Floods have been in the news a lot, locally in our Diocese as well as internationally, especially in Nepal and Tibet. Countless people both here and around the world need our help. I want to reflect on these situations and share my own personal flood story for a moment.
As Chancellor of the Diocese, one of my responsibilities is serving as a member of the Diocesan Disaster Response Team here, working closely with other members of our dedicated staff. I also want to ask everyone reading this to consider how to help those suffering because of the flooding.
The recent news takes me back to 1972 when I was 10 years old and living in the Harrisburg, PA, area. It was June. We were settling into our new home my parents bought a couple months before, located in a brand new development just north of the city in a valley with the long ridge mountains on either side that are typical of that area. Down that valley ran pretty little stream named Stony Creek, shallow and about 15-20 feet wide. Keep these last couple facts in mind. They’re relevant to this account.
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Late in June, Hurricane Agnes spun up out of the Yucatan peninsula area, crossed the Gulf of Mexico, and hit the southern United States. It was the first named hurricane of the season. Agnes crossed Florida and sped north along the east coast. In most of the states it hit, the damage was minimal.
It was a category 1 hurricane, the weakest kind. When it drifted up to the Pennsylvania area, Agnes stalled. Day after day, torrential downpours drowned eastern Pennsylvania before the storm finally moved north again and dissipated. There were no tornadoes or devastating winds, but far, far more water than rivers and streams in the eastern part of the state could handle. They all morphed into raging monsters destroying everything in their way.
Fortuitously, my family lived on high ground. The flood waters never reached us. The worst we had was a soggy lawn and garden. But nearby beautiful little Stony Creek became one of those raging monsters. We heard its relentless roar even though it was about a half mile away.
One day I walked across the field behind our home to the edge of the hill that overlooked the road and creek. The roar there was thunderous, muddy brown water churning and tumbling down the valley to the Susquehanna River, which runs past Harrisburg and its suburbs.
Houses next to Stony Creek as well as the road itself were completely under water. Pieces of garbage, parts of houses, trees, oil slicks, and more raced past in the torrent. The creek was probably more than 50 yards wide. And there was the problem for us. That road was the only way in and out of the valley in which our housing development was located. We were trapped.
There were other roads we could take to go to the local stores, but those roads, in the end, converged on the one in and out of the valley. Thousands of us were safe but trapped. At Harrisburg, the Susquehanna River rose and rose, finally cresting almost 33 feet above its typical depth and about 17 feet above flood stage. Normally a mile wide at Harrisburg, I recall the river tripling in width, maybe and even more so. Bridges were submerged and impassable.
I also remember the regular whup-whup-whup rumble of military helicopters landing in a nearby farm field to deliver supplies for the local stores that remained open. We had to boil our water for 20 minutes before using it because the supply was contaminated. Even the governor of Pennsylvania then, Milton Shapp, and his family became refugees because the governor’s residence was flooded.
When the flood waters finally receded, everything that had been submerged was coated with brown mud permeated by garbage and vegetation and stained with multicolored streaks of oil and chemicals. That mud gave off a smell that was both sweet and putrid. We pinched our noses at times to avoid the odor as best we could. The clean-up and repairs afterward took years. When I graduated from high school and left for college eight years after the flood, signs of the damage were still visible around the city.
I am grateful that many people have never experienced a flood first hand. I share this account and some of its details, though, to help others understand what a firsthand experience of flooding is like.
We have sisters and brothers here in our Diocese who are struggling through the disaster of recent flooding caused by powerful storms in early August, suffering through their own nightmares of loss, struggle, and recovery.
Deacon David Bezusko, our senior director in the Diocesan Vicariate for Catholic Social Doctrine, has been at the forefront coordinating resources and assistance from around the Diocese to help parishes assisting people where the floods hit hardest: Perry, Muskingum, and Licking counties, and Franklin County to some extent as well. More than 500 households were affected in Perry County alone. The number of affected households in other communities are still being tabulated. A mountainous task lays ahead for countless people.
“Imagine the experiences of people who were rescued in the middle of the night by boat,” Deacon Bezusko told me. “I spoke with a woman who lost everything, awakened at 4 a.m. by the sound of rapping on the door and flashing emergency lights through the bedroom window. Responders in rafts and boats telling you that you have five minutes to grab as much stuff as you can and to get on board because the water is rising and you have to get out.”
People whose homes have not been washed away will have to clean up damaged items, especially in their basements: replacing HVAC units, washers and dryers, water heaters, and so forth, as well as personal belongings destroyed. There are seniors and people with disabilities who do not have the ability to clean up their homes by themselves.
Insurance claim settlements can take a long time, and in some cases may not come in at all. Individuals also have shared with Deacon Bezusko their experience of the smell of flooding. “It’s there, and people have talked about it. Also, the ‘PTSD’ of what happens when it starts raining hard again.”
Now for the request I mentioned above. First, pray for those suffering and for those working to help the recovery efforts. Pope Leo recently made an appeal for prayer for flood victims all over the world, as well as an appeal to step up and help, each of us as we best can.
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Every parish here has been asked to have a second collection to raise funds to support our church’s flood relief efforts. Please give generously. If you missed giving when the collection was taken in your parish, you can still donate by reaching out to your parish office.
The weekend of September 12-13 is the annual special collection to support the Spirit of Hope Fund set up for disaster relief efforts within the Diocese. Please consider supporting that collection as well. Finally, you might consider joining with some others in your parish, under the direction of your pastor, and seek out ways to help the parishes in the affected who are doing their utmost to help where the flood damage has been worst.
Individually, we have the ability to make a difference by joining with others in support of those suffering. I challenge all of us, myself included, to take that step toward being those shining lights that Jesus Christ called us to be, people giving of their time, talent, and means. It definitely makes a difference to those who suffer and are in need of help.