co-editor. Reach him at smellon@unionprogress.com.

Steve Mellon

Steve is a photojournalist and writer for the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, but he is currently on strike and working as a Union Progress co-editor. Reach him at smellon@unionprogress.com.