The week's weather has left the Midwest saturated. After driving through northeastern Illinois with friends, it is clear that there is no where for more water to go -- except in people's basements.
Everyone can remember some point where they lived in a house that flooded. The water starts entering menacingly in a corner of the room, acting like it is perfectly normal for the walls to be leaking. Then it pours into the basement. The sub-pump is useless because the electricity went out hours ago, and homeowners are left with a wet, musty soggy mess.
But to a 5 year-old, floods spell fun.
The first time my house had a serious flood, my parents pulled my brother and me out of bed, made us put on our snow boots, and dragged us across the street to a neighbor's house on higher ground. My parents put our furniture on folding chair stilts, crossing their fingers that the water would not go past two feet.
That year, we had four feet of water.
My brother and I had trouble understanding why we could not enjoy our new indoor pool. Dad said we could get electrocuted.
Looking back, that must have annoyed my parents a great deal. They put their hard-earned money into their home, only to have part of it destroyed by excessive rain.
And all their children cared about was being able to sit on the propped up furniture.
We wanted to float in inner-tubes down the flooded streets, or hang out at the new water park where our playground used to be.
It is amazing how a natural disaster can have such a horrible effect on parents but does so little to ruin the playful mind of a child.
So as my dad incessantly checked the rain gage the past few days, I found myself wondering how we would prop up the furniture, where we would put the electronics so they would not be ruined or how much it would cost to replace the nearly new carpet.
I did not want the indoor pool or the lazy river down the street.
I wanted to know how a sub-pump operated and how much water the ground could hold before it starts invading my house.
Every time the emergency alerts aired with their red glow and annoying noises, I read the scrolling type instead of flipping to another channel.
I now understand why my mom was in tears while on the phone with my grandfather when I was little. Her husband was at work. She had two small children and her basement was filling with water.
This week, as we watched footage of people rowing from their flooded homes, it is no longer amusing. It worries me.
No matter how much planning they do to protect themselves, people are no match for natural disasters.
Moms and dads get scared. Sometimes grandpas don't even have the answers. There is no magic age where someone is given an instruction manual to adulthood, but I always thought my parents had everything under control.
Part of being an adult is making your own security. It's reading the scrolling type.
It's propping up furniture on folding chairs. It's calling your in-laws for help.
Now I am going to ask my dad how the sub-pump works.
Read More
Three Air Jam teams take home the win
October 12, 2012Nineteen teams shimmied, shook and flipped for a sold out John R. Emens Auditorium on Thursday night during the 25th annual Air Jam.
Bill Clinton Speaks at North Central High School
October 12, 2012Former President's Speech Could Have Effect on State Senate Race
