Spring Snow

The dogwood blossoms are drooping like wet toilet paper and the already heavy wisteria blooms are reaching for the ground. “It’s not normal!” people say – which makes me think about “normal.”

When I made my 90-day road trip following the Mississippi River from the headwaters to the Gulf, the River levels were described as “normal,” meaning they were neither in flood stage nor drought. The following spring, the River sprawled over so much surrounding land that it was deemed one of the worst floods of the last century. Nine months later the worst drought conditions in 50 years threatened to bring the entire barge industry to a standstill. Now, many of our River friends are again dealing with or bracing for floodwaters. The real definition of normal is constant change.

Heraclitus, a 5th century Greek philosopher, once said, “No man ever steps in the same river twice, for it is not the same river and he is not the same man.” We humans can be a bit arrogant – we decide on parameters and expect Nature will stay within them. She smiles at us and goes her own way.

That’s something the River has to teach us that can ripple down to the really small things in life – like the fact that my plans for the weekend have changed. My husband is thrilled that it’s not window-washing weather – although it’s not really bike-riding weather either. By foiling our plans, we are offered a gift of humility and an opportunity to pick up our feet and go with the flow of life.

Anyone know of any good movies?

First, some background – if you were near the Mississippi River in the years between 1995 and 2008, you might have been fortunate enough to see the magnificent American Queen. She is the largest river steamboat ever constructed with a capacity for 436 overnight guests. She and her smaller sister, the Delta Queen, took passengers on multiple-day cruises and it was a thrill even to catch them passing by. I was never among the fortunate ones onboard for a cruise, but it was always on my bucket list.

When the economy tanked in 2008, both ships were taken out of service. Several smaller paddlewheelers continued to work from various ports offering day trips, but, sadly, it was no longer possible to travel overnight on a steamship on the Mississippi. The Delta Queen was converted to a floating hotel and the American Queen was dry-docked. I missed them – I missed their graceful, romantic presence on the River and all that they represented. So, I was thrilled when I heard the news that the American Queen had acquired new owners, was being refurbished and would be re-launched in 2012. I drooled over the photos of the elegant high-ceilinged interiors, the stunning grand staircase and the sunlit white dining room. I ordered a brochure and filed it away under “someday” – I was completely engrossed in writing for the upcoming book.

A little later, still in the thick of writing, I realized that the American Queen has onboard presenters and lecturers for their guests – “Aha,” thought I, “that certainly seems like a good fit.” I mentioned it to my husband and said, “It’s not the time yet, but when the book is finished and the slide show ready, I will get in touch with them – and (not being cocky, but just sharing one of those feelings), I will be on that boat!” He smiled at me as he does and I went back to writing.

So, here’s the crazy, serendipitous part. Picture this – I’m writing about Day 89, nearing the end but knowing it is essential that I stay right here on this day and nowhere else. I’m head down at the computer and an email comes in from a River friend that I haven’t heard from since the journey. Missy Falbaum O’Neill and I met over breakfast at the lovely Cottage Plantation B&B in St. Francisville, Louisiana. (Here’s a link to that part of the journey http://gayleharper.wordpress.com/2010/11/15/80-and-onward/ )  Missy and I had hit it off swimmingly, had a great conversation and she had even helped me by sharing some of her down-River contacts.

Now, this is what she has to say in her email, “I have just moved to Memphis and I have taken the best job ever, as the Manager of Product Development for the American Queen Steamboat Company. I would love to talk to you about cruising with us and lecturing to our passengers.”

Seriously??  Amazing, Serendipity – downright, flat-out amazing!

So, just in case I need any additional motivation to keep working to bring all this together into a finished book, there is that shining gem among the possibilities ahead – that I will share Serendipity’s tales with a boatload of River-loving people aboard the sumptuous American Queen.

American Queen Steamboat

Have a look for yourself at americanqueensteamboatcompany.com

I’ve got work to do!             Gayle

Whohooo! I have now finished the writing and photo editing for the book about the 90-day road trip! If you’ve been with me since the start, you know that I was following the entire course of the Mississippi River from the headwaters in Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico – and you know that it was 90-days because that’s how long it takes a single drop of water to make that journey. So, I followed my imaginary raindrop, nicknamed Serendipity, and met more amazing people and had more once-in-a-lifetime experiences that I could ever have hoped for. In case you are just now joining us – and want to see the blog version of the trip, it is still available. Here is a link to the start of it       http://gayleharper.wordpress.com/2010/08/25/blessing-of-the-journey/.

