As I watch news coverage of flooding in North and South Dakota, I can’t help but think about the times I – a mostly fearless TV reporter - took the nauseating ride in a 2-or-4-seat plane to fly over flooded farm fields and communities bracing for the worst.
Those stories were among the most memorable of my T.V. career for a variety of reasons.
First, growing up in South Dakota, there’s something eerie about seeing nothing but water beneath you when common sense reminds you that, other than a few slow-flowing creeks and streams and one big river in the middle of the state, South Dakota is supposed to be made up only of rich and abundant farmland.
Tell that to Mother Nature.
Second, it’s hard to forget the interviews I conducted with tearful homeowners or landowners as they helplessly watched their family memories and livelihoods be swallowed up by the water.
I remember thinking once, after interviewing an elderly lady near Waubay, that it’s so ironic that water has left her homeless, yet all she could do was cry … with each teardrop that fell onto her flooded property adding more “water” to her troubles.
I watched prison inmates and troubled teens help pay their debt to society by filling sandbags right alongside law-abiding citizens … who, for the time being, viewed these men and boys in bright orange suits to be “saviors” instead of “criminals.”
And then, I remember feeling an enormous amount of guilt, knowing that I had a story to get on the news and I couldn’t stay to help in their valiant efforts to save what they could.
My own personal experience with flooding is thankfully limited. When I was about 10 or 12, the dam near my dad’s farm broke under the pressure of flooding upstream.
We had just enough warning to open the gates on the hog confinement and chase 300, or so, pigs to the top of a nearby hill. It was chaos, to say the least. I remember the helpless feeling – knowing that the farm my parents had worked so hard to build from scratch was in jeopardy of being lost.
Other than wondering how we might survive, I don’t remember much. I don’t remember how in the world we got those pigs back in their pens once the water receded.
My other experience is more laughable today than it was while it was happening. My wonderful husband and a plumber installed a dishwasher in our first house during a kitchen remodel project. They needed to tie it into the water lines. Somehow the valve on the line broke off and ice-cold water shot from the line like a geyser.
The ridiculously cold water temperature stunned the guys to the point that they were essentially unable to respond.
Somehow, the line was shut off and we were left with an indoor pool – an unexpected addition to remodeling project.
As we head into the summer season, it is important for us all to remember that water is a valuable resource with a lot of power.
It can make life miserable when we don’t have enough … and when we have too much.