Mississippi River Flood of 2011 Archives

Nearly three months ago I shared with you the devastating effects of the great flood of 2011 on the people of Mississippi County, Missouri. I invited you to contact the U. S. Army Corps of Engineers and implore them to “do the right thing” and help these folks put their lives back together. Many of you did; many sent me copies of your emails and of responses from the Corps. Again, my heartfelt thanks for that! We were joined by voices of elected officials and empathetic people from all over the country and things looked hopeful. Unfortunately, it hasn’t turned out as hoped and the people of Mississippi County are struggling. Here is the situation –

On May 2nd, the U. S. Army Corps of Engineers detonated 250 tons of explosives inside the Bird’s Point Levee at three separate locations. The act, which was part of a plan to save the city of Cairo, Illinois, and other downriver communities, allowed a torrent of Mississippi water to roar in at a rate of 550,000 cubic feet per second. As a result, nearly 100 homes, 130,000 acres of farm land and countless silos and barns were immediately destroyed. I toured the area by boat and plane in May and was overwhelmed by the extent of devastation. Click back to the posts in May and June to see some of those photos and stories.

Since then, there have been myriad studies, meetings and evaluations, but very little actual help. People whose homes and farms were destroyed are still without answers or assistance. They are still crammed into the homes of relatives or friends, unsure of any options for their future. These are resilient and independent people; many are the 6th generation of their family to farm this land. They are pragmatic about living near the River; they accept it will flood occasionally and some crops will be lost. They even accept that some homes may be flooded and the messy goo will need to be cleaned up. But, the force of the water released by these blasts is unprecedented. It tore apart the homes and barns and crushed the silos like paper cups. It gouged networks of ravines in former cornfields, leaving holes as deep as 60 feet in some. It washed away miles of roads and bridges. The African American community of Pinhook (in the post of May 29) is a ghost town. One couple is staying on their second floor; the rest of the homes lie around them in uninhabitable ruins.

Not only has financial assistance to those affected come only in dribbles, far below anyone’s estimate of the damage, but the Corps of Engineers has now made a decision which projects a bleak future for everyone. The Bird’s Point Levee, they have decided, will only be rebuilt to an “interim” level, which is 10.5 feet lower than when it was destroyed. Since the River has exceeded that level in 12 of the past 20 years, it seems only a question of when, not if that lower levee will be overtopped, inundating the area again.

After my own research, I do understand that these are incredibly complex decisions. The Corps must take into consideration the interests of many different entities. We all know that funding is tight and that nature has given the Corps plenty to do this year. Still, stopping the levee rebuilding more than ten feet below the previous level seems a short-sighted and dangerous act and no one, not even the Corps, seems to be saying that it can prevent disaster.

As I visited downriver communities after the flood, people there expressed their appreciation for the sacrifice required of Mississippi County. They did feel it made a difference. The release of all that water into Mississippi County, they said, relieved the pressure on their levees and helped minimize the damage. Does it not seem these folks have sacrificed enough? Is it not time to say thank you and help them pick up the pieces of their lives??

A documentary film was premiered yesterday in East Prairie, Missouri, telling the story of the devastation and the ongoing struggle of the people there. It has just now been made available online. Please take a moment to see it – just click this link www.disasteratbirdspoint.com Click the “Watch the Video” button and then, if you are moved to do so, add your voice to those calling for the Corps of Engineers to help the people of Mississippi County, fix what they broke and fully restore the levee. You can easily help in whatever way you choose by using the buttons available on this site.

The events of our world pass quickly these days – and if you follow much news, there seems to be a disaster somewhere every week, making the flood of 2011 old news. In Mississippi County, although the water has receded and folks continue to do what they can to rebuild their lives, a quiet struggle continues without much notice or much help. The flood was a natural event, but the magnitude of the destruction was the result of decisions made by the Corps of Engineers. It’s too late to affect those decisions, but it is exactly the right time to affect current ones. Every voice matters. Thanks for listening – Gayle

Below – Mississippi County farmer Sam Barker surveying his flooded farm.

After my recent trip to the flooded area of southeast Missouri known as the bootheel, I came home to meet a previous commitment for the days since then. I am just now resurfacing to catch up with the news and see the effects of flooding on the lower Mississippi. Another trip is in the planning stage – but, for now, I want to share some of the stories of the people of the flooded land of the Missouri bootheel.