So, for many months this blog has been silent as all of my energy went into writing the book and editing the thousands of photos – and now it is done!!! Interestingly, people have said things like, “It took tremendous discipline to stay with it as you have.” Thankfully, it didn’t. I’ve never been especially good at making myself do things because I thought I should. This was always what I wanted to be doing – and, to my surprise, it was nearly (but not quite) as much fun as was the traveling!

Now, the tale is told in a series of vignettes. Each one is like a short story, complete with its photos, and each is unique in its mood, personality and focus. I never knew where it would go when I began – some are about a person I met, or an experience, or some unique bit of history or something that was stirred in me by any of those things. They are as free-flowing as the journey itself.

So what next, you ask? Good question! For the writing to be truly alive, it meant that my attention needed to stay fully on the day being written about and not gawking around or looking ahead. The result of that is that, right now, I feel like a little gopher just sticking my head up from my hole and looking around at an entirely unfamiliar landscape. Although, at the moment, I haven’t a clue which way to head first, I do know, happily, that whatever my next step is will be made clear when it’s time to take it. I feel incredibly fortunate that there are some good options before me in terms of publishing and, because there is so much that I don’t know at this point, I will try to learn before I leap.

Now that I am open to them, it seems that ideas and possibilities are blossoming like the spring and it’s pretty exhilarating! There are a gazillion decisions to be made and steps to be taken before there is an actual book in anyone’s hands, but for now I want to share this news of our progress. I will keep you informed of the process and I may ask for your input on a few decisions as we go. This project has, from the beginning, been a shared experience and as always, I thank you for being part of it!

For now, this is, I believe, the image that will appear on the cover.

With love,  Gayle and Serendipity

It’s been a while since “Surrendering to Serendipity” appeared in your mailbox. It’s time to give you a progress report!

Occasionally there is a moment in life that on the surface seems ordinary, but beneath that is the feeling that every cell in your body has come to full attention because something really extraordinary is actually going on. I had one of those moments when I first learned that it would take 90 days for a single drop of water to travel the entire Mississippi River from the headwaters in Minnesota to the Gulf of Mexico. Before I had taken another breath, I knew I would be embarking on the road trip of a lifetime alongside America’s greatest River, keeping pace with an imaginary raindrop.

From that moment onward, this project has created itself and I have simply participated – and felt like the luckiest person I know to be doing so. I watched as plans for the 90-day journey effortlessly (magically, really) came together. Emails were sent to Chambers of Commence in River communities announcing the journey and before I knew it I had more invitations and offers of lodging than I had available nights. I plotted my stays to keep pace with our raindrop, loaded my car and left in August of 2010. For the next 3 months I wandered the Mississippi Great River Road and a gazillion side roads all around it. Nothing was planned except my lodging and every day – every moment really, I was wide open to whatever Serendipity had in store – and it was amazing! Many of you traveled with me every step and read about the people I met who opened their hearts and shared their lives with us and about the days filled with experiences that one could never plan. The Mississippi is America’s River and this was a journey through the heart of America in every way.

Since I came home, the magic has continued. Life seems to have organized itself so that I can spend most of my time writing the book and selecting the photographs and the perfect people to help with this part of the project have shown up at the perfect time. The way it is being written is in a series of individual vignettes – each one is somewhat self-contained and tells the story in words and photos of an experience, a day, a place or a person. Each vignette is unique, almost like a short story, and they string together to tell the whole story. My job seems to be just to show up at the computer and see what wants to be said – I never know where it is going until it takes me there.

What has astounded me about this is just how much fun it is! The details and feelings of every day come so fully alive as I write, it is honestly almost as much fun as the traveling was. My friends watch in disbelief at how content I am to stay home and keep working on this. They had gotten so accustomed to me traveling that the most usual question wasn’t “How are you?” but rather “Where are you off to next?”

It feels as if there is a muse sitting atop my computer monitor who simply waits. She isn’t impatient or critical, but neither can she be influenced or persuaded to fudge even a teeny bit. If there remains one awkward phrase or weary adjective, she just waits. Finally, when every last tweak has been accomplished and she is satisfied, I get a great big “YES!” I usually have a big belly laugh at that point, then share it with a couple of “readers” and that vignette is wrapped up!

