Side Roads: A river roars through it

When the rain kept falling, we knew we were in for a big river.

Living with the vagaries of the East Fork of the White River is something local residents take as a matter of course. It is a part of our lives, this river that snakes its way from one end of Jackson County to the other. For the most part, it stays within its banks, marked on maps as a drunken scrawl that loops and turns and coils back upon itself.

We knew, especially, when the sky cracked open and spilled out a deluge north of us, that the river would be rushing into surrounding areas.

I don't know if any of us expected it to become a monstrously bloated serpent that, hissing and roaring, would burst from its bed and feed so voraciously on homes and highways, fields and farms.

Who would have thought there would be so much destruction, so many people's lives changed?

But there is a saving grace in this county, and that is a combination of the resilience of its people and their willingness to help others. The initial drama of the flood has subsided, but there are still many people toiling, giving to and comforting others who have lost so much, even as volunteers and agency workers grow weary and there may sometimes seem to be more problems than solutions.

Those who have been affected have turned their hands to not only helping themselves, but finding time to help their friends and neighbors as well.

Any disaster has its priorities, beginning with the preservation of life itself. Losing irreplaceable items such as photos and heirlooms is a bitter pill. Many times, people lose their livelihood. Flooded businesses take a financial hit, and so do their employees.

In this county, farmers were just beginning to get up to speed after a cool, rainy spring delayed planting.

Work took me into the country this week, and I saw sadly brave little stands of corn that lived only because they were growing on small rises in the fields. Only feet away were dead and dying plants, or sometimes just bare earth, or even water still standing. Across the road, another field would look completely unharmed. In some places, all the plants were brown and bent, lying forlornly in the mud. I thought about how the men and women who farm for a living must feel, seeing a crop in the field disappear. I thought about the rest of us, too, and I don't mean just here. I thought about high food prices and world hunger.

People can recover from a disaster. They will find homes, replace furniture, rebuild their businesses, and farmers may survive financially and plant again.
But there is one thing that cannot be done, one thing money cannot do, and that is to restore even one single living plant that was taken by the flood.

A disaster anywhere affects people everywhere. We're all in this together.

The nice thing is, here in Jackson County, we're in some pretty good company.

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Persinger is community editor for The Tribune. She may be reached at (812 (523-7063 or jpersingerj@tribtown.com.