As I write this entry, most of the midwest seems to be underwater and the words “Noah’s Ark” no longer evoke images of a popular water park nor of a Biblical tale but rather a pretty fair summation of what life looks like right now for a whole lot of people. We have sunshine in Racine today and I can only hope that this is the story in much of the water-logged midwest, so there is a fighting chance that the floodwaters will recede and the cleanup can begin in earnest.
We’ve had some significant flooding here in the Racine area (it’s interesting how Racine seems to have received two to three inches more rain than Kenosha, which is right down the road from us) and the headline in yesterday’s Racine Journal Times: EPIC RAINS – says it all. As it happens, the neighborhood just below Holy Communion is one of the hardest hit in town, and the courts where Dave Krueger and I play tennis in the summer are completely underwater right now.) A few people we know have had to contend with serious basement flooding, including a member of the cast of “Guys and Dolls” who was actually late for Sunday afternoon’s performance because he was frantically trying to save some cherished belongings which would otherwise have been destroyed by water which was unexpectedly filling his basement. And I am so sorry that my friend and RTG colleague Doug Instines has suffered another round of bad flooding in his home. And there are hundreds of other homes similarly stricken.
What was even more chilling, though, was when I got a phone call yesterday morning from Marshall who was on his way back to Whitewater from Decorah – telling me of the horrendous flooding which was occurring there. . . the worst in recorded history, in fact. The (usually) beautiful Upper Iowa River meanders right through the heart of Decorah (like the Root River does through Racine) and to get from one end of town to the other requires the use of bridges – but by yesterday morning, every single bridge in town had been closed because of the flooding. So Marshall, in order to get from his parents’ place to the east end of town ended up taking a detour which brought him all the way to Harmony, Minnesota and back down again. . . almost 200 miles . . . just to reach the other end of Decorah. And once Marshall finally got to Whitewater, he found an inch of water in his basement and spent the rest of the afternoon clearing things out and cleaning things up. I can’t think of anything that could be more frustrating, especially after a long and tough trip, than to be confronted by a mess like that. (And of course, he’s lucky compared to some people with much larger messes and often irreparable damage.)
As soon as I heard the news about Decorah, I was on the phone to Matt and Randi – who live there – and actually talked to Matt while he was busy on a sandbagging crew in nearby Freeport. (He said that there were so many volunteers that they actually had to turn people away- an amazing problem to have. On the other hand, when it feels like the survival of your town is at stake, where else would you be? Even if you’re a lazy slob?) Randi is a doctor with the local Mayo clinic and she and her colleagues were all on Code Yellow, which meant that she was covering the E.R. and some of the hospital wards and trying to stay prepared for whatever might come next. The flooding was so bad, by the way, that the rest homes in town all had to be evacuated, with the most frail or ill persons evacuated to the hospital and the rest heading off to a church downtown. (I am trying to imagine what that was like- both for the evacuators and the evacuees. It could not have been fun to anyone on either side of the aisle.) Randi and Matt’s home, by the way, is fine- but much of Decorah is in trouble. The hope and prayer is that the dike, built in 1941 after a flood that was not as bad as this, will hold.
And here sit Kathy and I on one of the highest spots in all of Racine. (In fact, we’ve been told that our house is THE high spot on the southern end of the city.)* The biggest headaches with which we had to contend yesterday was that we were out of shampoo. Oh yeah, and the middle e-flat on our grand piano is sticking. And it really is time for us to mow our lawn again. It is absurd for us to be so untouched by all of this – and I feel a very strange emotion that is probably some variant of Survivor’s Remorse. Why was it him and not me? Why was it them and not us? I really felt it powerfully this morning as I opened up the garage door to put out the garbage. We forgot last week, so we had last week’s and this week’s to put out – plus recycling . . . so it was quite a lot. But I did not let out an irritated, tired sigh, as I normally would. I felt so tremendously fortunate that this was probably the only heavy lifting I would be doing today- and that our four garbage cans were filled with your run-of-the-mill trash and not filled with treasured belongings ruined by floodwaters. And I felt especially fortunate- and especially thankful – that we have sunshine today, and could only hope and pray that there is sunshine as well in the places that so desperately need it.
pictured: Our house this morning, complete with garbage cans out front. I decided to take a picture of this ordinary and peaceful scene since I wrote about taking out the garbage.
*Thinking about our house being on exceptionally high ground reminds me of a children’s book I remember reading and enjoying many many many years ago. It was about an eccentric old lady who actually lived up in a tree rather than in a normal house. And I remember the story saying that she had color TV, which back then was quite a big deal. Anyway, the townspeople regarded her rather unkindly until a terribly rainstorm caused a flood- and the only place of refuge was in this strange old lady’s tree – and she welcomed them all. I would give anything to read that book again! In fact, it would make one heck of a fun movie. What is weird is that when I read that book back then, the whole flood thing and fleeing to that tree sounded like a fun adventure. Today, the thought of that is not so amusing. But the importance of sticking together through the storm is as true now as it was then.