So, I am really happy to tell you that I have just passed the 2/3^rd mark!! I just finished writing about Day 60!! That puts me having just left New Madrid, Missouri and rolling next into Tiptonville, Tennessee. The changes in geography, cultures, lifestyles, accents and foods  have already been enormous. “Northern” was left behind long ago and “Midwestern” has now given way to “Southern” – and there is so much more to come!

So I’ll get back to work now. I wanted you to know how it’s coming and to thank you again for being a part of it. It has always been a shared experience and even if nothing else ever came of it, the connections and friendships that have been made in the process are a treasure! I’ll keep you informed as we move along!

As a River friend taught me to say, “See you downriver!”

Love, Gayle

On May 2nd, the U. S. Army Corps of Engineers detonated 250 tons of explosives inside the Bird’s Point Levee at three separate locations. The act, which was part of a plan to save the city of Cairo, Illinois, and other downriver communities, allowed a torrent of Mississippi water to roar in at a rate of 550,000 cubic feet per second. As a result, nearly 100 homes, 130,000 acres of farm land and countless silos and barns were immediately destroyed. I toured the area by boat and plane in May and was overwhelmed by the extent of devastation. Click back to the posts in May and June to see some of those photos and stories.

Since then, there have been myriad studies, meetings and evaluations, but very little actual help. People whose homes and farms were destroyed are still without answers or assistance. They are still crammed into the homes of relatives or friends, unsure of any options for their future. These are resilient and independent people; many are the 6th generation of their family to farm this land. They are pragmatic about living near the River; they accept it will flood occasionally and some crops will be lost. They even accept that some homes may be flooded and the messy goo will need to be cleaned up. But, the force of the water released by these blasts is unprecedented. It tore apart the homes and barns and crushed the silos like paper cups. It gouged networks of ravines in former cornfields, leaving holes as deep as 60 feet in some. It washed away miles of roads and bridges. The African American community of Pinhook (in the post of May 29) is a ghost town. One couple is staying on their second floor; the rest of the homes lie around them in uninhabitable ruins.

Not only has financial assistance to those affected come only in dribbles, far below anyone’s estimate of the damage, but the Corps of Engineers has now made a decision which projects a bleak future for everyone. The Bird’s Point Levee, they have decided, will only be rebuilt to an “interim” level, which is 10.5 feet lower than when it was destroyed. Since the River has exceeded that level in 12 of the past 20 years, it seems only a question of when, not if that lower levee will be overtopped, inundating the area again.

After my own research, I do understand that these are incredibly complex decisions. The Corps must take into consideration the interests of many different entities. We all know that funding is tight and that nature has given the Corps plenty to do this year. Still, stopping the levee rebuilding more than ten feet below the previous level seems a short-sighted and dangerous act and no one, not even the Corps, seems to be saying that it can prevent disaster.

As I visited downriver communities after the flood, people there expressed their appreciation for the sacrifice required of Mississippi County. They did feel it made a difference. The release of all that water into Mississippi County, they said, relieved the pressure on their levees and helped minimize the damage. Does it not seem these folks have sacrificed enough? Is it not time to say thank you and help them pick up the pieces of their lives??

A documentary film was premiered yesterday in East Prairie, Missouri, telling the story of the devastation and the ongoing struggle of the people there. It has just now been made available online. Please take a moment to see it – just click this link www.disasteratbirdspoint.com   Click the “Watch the Video” button and then, if you are moved to do so, add your voice to those calling for the Corps of Engineers to help the people of Mississippi County, fix what they broke and fully restore the levee. You can easily help in whatever way you choose by using the buttons available on this site.

The events of our world pass quickly these days – and if you follow much news, there seems to be a disaster somewhere every week, making the flood of 2011 old news. In Mississippi County, although the water has receded and folks continue to do what they can to rebuild their lives, a quiet struggle continues without much notice or much help. The flood was a natural event, but the magnitude of the destruction was the result of decisions made by the Corps of Engineers. It’s too late to affect those decisions, but it is exactly the right time to affect current ones. Every voice matters. Thanks for listening – Gayle

Below – Mississippi County farmer Sam Barker surveying his flooded farm.

