Recovering After the Nashville Flood

A lot of people are sad and ticked the national media, and the country as a whole, doesn’t get the magnitude of what has happened here.

Do you now know, I am curious? Did you see Anderson Cooper last week? Do you realize that an entire 52-county region flooded, that street after street after street — from the most affluent to the poorest — is full of moldy, noxious debris?

Do you know the landmarks that crown Nashville as Music City and that beloved and famous guitars and instruments are trashed? Did you know that most of the people whose homes, cars and businesses were damaged did not have flood insurance?

In the days since the May 1 and 2nd floods, thousands of volunteers have deployed. Bless them. In my little town alone, the Boy Scouts, the Baptists, the Mormons, the Mennonites, all came. People came from Georgia, from New York, from down the road. They did demolition, they lovingly washed dishes, mementos, furniture — no easy task, as the muddy grit refuses to let go quietly. My neighbors are running the disaster relief center. The teen-agers are busting their young butts cleaning up too.

The rail lines are broken, so the train whistles have stopped, replaced instead by the chop chop chop of helicopters. Trucks full of debris roll down the highway. Insulation floats in the air. Gritty, brown dust covers the city.

Eavesdrop on conversations in the grocery store, the department store, the post office, the coffee shop: It’s all about the flood.

I helped at a friend’s house. The water came up to the second floor. The house may be a loss. Hearts are broken. Her child, nearly 7, is afraid to live near the creek anymore.

I’ve used my journalism and web skills to develop a communication system to get updates out. The least I could do. What does that mean? We blog, we tweet — everything from volunteer opportunities to FEMA updates. We tweet needs from the relief center and in walk the goods — everything from bubble wrap to Depends. It’s amazing.

People are good. I have met neighbors I hope to know better. They’re strong and smart and committed. I wish I had known them earlier.

And then there is guilt. Guilt that you haven’t done enough. At least that’s the conversation I’ve had with friends who, like me, were untouched. Which friend do you go help first? The one down the road, the one with the business downtown, the one who once taught your child? The list goes on.

So, you do what you can. No one has to ask you. You just do it.

And you keep doing it until it’s all done.

That’s just how it goes here.

It’s the Volunteer State, after all.

A few days ago, I was headed to a meeting at the Relief Center. It was nearly 4, so the spring light was golden and magical. In the distance, I saw a couple sitting on lawn chairs on a slab where their house used to stand. The house was washed away to unknown parts by a tiny creek turned raging river.

As I walked toward them, a friend of their’s also approached.

“Come on in, the door’s open!” the woman called out.

Humor and kindness does, indeed, save us from just about anything.

How you can help:

1. The Red Cross
2. Second Harvest Food Bank of Middle Tennessee
3. The Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee
4. United Way of Middle Tennessee