Where’s Groundswell of Flood Relief for Midwest?

Unless you reside on the Five Mile Beach’s west side, and flooding is a normal part of living when the moon and tides are right, few can imagine what life is like during and after a flood.
Photos and videos cannot begin to convey the enormity of the suffering the rising rivers bring to people. I once read an American Red Cross booklet about what to do after you return home to your home that was flooded. It was mind-boggling.
It would be more merciful for the home to be devoured by fire, at least you would have to start all over again, and not have to contend with water-logged possessions.
One of the news reports from the Midwest last week conveyed the idea of a stench that was unimaginable: dead birds and fish, diesel fuel and hog manure all mixed about in the same area.
Residents were warned to keep away from the toxic mixture flowing about their hometowns, while many had little choice but to hope they would be protected from illness by some stretch of providence.
If the people know the rivers will overflow, why do they return to their homes? The thought crossed my mind, but then could not the same be asked about oceanfront homes on the Cape May County coast?
If those people know, sooner or later, a hurricane or some wicked storm will propel powerful waves through their walls, and leave only sticks and debris, why do they live there?
If I had the answer, I wouldn’t be here.
In the Midwest, if the Mississippi or Missouri rivers flood the family farm after a heavy rain or snow melts, every penny of that family’s is likely invested in that land. They have little choice, unless they elect to leave all and relocate. In most cases, leaving the land is not an option.
In this county, while considerable sums are paid for the privilege of an ocean view, most of those dwellings are merely temporary retreats where a few weeks annually are spent.
It is impossible to view the flood scenes without one’s heart extending to those poor souls who are faced with the monumental task of walking back into a ruined home, and starting over. It’s not much different than the feeling that many tornado victims feel as they look at what used to be their homes, which are relegated to perhaps a cement pad or one wall.
The newspaper photos and evening news clips will soon find something more current, more compelling to show the masses, and the hapless residents of those small communities, which perhaps enjoyed a glimmer of fame if the President decided to visit, will be left with massive debt and a soggy mess that will take weeks or months to dry.
I recall visiting friends of my father in Strathmere after the March 1962 storm. The couple was busy, he, shoveling sand from the interior before ripping up the carpets, she, going through soaked linens and trinkets around the home.
Glad to be alive, they had been airlifted from their tiny spit of land to Ocean View. They spent a long time in a motel as they got their lives back together.
So it will be for many of our countrymen. Some may know their names, perhaps friends from the service or college, possibly family members. Many others will appear as only numbers in a news report: “24,000 Still Homeless After Flood,” the headline may read. “They’ll get by somehow,” we may think, and then wonder what’s for supper.
Like the victims of Hurricane Katrina, many of whom are still displaced, the recent flood victims may want to move away so they will never have to face their personal tragedies again, but that wish cannot be granted. The only option they have is to go into the mire and clean it up, work hard, and pray the flood waters will never again rise, at least in your lifetime.
We can rely on the American Red Cross, but there are only so many volunteers there, and only so much money available.
Perhaps we will see a groundswell of grassroots support for direct “people-to-people” aid, as happened after Hurricane Katrina or when Xenia, Ohio was stricken by an F5 tornado on April 3, 1974. That twister cut a path through the middle of Xenia. The freak of nature claimed 34 lives, hurt an additional 1,150, destroyed half of the city’s buildings, and made 10,000 people homeless. Nine schools, nine churches and 180 businesses were destroyed.
At that time there was a massive outpouring of donations of clothing and food from far and wide to help the afflicted overcome their distress. Will we see such caring today for those thousands in the Midwest, or will we leave the caring to the Federal Emergency Management Agency?
If there is any organization that wants to publicize its flood donation relief efforts, direct them to the Herald. We will do what we can to promote those drives, knowing in our hearts that someone we don’t even know would probably do the same for us if the mighty Atlantic swept in and deluged Cape May County.
Send releases to: al.c@cmcherald.com. Yes, it’s a bad time to ask for donations, but tragedy doesn’t work on convenient timetables.