Some people have forwarded a copy of their message to me and, I am pleased to say, a copy of a quick email response from Mr. Pogue. While the answers do not contain any information regarding when, or if the work might begin, they are individually written to each person, not a form response. This seems to say that at least the Corps is reading the messages and getting a sense that people are aware of this situation, watching and waiting to see what transpires.

In other very encouraging news – the Governor of Missouri has sent a letter to the Corps of Engineers asking that they “expedite review and processing of the plan to the fullest extent possible to allow farming and the region’s recovery to begin.” ALSO – he has said “his administration is prepared to commit the resources necessary to construct a temporary levee at Birds Point as soon as the Corps approves the plan.” Governor Nixon said, “These farmers already have missed a significant portion of this year’s growing season, and they need to have their crops in the ground as soon as possible.”    Thank you, Governor Nixon!

On behalf of the people of Mississippi County, thank you to everyone who read and responded or plans to do so! The growing season is waning every day this is delayed. We know the Corps is listening now – thank you for helping!  

Here again is the contact information for the Corps of Engineers:

U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

Mississippi Valley Division

Memphis District

Jim Pogue, Public Affairs Chief

Phone 901-544-4109

Email james.t.pogue@usace.army.mil

Web: www.mdv.usace.army.mil

Postal address: 167 North Main Street, B202

                            Memphis,TN38103-1894

Mississippi County, Missouri, is a place where many people’s roots go very deep. Unlike some agricultural communities where family farms have succumbed to wealthy corporations, many of the farmers here are working land that has been in their family for three or four generations. My friends Sam and Silvey Barker grew up in this county on land that was first cleared by their respective grandparents, long before the current system of levees and spillways existed.

As I sit with them in the Depot Café in the heart of the small town of East Prairie, it seems everyone knows everyone. It gets noisy – people shove tables together to join groups and move from table to table greeting one another. Someone returns from a nearby town with his pickup loaded with flats of fresh-picked strawberries. They looked good, so he brought plenty to share. A friend of Silvey’s granddaughter runs over to give a hug and someone comes by with a report of an ailing neighbor.

The county’s namesake and its eastern border is the Mississippi River. It is part of the rhythm of life here that the River rises and falls. Farming is always a gamble – nature is capricious and uncontrollable. Some years, all the right conditions come together to produce a good crop and the market offers a good price. In others, there may be extreme heat or drought or an enormous migrating flock of snow geese may stop to feed on fields of tender, young wheat, or there may be a flood. “People feel they are a part of the natural world here,” Silvey tells me, “and for the most part, we flow with what happens and just keep going.”

The spring of 2011 started out looking fortuitous – the rains came at the right time and in April the fields were golden with wheat just starting to “head out.” Across the upper Midwest, however, deep snow pack left by record-setting blizzards was beginning to melt, swelling creeks and rivers that flow into the Mississippi. At the same time, torrential rainstorms pelted much of the River’s enormous drainage basin, which includes 41% of the land mass of the continental U.S.  Communities along the upper Mississippi watched their levees anxiously and in many cases, added height with layers of sandbags. As the growing bulge of water crested and passed by without overtopping the levees, people along the upper River breathed a sigh of relief.

Meanwhile, the Ohio River continued to rise, cresting in many places at levels exceeding records set in the flood of 1937. Even in average conditions, the Ohio contributes more water than any other tributary. In fact, at the point of confluence at Cairo, Illinois, the Ohio is larger by volume than the Mississippi. Here is an aerial shot I took a few years ago of the confluence under normal conditions.

In late April, as both rivers steadily rose and more rain loomed in the forecast, concern grew over the levees’ ability to withstand such unprecedented pressure. The town of Cairo was evacuated and the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers considered an option last undertaken in 1937; to blow up the levee at Bird’s Point in the northern portion of Mississippi County.

The pragmatic farmers had already understood that the River would claim some crops and likely threaten some homes this year, but the level of destruction that would occur if the levee was intentionally breached far exceeded that. There was controversy and efforts to stop the action, but eventually the decision was made and 250 tons of explosives were loaded into the levee.

