After the Flood
The Wisdom of the Hummingbird
Waiting, and hoping for the best
by Maria Browning
May 7, 2010 As rain invaded my basement on the second day of the deluge, I struggled to open a long-stuck garage door that would (maybe, I hoped) let some of the rising water escape. For the next three hours I pushed a big broom through the surf, trying to get the tide to flow out faster than it was flowing in, and rubbing my hands sore in the process. All of this labor was absolutely futile. The sky was still spewing water like a fire hose.
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
Runoff
The water had a place to get to, and it was in a hurry
by Lyda Phillips
May 7, 2010 People emerged in ones and twos and threes, with dogs and without, all looking pale and both shell-shocked and excited. The river now covered the ball field. A dead woodchuck floated belly-up among the bobbing plastic bottles. Canada geese swam through the debris, unperturbed.
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
All Rooms River View
Watching the waters rise in Bellevue
by Faye Jones
May 7, 2010 It's the strangest thing to watch televised images of people carrying other folks out in boats and know it's happening only a few blocks away. I could hear the helicopter broadcasting the pictures I was seeing. Looking at the aerial shot of Bellevue, it was hard to believe anything was left of our little town. It felt wrong to be sitting there watching it, to be observing the wreckage of my neighbors' lives.
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
Wet Paint
The canvasses weren't even dry when the water began to rise
by Wayne Christeson
May 7, 2010 During the months before the storm, our Leiper's Fork neighbor Rachael McCampbell, an artist, was working in her home studio on a commission for the Parthenon in Nashville: a dozen or more large canvasses depicting the lives of women in Greek mythology. It was going to be an impressive show.
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
Little House in the Rainy Woods
When the power goes out, the real fun begins
by Liz Garrigan
May 7, 2010 My husband was off helping to coordinate city relief efforts. I was on my own, and it was too early to cope by uncorking a bottle, even by the permissive standards of our household. The sky was dark except for frequent flashes of lightning, but we had to get the hell out of the house.
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
It Was a Dark and Stormy Night
Sometimes a drama queen is worse than the storm
by Anne Delana Reeves
May 7, 2010 Thirteen miles from my exit, the bottom fell out of the sky. The road seemed to disappear; drainage pipes spewed like muddy geysers. My sister called my cell phone in a panic, unable to reach our mother. "What about her cell phone?" I asked. "She's forgotten how to use it," she snapped. "I'm heading over."
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
Guitar Town
Facing what it means to lose the instrument of your dreams
by Paul V. Griffith
May 7, 2010 Whether it's a sixty-dollar pawnshop mutt or a purebred collectible, for musicians, a guitar is like a pet. They chose it. It's theirs. It fits their lap; it fits their life. They keep it because it comforts them, and—as much as is possible for an inanimate object—they love it.
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
Survivor's Guilt
What if the worst natural disaster of your lifetime strikes, and you don't even get a good story out of it?
by Susannah Felts
May 7, 2010 Fortunate. Lucky. How many times have I said these words in the last week? How many times have I felt them as I clicked through photos of the devastation, feeling like a rubbernecker on the highway?
Published Friday, 7 May 2010
