Brazile’s stored possessions ruined by flood waters
By Andrew Patterson
Donny Brazile stands outside the wreckage of his storage unit across from French Broad Chocolate, painfully taking stock of his total loss. He pulls out a mud-soaked box filled with 40 years’ worth of memorabilia ranging from LA to Iowa, and Nashville to Florida. A poster slips out from the mess; a worker passing by catches a glimpse.
“Was that you?” she asks.
Donny Brazile
He nods. “Yeah, that was me.”
“Oh, you were handsome when you were younger,” she says.
In a day overshadowed by devastation, it’s a brief but powerful moment of humanity.
“I mean, it made my whole day,” he says and laughs while recounting that moment with me.
The loss of irreplaceable memorabilia and family heirlooms is tragic, but losing his stage equipment—the lifeblood of his music—was soul-destroying. The amps and speakers that powered his band, The 402010s, his solo career and even young musicians just starting out—all destroyed.
It’s a cruel follow-up to COVID-19, when two years’ worth of bookings vanished overnight. He had just moved to Asheville, seeking a fresh start after hurricanes and heartbreak drove him away from the beach. But music has always been his anchor. And in times of loss, he leans on the words of one of his idols, Neil Peart, the drummer for Rush: “What cannot be altered must be endured.”
Donny knows what endurance means. Music flows through him like a river, finding its way into our ears and souls. No matter how many times life knocks him down, his 5-year-old self—the one who first fell in love with music—would do it all over again in a heartbeat. “If you do what you love and you love what you do, you never work a day in your life,” the saying goes.
Rush poster that inspired Brazile’s music caree
At 8, he dreamed of being the next Elton John. At 11, it was KISS. At 12, he saw Rush live, and that moment changed everything.
“I went and saw Rush, the rock band from Canada,” he says. “It just so happened to be career week in the 7th grade—May 17, 1978. I’ll never forget it. I still have the poster on my wall today.”
That experience cemented it for him: he was going to be a rockstar.
At 16, he told his mother he was quitting school to move to Hollywood. Instead of panicking, she handed him a magazine clipping that read, “I’d rather be a failure doing something I love than a success doing something I hate.”
He’s lived through wildfires in LA, tornadoes in Iowa, hurricanes in Florida and now the devastating floods of Asheville. But this time, the loss has been met with something unexpected.
“So much loss was matched—and surpassed I would argue—by so much love,” he says. “That theme really stuck with me. I’ve never been more grateful for community.”
Friends helped him set up an LLC to receive relief funds. Others connected him with people
Poster from Donny Brazile’s early days as a musician
who could replace his lost equipment. The outpouring of support has been overwhelming. And now, he’s channeling that energy into something bigger: a benefit concert on June 8—a testament to resilience, community and the power of music to heal. “It’s not just a gig,” he said. “It’s a gathering. A way to bring people back together.”
Lyrics from a song that Donny wrote and will record this summer once held one meaning and now offer another:
Well, I know he hurt you.
She hurt me too.
People desert you.
Yeah, that’s what they do.
But you gotta keep going if you wanna get through.
And yeah, you’ve been hurt.
And yeah, it’s gonna hurt some more,
but things will get better.
(“Better”)
In a world so often focused on what’s broken, Donny reminds us to look for what’s beautiful. To pay attention. To show up. Believe. And, above all, that love—in all its small, stubborn, powerful ways—still wins.
Andrew’s book, My Journey Beyond the Summit, is available on Amazon. To connect or to nominate somebody that Andrew should feature, reach out on ap@andrew365.com.
