As cleanup continues, East Palestine residents wait in limbo

Ideastream Public Media | By Matthew Chasney

Published June 9, 2023 at 6:15 AM EDT

Renee Funkhouser sits on her bed in her hotel room. — Renee Funkhouser sits on her bed in a hotel room in North Lima. She counts her blessings, but she’s frustrated by the way that all of the little disruptions, like the 15 minutes added to her commute to work, all add up. To her, the Norfolk Southern train derailment stings differently than something like a natural disaster would. “This could have been prevented,” Renee says.

A green truck drives by a yellow house in East Palestine. — The Sovich home on East Taggart Street is kitty corner from one of the entrances to the derailment site. A steady stream of trucks and heavy equipment rumble down the street all day. On rainy days, the air is thick and nauseating.

For residents of East Palestine, Ohio, the past four months have been filled with uncertainty since a Norfolk Southern train carrying hazardous chemicals derailed and burned. The company is paying to temporarily relocate residents until the massive cleanup effort is complete. But uncertainty over when that will be has left some residents who opted to leave in a state of limbo. As the months grind on, some residents are even tempted to throw caution to the wind just to return home.

Mary Lou Sovich, her daughter Renee Funkhouser and their cat, Ashes, have been living in a Quality Inn in North Lima. It’s a far cry from their tidy ranch house on East Taggart Street just a few hundred yards from the site of the derailment.

Renee Funkhouser, left, and her mother, Mary Lou Sovich, drinking their morning coffee at the Quality Inn in North Lima. — Renee Funkhouser, left, and her mother, Mary Lou Sovich, drinking their morning coffee at the Quality Inn in North Lima where they are staying until cleanup efforts are complete. They share a room, which doesn’t offer much in the way of privacy. “We do get along, but there are days where we get on each other’s nerves,” Renee says. “Oh, big time” chimes in Mary Lou. The pair are close, however. “If we were in separate rooms, we’d just spend all of our time together in one room anyway,” says Renee.

They were on the fence about whether to stay or go until one morning in early March when cleanup crews began digging up the soil under the tracks. The smell became so unbearable it stung Sovich’s throat. That was when they knew it was time to leave.

The hotel is not ideal, but it’s the best option for what they need.

Mary Lou Sovich sits on her hotel room bed. — Mary Lou is grateful that they are living somewhere safe, but the disruption to their lives has taken a toll. She misses the simple things. Mary Lou is an avid cook and she loves cooking for her relatives, something that she hasn’t been able to do for months. She’s also tired of eating out. Living in a hotel and not knowing when they’re going to leave is hard. “There are so many things all balled up together. It’s tough,” she said.

Funkhouser says she’s grateful Norfolk Southern is covering their living expenses while they’re relocated, but it’s not home. That’s something that can’t be replicated.

Matthew Chasney

For Ideastream Public Media

Mary Lou and Renee have made their temporary living situation a home as much as they can. But as time goes on, it becomes more difficult.

Back in East Palestine

Greg Mascher keeps the calendar on his kitchen wall set on Feb. 3, the night of the derailment. Greg and Traci Mascher are the primary caretakers for their granddaughters, Brayla, Kayton and Raylix.

That night they heard about the derailment and went to investigate. At first they thought a coal car had derailed and burned, but they soon realized they were tanker cars.

Traci called her cousin, a cancer researcher who lives in California, and she offered a warning in no uncertain terms: Get out of town now.

She opened her vacant home in Berkeley Springs, West Virginia, to them until it was safe to return home. It’s a safe haven high in the mountains. The air is clean and cool, and the mountain stream near the house doesn’t smell anything like Sulphur Run in East Palestine.

They’re grateful for this as life back home continues. The girls are doing virtual learning, but they still have to take state tests in person. This means Greg and Traci need to pack for five people and make the three hour drive back home.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do” says Traci.

Traci Mascher drives as her granddaughters sit in the backseat. — Traci Mascher drives her granddaughters Brayla, Kayton and Raylix to a creek to investigate the body of a dead skunk that the girls found floating in the water.

Greg and Traci check over their granddaughters' schoolwork over a table covered with a laptop and several bags. — Greg and Traci check over the girls’ school work. They went through this during COVID, but it’s different this time because there’s less support from teachers.

Adapting to distance learning all over again and commuting might be manageable if it weren’t for the uncertainty, they say.

They don’t know when it will be safe to return to their home. The Maschers hoped there would be a clear sign - like verification from independent testing. But it hasn’t happened that way.

As the weeks turned into three agonizing months, they decided they would simply go back home and see what happens. If they felt fine, they were willing to consider staying, but if they got sick, they would leave.

Traci Mascher stands in the kitchen of her East Palestine home. — The logistics of running a home away from home while also managing a home that they can’t live in is difficult, Traci says. These temporary visits home offer the sense of community that they don’t have in West Virginia.

They started feeling ill as soon as they were back in town. Since then they’ve had coughing fits, difficulty breathing, and they vomit nearly every day. Others who live near the tracks report similar symptoms.

The Maschers’ seven-year-old granddaughter Raylix says all of the kids in her class are coughing. This is the clear sign that they didn’t want.

Raylix and her cousin Haven swing in the Mascher yard. — Raylix and her cousin Haven swing in the Mascher yard on a trip back home. It was the first time the girls had been home since they left for West Virginia.

Greg waits until his granddaughters are in bed before he lets himself cry. If it weren’t for the girls, Greg and Traci would stay. East Palestine is home and their roots here are deep. Greg’s second great grandfather, Adolph Mascher, was mayor.

Traci and Greg Mascher sit on the couch in their East Palestine home with pictures of their grandchildren on the wall above them. — Traci and Greg Mascher at home in East Palestine. The Maschers bought their home three years ago. It’s in the part of town where Traci grew up, and it’s across the street from the girls’ elementary school where Greg also coaches basketball. Being away is hard for them, but they won’t come back until it’s safe.

Traci is willing to stay because, she says, “We’ve lived our lives.”

As comfortable as they are with that scenario for themselves, they refuse to risk the health of their granddaughters.

It’s unclear when - or if - it will be safe for these families to return to their homes. In May, Norfolk Southern CEO Alan Shaw announced that the company would compensate homeowners within a five-mile radius for property value losses because of the derailment. Both families are waiting for the cleanup to be complete and some kind of sign that it’s safe to return.

Surrounded by uncertainty, these families say, it feels like time stopped on Feb. 3. And for residents who chose to relocate, they’re living in limbo - frozen in an endless present.

Thursday, Feb. 1, 2024: An earlier version of this story incorrectly identified the Sovich/Funkhouser cat as Dusty. Its name is Ashes.