Unable to sleep any longer, I was surprised to find my wife awake too. Normally, she has no trouble sleeping in on Saturday mornings. But not this time, she had been thinking about the upcoming storm and the need for sand bags most of the early morning. At first, I was a little annoyed because I wasn’t ready to think about emergency preparedness so early on a Saturday morning. I needed time, precious time, to wake up and process the information, challenging both my character and my competence.
But out of respect to Tammy, I decided to at least read the dire storm warnings from the local emergency management agencies. And sure enough, they were predicting all kinds of environmental mayhem and speaking of strange things like an atmospheric river and other climate aberrations. I now had motivation when previously I had none. At this point I resolved to take my wife’s visions of sand bags seriously.
Happy with myself, I put on a confident smile and stood up straight and made my way outside to start shoveling the snow in the driveway and the walkway in the backyard. We have my wife’s daughter and her grandchildren temporarily living with us as she finds as place to live. And her two boys eagerly volunteered as well. The boys, my wife, and I were able to quickly clear those two areas, even though the boys with their short attention spans to a distance sliding contest when they found an area of smooth ice resistant to our best shoveling efforts.
Once we finished shoveling the snow, we were ready to sand bags. We jumped in the car and made to the nearest fire station. Quickly an assembly line was organized with our labor divided into bag holders, shovelers, and loaders. We worked like the dickens until we noticed our car was getting lower and lower, so we had to cut short our spectacular sandbagging efforts, even though nobody in our group had an ounce quit in them.
In our newly converted low rider, we rushed home self-satisfied with our antlike work ethic. Still riding our emergency preparedness high, we likewise unloaded our sand bags with incredible efficiency and strategically laid them in front of our garage area.
As a Mormon, you live for frightful weather like this. It’s like a test of all your previous food storage and emergency preparedness training. Candles. Check. Hand-cranked radio. Check. Water supplies. Check. Freeze dried mac n’ cheese. Check. Prodigious amounts of instant chocolate pudding. Check! Check!
And now it was time, to wait for that river in the sky to drop its rain. And wait we did. But it never came as the weatherpersons predicted. Their predictions kept getting pushed out later and later in the day. The rains did not arrive until later that night.
When the rains came, they were a steady, heavy rains that brought more water than our feeble desert soils can normally absorb. So as a consequence, our rivers rose and our streets flooded. And we were stuck inside most of the day, driving each other bat crazy.
Luckily, my wife and I both had an out…for a while. We had both volunteered to help the Red Cross at the chapel since it has been designated as Carson City’s main emergency shelter for the storm.
My shift was later in the afternoon. When I got there, the head Red Cross volunteer assigned me as the food liaison (I think my appearance gave her the impression I really like all things food). My duties were to help serve meals prepared by the Salvation Army and count meals served and report to the Red Cross the number of meals served since the Salvation Army was not willing to share that information with the Red Cross. I do not know why they weren’t sharing.
Only two people showed up and no meals were needed at the time (lucky for them I am sure I would have botched somehow). Much of my time volunteering, was spent talking to the other volunteers and saying the word “culvert” a lot while we checked our phones for alerts telling us which roads were flooded and closed off.
After many days, the rains and snow ceased. And me and my house survived, as did most houses. Of course, it’s still not over the weather people are predicting another atmospheric river next week, but I think the worst has a passed.
One of the great processes you go through in life is to discover yourself, to find those gifts and capacities God has given you. He has given you great talents, the smallest part of which you have just begun to utilize. Trust the Lord to assist you in unlocking the door to those gifts. Some of us have created imaginary limits in our minds. There is literally a genius locked up inside each of us. Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise”-Gene R. Cook
Andrew finally did it. He got his driver’s license just in time to enlist in the U.S. Army (but that’s another story). He apparently forgot to smile when they took his picture. Not only that he posed like he was trying out for a wise guy role in the Sopranos. Heaven help Andrew if he ever gets pulled over. Even if he’s not guilty of anything, his driver’s license picture says its more than likely he did whatever they pulled him over for. And if I was cop I would check the trunk for a body while I was at it.
When Andrew told me he got his driver’s license, a voice in my head told me that we’d have to let him drive on our Christmas trip to see my parents. So the night before, we quietly discussed as a team of equal partners the idea of him driving during some part of our eight-hour journey to St. George. After much discussion and hushing, it was finally agreed that he would drive the Tonopah to Beatty leg. And on the way down he did okay considering he had to drive through some fog near Goldfield. And I did pretty good as well, I kind of felt like a Father Duck teaching his little duckling how to swim.
But on the way back from St. George it was noticeably different. At first, Andrew and I had a mini-battle of wills as he wanted to go rogue on me and drive 80 mph because pretty much everyone else on US 95 was driving over eighty and he was being frequently passed, but I wasn’t comfortable with that and told him he that the max he could drive was 75 mph. Also as part of the deal he had to drive with two hands on the wheel at all times, which he violated several times when he was casually telling us stories about high school.
I couldn’t tell if there was a crosswind or not as we drove from Beatty, but the ride for some reason wasn’t very smooth and was even less smooth when he was taking one hand of the wheel to express himself. Finally though, we made it to Tonopah, but not before discovering that Tammy was laying in a fetal position with an acute case of motion sickness.
As we passed the clown motel and pulled into the Chevron, Tammy announced that she would drive the next leg. Normally, I run a pretty tight ship as far as making driving assignments, but I wasn’t about to tangle with a nauseous Mama Bear. Sometimes, you have to know when to give way.
The rest of the trip went off without a hitch. We sang songs, played the alphabet game, and discussed the St. Petersburg’s paradox. It was good to get home. We survived and Andrew got to participate a little more in the human ant colony as he exercised his new power to drive. One more step toward his independence.