On the night of May 2^nd, Sam and Silvey felt the ground pitch and roll as the horrendous force of the blast shook their home in East Prairie, some thirty miles away. Water roared through the resulting gap in the levee at 550,000 cubic feet per second and quickly flooded nearly 100 homes and 130,000 acres of crop land, including 2,000 acres farmed by Sam and Silvey. When I toured by air and by boat nearly two weeks later, I was astounded at the massive expanse of water. Here is an aerial shot at that time.

As the enormous wall of water moved downstream, levees were built up and constantly patrolled to watch for “sand boils” – evidence of water coming under the levee. The Corps decided to open the floodgates of the Bonnet Carre and Morganza spillways in Louisiana to release more water from the River. Flooding did occur on the Mississippi and as water backed up into its tributaries, but levees held and the major catastrophes that had been feared did not occur.

I visited Mississippi County again last week and found the water receding, the land reappearing and people surveying the damage. For the people of the tiny community of Pinhook, there is nothing to be done but tear down and burn what is left of their homes. I walked the streets I had traveled by boat on my previous visit. It’s a ghost town of deserted, snake-infested, destruction. The layer of silt left on the ground cracked in the heat and the air reeked with the stench of rotting vegetation, carpets and furniture.

At the Depot Café, photos spread on the counter show the deep gullies and crevasses left by the force of the water, leaving some farm fields looking like the Badlands. While some farmers are thankful to find only a layer of silt, others find piles of sand or pools as deep as 40 feet known as “blue holes.” Sam was trying to burn the thick mat of ruined wheat off the one field that had drained enough, but it was still too wet. It’s clear that most of their land will not drain in time to plant another crop this year.

The news from Louisiana is that the gates of the Bonnet Carre and Morganza spillways are now being closed as water levels drop. The gaping hole in the levee at Mississippi County, however, remains – and questions about its repair go unanswered. Those farmers who can replant are unsure if they should – the land is now vulnerable to flooding with even the slightest rise in the River. People anxious to put their lives back together are in limbo, waiting for some word.

The Corps of Engineers held a meeting in East Prairie on June 2^nd, one month to the day after the levee was breached. The room was packed with residents and farmers hoping for answers to their questions, for a timeline for rebuilding the levee – for information that would let them move forward. The official answer was only, “We are here to tell you how to file a claim. No other questions will be discussed.”

When I spoke with Kevin Mainord, the Mayor of East Prairie on June 10th, he said the latest official word is that the Corps plans to “do a study of the entire lower Mississippi River.” The study will take 90 days to complete; after that they will evaluate all the work that needs to be done and assign priorities to projects.    Seriously?!!

I have read and heard accolades to the Corps for making “tough decisions in a timely manner” that prevented mass destruction all along the lower Mississippi. It is even being said that the handling of this potential crisis has restored the faith and credibility in the Corps that was lost during the Katrina fiasco. People downriver have told me they appreciate the sacrifice made by the people of Mississippi County– they feel certain their community and many others would have suffered greatly had this action not been taken.

At the time the decision was made, Major General Michael Walsh, Commander of the Mississippi Valley Division, was quoted as saying, “I’ve known many of the people who have lived and worked in the floodway for the past three years. I consider them friends, and certainly making the decision to put this in operation was a difficult decision.” Col. Vernie Reichling, Jr., commander of the Memphis District of the Army Corps was quoted as saying that while the blast was successful, it was also “historic as well as tragic.”

It seems to me that while that decision may well have been difficult, the current one should be very easy. Make it right! Tell the people of Mississippi County when the levee will be repaired, get it done and help them get on with their lives. What could be the dilemma here? If, in fact, the people of Mississippi County are the ones who were tapped to have their homes and livelihoods destroyed for the benefit of others, then it is time to thank them for their sacrifice, help them restore their lives and fix the levee as soon as possible! The potential, yet fragile, opportunity to restore the damaged reputation of the Corps is hanging in the balance here. These are resilient, self-reliant people who are accustomed to hard work. They will do all they can for themselves. It is past time to let them get started!

I found a video clip of an AP interview with Mississippi County farmer Ray Presson, standing on the edge of his flooded field. He says, without anger or resentment, “…we know that other folks up and down the River are being impacted and we know a decision had to be made…” Then, as the interviewer asks him about his emotions after putting his “blood and sweat” into the land, the farmer struggles to keep his composure, but crumples and cries on camera. The link to this is below.

