A flood of compassion

Let it rain, let it rain, let your love rain down on me.

My editor is not going to like this [Editor's note: Not true] , in which case, you may never be granted the opportunity to read these words, but I think I can pull it off well enough to satisfy his libertarian urges.

Last month it rained in my county. And it rained some more. Then it rained some more. Then some more. And then finally Mother Nature got up on her hind legs and really whapped us with the super-soaker. One of the benefits to living in an area blessed with so many rivers and streams is the natural beauty of the area. Fishing, boating, just plain watching the rivers roll. On the downside, we have a lot of water to begin with. When nature decides to triple that amount, well, you get the idea. Flooding on a scale never before seen in this region. While it's nowhere near the devastation heaped on the south by Katrina, it was more than we could handle here.

Watching the neighborhood you grew up in underwater is a surreal feeling. So much needs to be done and as soon as possible. Yet there isn't really anything to do, other than to start collecting two of every species (I choose me and Jennifer Love Hewit!). There were mass evacuations, national guard was called out to ferry people over the water in helicopters. Governor of the state had his live press conference canceled while in progress because the rivers he was using for a dramatic background decided it didn't like being used for cheap political blather, and chased him out.

On a side note, but well related to this topic, I live in a small village in upstate New York. Maybe 15,000 - 20,000 residents. So we have village government, a town government, and a county government as well as state and federal. There's been a lot of talk over the years about dissolving some of the levels, merging with others, the common stuff. Just a week earlier a large group stormed the village meeting and demanded to have their concerns put on the record, as well as the Trustee's position on it. One of the main points they had was we have a full time, paid fire department which only made about 51 calls last year. Let me tell you, they made up for it that week. I can't imagine how much worse it would be if we didn't have them. They used the trucks to block off flooded roads, and they pumped out basements for weeks following as the water slowly receded.

The sanitation workers alone deserve congressional medals of honor. They trucked out thousands of tons of garbage and debris. It must have nearly broken their backs. The police department was everywhere they were needed, and even though I know several of them were flooded out themselves, they stayed on the job anyway.

The flooding closed a hospital on low-lying ground forcing the evacuation of 90 patients to other hospitals. I live near one of the other hospitals and heard the sirens and the medivac copters as they accomplished the feat at a clip of one patient every two minutes. The sirens and helicopters continued all day and all night for three days. These emergency service people performed an unbelievable job, they have all our gratitude.

The reason I mention all this is because I learned a lot of things that week and the following days. Government isn't just a nameless, faceless bureaucracy we all claim they are. At the local level, they are just regular citizens, like you and me. One town closer to the river (I wasn't affected, I live on high ground) was 90% underwater. The Town Supervisor lost her home, yet she worked nonstop for days on end, organizing emergency services, working with the county and the state to help her neighbors. Notice I didn't say constituents? Because when you complain about garbage not being picked up you are a constituent. When everything you own is gone, and you are desperate for help - or in a position to offer help - you are a neighbor.

The local paper began a new section in the paper called "Heroes of the flood" where the community could share stories about the good things that happened. And there was no shortage. I read one letter about a pastor at a church. A house on the other side of the river blew up, and rattled the church and it's school so badly they evacuated the school. Minutes after the explosion, he received a call from the gentleman who had just lost everything he ever owned. The gentleman called to say he was okay, and wanted to know if the children at the church needed help getting out. Now that's what I call hero.

Now here's the money line that either makes or breaks my editor's ban on pro-government blog entries: all the help, the aid, the evacuations, all the clean up, the donations, the evacuation centers, it really wasn't about government. It was about we the people helping each other in time of great need. Even if there was no government, even if Ray Nagin were my mayor instead of the mayor of New Orleans, we the people didn't need them. I have no doubt that if Eric wasn't on the police force (traffic division), I know he'd still have been out there helping those in need. If we had no fire department, I have no doubt the fireman would still have been out there doing their best. Instead of large pump trucks, they'd have gone door to door offering help with portable sump pumps. How do I know this? My brother called me as the water began to rise in his basement to see if I had a pump he could borrow, Home Depot was out. I didn't. By the time I got over to his house a few hours later, he had three that people had loaned him. And he managed to keep the water level to a few inches in his basement.

Politics is a great divider, pitting person against person, party against party, and state against state. But in the end, that divisiveness is not strong enough to pit neighbor against neighbor. Need and compassion is stronger, I know, I've seen it first hand. I'm going to remember that the next time a political debate heats up to the point where I think there is no common ground left. Because I know for a fact, there is!