Remembering the Flood of ' 93...

It is raining again today. It rained yesterday and will rain again tomorrow. I can do nothing about the rain but watch and wonder. My mind keeps going back to the flood of  '93, all the while hoping this year will not be a repeat of that horrendous summer.

I remember the night in June when we received 7 inches of rain in 7 hours. I was working the 11-7 shift at Fulton State Hospital. Our ward was unusually quiet that night, however the staff working the ward were all on edge. The storms pounded the window panes mercilessly. Lightning ripped holes in the atmosphere and thunder shook the ground.  Slowly, over the course of the night a few patients were roused by the noise. As they awoke from their troubled sleep, we watched history in the making together.

None of us could stay away from the windows. We watched as the already saturated ground received water it could not hold. The court yard looked like a lake. Water began to seep under the outside doors. The tunnels flooded. My friend and coworker Joe Sessler, wondered how we would get home. That night in June was the beginning of my area's story of the 'Flood of '93". There was no way we could know the severity of what was taking place. 

Over the course of the next few months, 50 people would die from the floods. 100,000 homes were raped, plundered and dismantled as the rivers were forced out of their banks, seeking a non existent stopping point.  

 People inland were glued to their t.v. sets; 24 hour news coverage showed us in detail what our friends, families and strangers were enduring.  We watched the water rip apart homes, business and towns. The news coverage was unbelievable. Our lives soon centered around sand bagging levees, evacuations and loss.  The price of food exploded until the governor issued a proclamation stating 'price gougers would be prosecuted'. Gas prices skyrocketed anyway. 

By the time it was all over and the flooding had stopped, the damages were estimated at 15-20 billion dollars. A town about 20 miles from where I live, Rhineland, Mo. had to be relocated to higher ground.

There was a heaviness in the air, affecting most people in Missouri, regardless of whether they were immediately in danger or not. The devastation could not be escaped, coupled by the fact the rain would not stop for any length of time. 

 I remember waking up early one afternoon. It was about 4 p.m. and I couldn't sleep. Melodi and I drove to Calwood for gas. The radio was on transmitting the saddest sound I have ever heard. The news  commentator was reading the list of all the road closings in Missouri. The list was long, extremely long.  His voice was the sound of utter despair, mixed with the flat affect of a seriously depressed man. Melodi and I road in silence, lost in the enormity of his words. When we reached the I-70 overpass it became evident  our major interstate was closed. The world at that moment seemed void. I realized we could not get to Kentucky if there was an emergency or to Lisa in Wichita. The feeling of fear surrounded my heart. I turned the radio off, immediately Melodi said softly, "thank you."

Eventually the rains stopped. It was October before that became a firm reality. Life, as it always does, found its center and things returned to a new kind of normal. Hopefully, this was the Flood of the Century and we will be spared a recurrence.  However, when it rains for days on end, I remember the Flood of '93 and I become a little uneasy.