If you missed it, scroll down to my post of May 29 – look at the eyes and listen to the words of George Williams, whose home of 55 years in Pinhook was destroyed.

Then, if you feel moved to do so, contact the Corps and let them know that there are many of us watching and waiting for them to do the right thing.

Here is their contact information:

U.S.Army Corps of Engineers, Mississippi Valley Division, Memphis District                       Jim Pogue, Public Affairs Chief                                                                                                Phone 901-544-4109                                                                                                                 Email  james.t.pogue@usace.army.mil

Postal address: 167 North Main Street, B202, Memphis,TN 38103-1894

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HQ0WTSiXHM  interview with farmer

Thank you for caring!   Gayle

Other stories are simple and luminous – they just shine up out of the mud and mess and can be shared with you just as they appeared to me. Such is the story of Etta and Joe Hughes of Morehouse, Missouri.

No one ever dreamed Morehouse would flood. It’s not in the floodplain and nearly 30 miles from the Mississippi River, but these are extraordinary times. The Mississippi was so gorged with water, its tributaries and drainage systems so backed up that one more torrential rain was too much. Water rose quickly into many of the town’s nearly 500 homes, and there was very little time to salvage belongings.

Etta had gotten the word that flooding was possible, so she hurried to the store for rubber boots. By the time she returned, the road was too flooded to drive home. She and Joe waded out with just what they could carry. “It’s a blessing it happened like that,” she says with a smile, “otherwise we wouldn’t have a car now.”

For 55 years, the small frame house has been home. Countless hours have been spent on the front screened porch with each other, their three children and grandchildren. When the water receded, it was clear that virtually none of their accumulated belongings could be salvaged. “Except my stainless steel pots,” Etta says defiantly, pointing to a pile in the front yard. “I’m gonna scrub and scrub and then bleach the fire out of ‘em!” She needs them, she tells me, because every Saturday night their three kids and all the grandkids, “even the teenagers”come for dinner, to play cards or games, visit and catch up.

Joe smiles and nods and wraps his arm around Etta. “Joe had brain surgery and almost died,” she tells me, “so he has a good mind but a hard time finding his words.” “I have a sixth grade education and Joe has none,” she says as Joe nods, “but, we worked hard and have a beautiful family and a beautiful life.”

A friend has loaned them a camper trailer and their son has put them up in a motel when they need a shower. There is a complex of subsidized senior citizen housing not far away and they have added their names to the list there. FEMA will help in the meantime. “It’s all OK,” she says with a brightness that is not even a tiny bit forced. “We don’t need all this stuff. I learned long ago to make do. We have each other and we have our family. We’ll go right on getting together Saturday nights wherever we are!”

Joe nods, smiles and gives her a squeeze. The floodwater took a lot from the Hughes family, but not what really matters. Shine on, Etta and Joe! 

“Mr. George – I’ve brought you company!” announces my friend, Silvey, as we walk into the school bus barn. “Well, get on in here!” a voice calls from beneath a school bus. A tall, smiling man slides out, wipes the grease from his hands and welcomes me with a deep throaty chuckle. Probably everyone in East Prairie, Missouri, knows George Williams – he has been driving the local school bus since 1962. His warm handshake and direct gaze give me an immediate image of several generations of students holding both respect and affection for this gentle, strong man.

We sit on metal folding chairs in a corner of the bus barn and Silvey tells him about my upcoming book and my interest in hearing about his life in Pinhook, Missouri. His smile fades, he shakes his head sadly and says, “Tell you the truth, Miss Silvey, I’m real glad my wife ain’t alive to see what happened to our home. I believe it’d be too much for her.” He is quiet a moment as he looks down and sighs deeply. I feel his weariness as he says again, “I sure ‘nuf am glad she ain’t here to see her house like this.”

“Mr. George” as he is known, has lived in Pinhook for 58 years. There have been three or four lesser floods over those years, but nothing like this one. This time the water went up to his roof and the house will have to be torn down. He won’t go back, he says, “There ain’t nothin’ there to go back to.”

I’m piecing together the history of Pinhook, Missouri, and by the time it goes into the book, I’ll have a more complete picture. So far, I am told the community was created as a result of the sharecropper’s revolt of 1939. In recognition of and reparation for the bad treatment received, land was made available to the Christian Liberty Association. African Americans, who were otherwise prohibited from owning land at that time, could obtain 40 acre plots through that organization. Farms and homesteads were created and the community of Pinhook was born.

