Blogs
June 11, 2008
A help-blog for the soggy Hoosier heartland.....
I wasn't sure how I would do this, it's not really band related, but since I was involved in the drama that unfolded last weekend in southern Indiana as were many of our family-friends-fans, I guess I'll just write a little and see what comes out of it. Southern Indiana, a place where three of the members of Absentstar grew up had more than a bit of flooding last weekend. It's probably better described as a deluge of historic proportions. And I experienced it. I happened to be staying in north east Monroe county (so remote that I don't think it's on the map) with some family. We sat on the porch that night, visiting, and watched as the storm rolled in and engulfed the visible area. Then the rain rain rain came down down down with an intensity that I hadn't seen in a long time, nor been warned to expect. Not sure what the good folks at the weather channel were doing. Underneath the sound of thunder and pelting rain/hail, you could hear the faint and ominous wail of the county's tornado warning sirens. I started running around the house gathering up two of everything. The storm was intense, and I likened it to someone standing in the room flicking the light switch on and off while simultaneously spraying me in the face with a hose. It's rained extremely hard, like hurricane force from 7PM to 8AM. We were way up on a hill above the White River, and so we really caught the blunt end of the storm surge. The next morning we came out to discover three things. 1.) the power was out 2.) the river was rising fast, spilling it's banks and we'd need to evacuate quickly 3.) the rain had washed away our only escape route Seriously, it looked like an Airforce strike team of F-35 fighters had bombed the side of the hill all night, and we'd just assumed it was thunder and lightening. Pictures don't really do the scene justice. No four wheel drive truck or ATV could get through there. We thought maybe we could drive across the hilltop field and take the neighbors driveway, but theirs was even worse. Where once there had been a steep gravel lane, now there was just a 20 foot tall cliff with a water fall cascading over the side. With the power out, our only source of news was a couple of locals who happened to be riding by on their 4-wheelers. They said that Paragon and Martinville (two nearby towns) were underwater and being evacuated, and that all roads north to Indianapolis were closed. CLOSED? I'd never heard of anything like that before. Ever. Period. We spent the whole day hauling big rocks and stone (whatever we could find) down the hill by hand and with a tractor and dumping them into the void. All day long helicoptors and airplanes were flying over, surveying the damage and looking for people that needed evacuation. We'd not yet giving up hope of driving out, so we didn't bother signaling them, but we were keeping a watchful eye on the White River, which typically rolled along lazily about 200 yards away, but now was less than 5 feet from us. It was like a lake shore, and getting higher. There used to be an old rail road bridge that crossed there, but now just the limestone pillars remained, and we watched as stone by stone, the river swallowed it up. Time was of the essence and we worked faster, stacking stone, and shoveling bucket after bucket of sand. The work of rebuilding started around 10AM, and by 5PM it was stable enough for us to get out. I bet we moved 14 tons of material. The news we'd received via cell phone was grim and verified that southern Indiana was infact a soggy flooded mess. The town of Columbus was closed, bridges had collapsed, and they were telling people to stay away. Paragon was just gone. Martinsville was a lake. I feared for the little hamlets like Medora and Brownstown in Jackson County. We got out safe and sound, but all night we watched the news and reflected on the great flood of 2008. When I was little, my grandfather would tell stories about the 100 Year Flood of 1913 that literally gulped the bottom of the state. He would take me down to a place near Shoals where there was an exposed rock wall, where people had brought their row boats during the flood and chiseled their names and dates into the side, like grafitti "Bob Mason - 1913 Flood" into the rock. It was hard to picture then, but now I identify completely. I drove back to Chicago on Sunday, through the devastation in Martinsville after the northbound road had been re-opened. Families were already hard at work, the ones that could get back in, cleaning and putting their homes in order. There was not power, and the ambient air temperature was in the mid-90s. It's something you typically witness in a South American disaster report on CNN. Really a scene from the third world. No water to drink and no where to pick up a bottle of it. My point in writing all of this is that the good residents of Southern Indiana could use a helping hand if you have one. I'll be honest, the area that was affected didn't really need any more hard times. There are a lot of people down there that didn't have much to begin with, and whatever they did have was washed away. They've also been hit with some pretty severe tornado's recently too, and could probably just use some positive vibes in general. Mostly they are simple families, and they will go about their business, putting things back in order the way they do, and won't ask for help. That's how Hoosiers are, resilient. But sometimes everybody could use a hand. If you want to help, the best way is probably to contact that Indiana Red Cross at 1-866-620-0585. They are coordinating the relief. Hope you have a great day. Heath.absentstarposted by Derek Ingersoll on 6/11/2008 4:19:43 AM