Confusion (Part 2 of the Flood Series)

Confusion.

That was the operant word for most of 1997. Blizzards turned to ice storms turned to floods turned to red tape. Often, the information changed day by day. Others, it was minute to minute.

After we decided to leave, Crys and I had to decide where we were going to go. What to take. What to leave. And we left a lot – we were on the second floor. The water would have to get over 60+ feet for it to reach our floor. My car was parked high in the ramp across the street, and we took a week’s worth of clothes each.

Two mornings later, when we realized we weren’t returning home, I started making calls. First it was Qwest. They were cool. Told us that they’d disconnect the service and when we were ready to restart our service, they wouldn’t charge us a set-up fee or deposit. Then, it was Northern States Power (NSP, now Xcel). I told the operator that we needed to disconnect our service and told her where we lived.

“Well, we can’t turn off the service until Tuesday. We need to send someone out to read the meter.”

“Did you hear what I said? I was in one of the buildings in downtown Grand Forks. One of the buildings that burned.”

“Yes, sir, I realize that. We still need to send out a meter reader.”

“Well, he better be in a boat and have SCUBA gear – it’s under about 10 feet of water.”

“You don’t need to get snippy with me, sir.”

“Lady – you lose everything in a flood and fire and then we can talk. Until then, I’ll be snippy if I want.”

FEMA was the worst, though. Calling them every day. Getting suggestions in Grand Forks of places we could go try and rent – mostly basement apartments in the downtown area.

We went into Jamestown on Sunday to get some things. While we were standing in the Wal Mart, I realized I didn’t have a razor. Or underwear. As I took a few steps towards health and hygiene, it hit me...

I didn’t have any underwear.

I sat on the floor of the Wal Mart and started to cry. That’s when it hit me that I had lost everything including my underwear. People walked by as if I were a freak. Someone took my picture. I think I made the newspaper that week.

From Jamestown, we headed to my sister’s in Minnesota. We weren’t sure if the bridge across the Red would be open at Fargo – chances were that we’d have to drive into South Dakota to get across. Finally, we received definitive word that the I-94 bridge was open and we headed off down the road.

Between Valley City and Fargo, the freeway went to one lane – the river there had flooded as well. We went through on a strip of gravel, and then...it was into Fargo.

We got to Lori’s in the early evening. FEMA had announced that we should keep in contact with them so they could contact us as needed. I called in from Lori’s, and got shifted three or four times through the phone tree before someone could help me. While I was talking with the woman on the other end, I asked her what the progress on our case was. “Well, if your place burned, we can’t help you.”

“What????”

“It says here that your home was destroyed in a fire. We only are covering damage from the flood.”

“Lady – (this was before I started asking for the names of the person on the other end of the line – it’s amazing how much more helpful people become when you say their name over and over while you talk with them – it’s good to be a psychologist) – my apartment was in one of the buildings that burned during the flood in Grand Forks.”

“I realize that. But, we aren’t covering fire damage.”

I took a deep breath. Looked towards the heavens. Prayed. Then, fueled by divine intervention, said, “okay...here’s what happened. We lived on the second floor. The fire ate the fucking floor out from under all our stuff, and it fell into the goddamed water! Does that work?”

“Sir, there is no need for profanities.”

“Lady, you ain’ heard anything profane yet!” And just as I was getting ready to rip into her, I heard a “beep” on her end, a beep that signaled the computer must have been updated.

“Sir, what was the address again?” I told her, and she said “Sir, I’m sorry. There has been some confusion here as you may have guessed. I just got an update that says if your home was in a specific area that you do qualify for flood relief.” She apologized a few more times, then told me what I needed to do in order to get the paperwork in motion. She had it sent to us at my sister’s, and we got it three days later.

Confusion.

Crys forgot her glasses in the apartment before we left. I forgot the disk that had my notes and drafts for my comprehensive exams on the computer desk. We were homeless and damn near broke. I had a sinus infection and Crys was suffering from panic attacks. She was blaming the fires on her premonition ... “what if it burns?” ... Those words and my flippant response haunted us both.

Confusion.

“You’ll need to do a complete inventory of loss,” the FEMA lady said. “Write down as much as you can remember and be as specific as possible.”

“Why do we have to fill out an SBA (Small Business Administration) Loan application?”

“That’s just part of the process.”

“Well, the replacement money people have been talking about – is it a grant or a loan?”

“I don’t understand the question, Sir.”

“Will I have to pay this money back?”

“Just fill out the application, Sir.”

“You’re not answering my question!”

“Sir, I’ve only been working here for three days...”

Confusion.

News came that the Interstate to Grand Forks had reopened. We thought about it, and then decided that it would be best to get back north as fast as possible. After a week at my sister’s, we headed back. On the way north, we heard that there was a deadline for submitting our inventory. Since I type better than I can write neatly, I had hammered out an inventory (which I still run into from time to time), but, I didn’t have a printer, I had no way to make a hard copy. We heard this while we were in Fargo, and I started thinking “who do I know in town that might have a computer...”

The main offices for the camp I spend my summers at (and where Crys had worked with me the year before) was right across the river in Moorhead. The next morning, with a floppy disk in hand, we went over to the offices and they allowed us to use one of the computers that was hooked to a printer. We were there for an hour working on the inventory and getting it all squared away. (And I’ll write more about what happened at the offices in the next installment of this journey.)

Then, back to Fargo to where FEMA and the Red Cross had set up a warehouse and help center. We checked in with the FEMA workers, and tried to give them our SBA application and inventory. “Oh, we don’t that here – you need to send that in to this office,” some guy in polyester slacks and a red FEMA vest explained, pointing to an address at the very bottom of the form.

“But, the guy I spoke with on the phone said we could drop it off here. Hell, that’s what the radio people have been saying all day.”

“Well, they’re wrong.”

“Fuck.”

“Sir, is there...”

“Why can’t this be easy? Huh? Jesus Christ, we don’t need this!”

At that point, a different FEMA worker came over, figured out what was happening, and said, “No, we DO take these here. Come over here with me,” she said, motioning for Crys and me to follow her over to a different set of tables.

Confusion.

After we got done with FEMA, we walked through the Red Cross part of the warehouse, and picking out stuff that we needed. “Take what you need,” we were told over and over, and we had people helping us with carts until we had enough, more than enough stuff. Then it came time to go through the check out. “Boy, you have a lot of stuff,” one of the people said, “do you think you have enough?” The way the volunteer said “enough” made Crystal feel like we were abusing the system.

Confusion.

For the better part of three weeks, we fought hard against the confusion. Often, I felt like it would be easier to just give up. To just give in to the feelings of inadequacy and in to the feelings of fear and the sheer utter hopelessness. But, every time I felt like giving up, I’d look at Crys and realize that I needed to be strong for her. Regardless, things worked out, even though the confusion was mind-numbing at times.

From confusion ...

strength and character grows.