“Mr. George – I’ve brought you company!” announces my friend, Silvey, as we walk into the school bus barn. “Well, get on in here!” a voice calls from beneath a school bus. A tall, smiling man slides out, wipes the grease from his hands and welcomes me with a deep throaty chuckle. Probably everyone in East Prairie, Missouri, knows George Williams – he has been driving the local school bus since 1962. His warm handshake and direct gaze give me an immediate image of several generations of students holding both respect and affection for this gentle, strong man.

We sit on metal folding chairs in a corner of the bus barn and Silvey tells him about my upcoming book and my interest in hearing about his life in Pinhook, Missouri. His smile fades, he shakes his head sadly and says, “Tell you the truth, Miss Silvey, I’m real glad my wife ain’t alive to see what happened to our home. I believe it’d be too much for her.” He is quiet a moment as he looks down and sighs deeply. I feel his weariness as he says again, “I sure ‘nuf am glad she ain’t here to see her house like this.”

“Mr. George” as he is known, has lived in Pinhook for 58 years. There have been three or four lesser floods over those years, but nothing like this one. This time the water went up to his roof and the house will have to be torn down. He won’t go back, he says, “There ain’t nothin’ there to go back to.”

I’m piecing together the history of Pinhook, Missouri, and by the time it goes into the book, I’ll have a more complete picture. So far, I am told the community was created as a result of the sharecropper’s revolt of 1939. In recognition of and reparation for the bad treatment received, land was made available to the Christian Liberty Association. African Americans, who were otherwise prohibited from owning land at that time, could obtain 40 acre plots through that organization. Farms and homesteads were created and the community of Pinhook was born.

Pinhook thrived for a time – during the 1950s and 60s, it was home to as many as 250 people. In the years since then, however, things got tougher and much of the land was sold off as families struggled to support themselves. It’s always been a tight-knit community where people take care of each other. “Most everybody’s family in some way or ‘nother,” he says, smiling again.

“We raised our own nine kids there,” he tells me, “plus ten others that needed a home.” They all had to move away, though, in order to find jobs. When the floodwaters came this spring, Pinhook had dwindled to just 18 families. Now those families are all staying with relatives and friends, hoping to figure out what to do “before they wear out their welcome.” No one he knows plans to go back. “Pinhook,” he says, “is history.”

I know as I leave Mr. George that I will likely see his flooded house before he will. I am scheduled to tour the area by air and by boat later today. My words of empathy and comfort seem to me inadequate for his loss, but his warm smile is back as we say goodbye and I feel his resilience and goodness.

My pilot knows which house belongs to Mr. George and points it out, half-submerged and surrounded by a vast sea of murky water. Even from here, I can tell it sits at the end of a street of well-tended homes.

The closer and more heart-wrenching view of Pinhook, however, is from the boat. A street sign barely extends above the water.

Houses are torn apart by the powerful current and waves created by the wind. I know that under the carport Mr. George’s “old but good” 1979 Dodge Diplomat lies submerged; he couldn’t drive it out because the water came up quicker than expected.

Water rushes through Mr. George’s house and an entire section of wall bobs loosely with the waves. Vertical blinds wobble with the current rushing through the shattered picture window. All the drapes and blinds are drawn shut and I imagine the final moments of closing the house up, locking the door and hoping against hope. The silence feels hollow and dead, as if the water has washed away even the echoes of those who lived here. There is not even a bird call – nothing but the putter of our boat motor as we ride the choppy water a dozen feet above the street.

Pinhook Day would have been this weekend. Nearly everyone who ever lived at Pinhook came home over Memorial Day weekend. Every house would have been bursting with people gathered for noisy reunion picnics filled with laughter, conversation, music and good food. To all of you who would have been there today, my heart goes out to you.

The resilience and goodness I saw in Mr. George Williams is obvious in his family. A few of his children and grandchildren came together to create a song, dedicated to all people affected by the flood of 2011. In it they sing of their lost childhood home, but also of the home they hold in their hearts, wherever they are. It’s a celebration, they say, of the love they grew up with that can never be washed away. Here is a link to their beautiful tribute www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjRj1ULvE7k

In love and peace,

Gayle

Ongoing Effects of 2011 Flood

Stories of the Mississippi River Flood of 2011