Pinhook thrived for a time – during the 1950s and 60s, it was home to as many as 250 people. In the years since then, however, things got tougher and much of the land was sold off as families struggled to support themselves. It’s always been a tight-knit community where people take care of each other. “Most everybody’s family in some way or ‘nother,” he says, smiling again.

“We raised our own nine kids there,” he tells me, “plus ten others that needed a home.” They all had to move away, though, in order to find jobs. When the floodwaters came this spring, Pinhook had dwindled to just 18 families. Now those families are all staying with relatives and friends, hoping to figure out what to do “before they wear out their welcome.” No one he knows plans to go back. “Pinhook,” he says, “is history.”

I know as I leave Mr. George that I will likely see his flooded house before he will. I am scheduled to tour the area by air and by boat later today. My words of empathy and comfort seem to me inadequate for his loss, but his warm smile is back as we say goodbye and I feel his resilience and goodness.

My pilot knows which house belongs to Mr. George and points it out, half-submerged and surrounded by a vast sea of murky water. Even from here, I can tell it sits at the end of a street of well-tended homes.

The closer and more heart-wrenching view of Pinhook, however, is from the boat. A street sign barely extends above the water.

Houses are torn apart by the powerful current and waves created by the wind. I know that under the carport Mr. George’s “old but good” 1979 Dodge Diplomat lies submerged; he couldn’t drive it out because the water came up quicker than expected.

Water rushes through Mr. George’s house and an entire section of wall bobs loosely with the waves. Vertical blinds wobble with the current rushing through the shattered picture window. All the drapes and blinds are drawn shut and I imagine the final moments of closing the house up, locking the door and hoping against hope. The silence feels hollow and dead, as if the water has washed away even the echoes of those who lived here. There is not even a bird call – nothing but the putter of our boat motor as we ride the choppy water a dozen feet above the street.

Pinhook Day would have been this weekend. Nearly everyone who ever lived at Pinhook came home over Memorial Day weekend. Every house would have been bursting with people gathered for noisy reunion picnics filled with laughter, conversation, music and good food. To all of you who would have been there today, my heart goes out to you.

The resilience and goodness I saw in Mr. George Williams is obvious in his family. A few of his children and grandchildren came together to create a song, dedicated to all people affected by the flood of 2011. In it they sing of their lost childhood home, but also of the home they hold in their hearts, wherever they are. It’s a celebration, they say, of the love they grew up with that can never be washed away. Here is a link to their beautiful tribute www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjRj1ULvE7k

 In love and peace,

 Gayle

Carolyn welcomed me and brought a chair so I could sit beside her bed, one in a row against the wall. Although about 50 people were staying in the shelter at its peak, most have now moved in with family and friends. Only about a dozen remain. She was gentle, soft-spoken and friendly as she told me there had not been time to gather any of their belongings – only their two dogs.

Carolyn has diabetes and neuropathy that prevents her from standing on her feet very long, so cannot work. Her husband works as a cart gatherer at WalMart. “We are very lucky,” she told me, “my husband only had to take two days off of work during all this. We won’t be able to live in our house anymore, but we have signed up for help from FEMA.” She introduced me to her dog, Sissybell, who she said is part  “Shee-a-it-zu”  “I don’t want to say it the other way because I don’t like to say that word,” she said with an embarrassed smile.

“Everyone here has been so kind,” she said. She hopes to stay at the shelter until their housing allowance comes through from FEMA and they can find another place, but she said, “I know God will help us when we need it – He always does.”

Before I left home, I had lunch with my dear friend, Norma Jeanne, who is now in her 87th year. She’s a lively, joyful little pixie with an enormous, loving heart. Norma Jeanne lives on a fixed income and isn’t wealthy, but when I told her about my upcoming trip to the flooded area, she pulled out a $20 bill and asked me to give it to someone that needed it. As I sat with Carolyn, I knew this was the right person. I told her about Norma Jeanne, gave her the bill and asked her to remember my friend in her prayers. Carolyn was very touched and appreciative and repeated Norma Jeanne’s name to be certain of it.

 Sometimes it’s the “small” things that feel the biggest.