The Two Rivers

Why I'm thinking so much about the rivers, lately,the Des Moines and the Raccoon, I haven't the faintest idea. I've lived between two rivers before, and beside them, in Upstate New York. The Hudson River and the Mohawk River, those would be. I never paid too much attention to them at all. Terry lived in the historical Stockade area in downtown Schenectady which had flooded on occasion. I really wasn't too aware of that either until Terry moved to that area. It was very similar to Des Moines during the flood crisis this past year. The areas in the flood plain were threatened, with voluntary evacuations recommended for those people living in the most endangered areas, sandbagging . For those of us living on higher grounds, if it wasn't for the news, one could be completely oblivious to the impending threat. I lived in Schenectady so many years but being on higher grounds I was never really aware of any flooding at all, which obviously did happen, in those low lying areas and the Stockade area.

And then there was Kevin. The river, one or the other, here in Des Moines, didn't claim Kevin's life but that is where his remains were found. Ever since then, the rivers have fascinated me as they were an integral part of Kevin's death. As I've talked about before, I had hoped to do another search which did not pan out. I watched the river from that perspective; an opportune time where one could walk around and search an area previously under water. The time was ideal when I first arrived here three years ago. The river bed around the old train trestle where they found Kevin's remains was dry. The search didn't happen and weather patterns changed and then the flooding of 2008. That ideal time has passed for good.

It's just amazing to me. The power and force of moving water. I've watched the rivers, walked in the shallow waters around and below the old train bridge. I've felt the force of the current on my legs as I walked from sand bar to sand bar, not really looking for anything, or thinking I would find something regarding Kevin. Or, maybe I did. Not that this is new to me either as I grew up in an area where we visited the beaches surrounding Long Island, N.Y. I was well aware of the undertow, the force of the waves as they came pounding to shore. But now, of course, it means something different.

Brian and I walked around one or two of the flooded areas after the river had crested. I listened to the news reports diligently. The river was to crest at so many feet over flood stage, etc. I could see that the river was so much higher. But it wasn't until I had gone down to the railroad bridge (Kevin's bridge) where I had been so many times before, that I truly realized the magnitude of the flooding. I had walked on the rickety bridge many times. It was scary as I watched every step I made from one railroad tie to the next. You could see the water or the sand bar, depending on the level of the river at the time, twenty to thirty feet below. That day, as we were watching the river downtown we went to the Scott Street bridge where we could see the old railroad bridge as well. The water was right up to the railroad ties on the bridge! It was amazing. I then had a more accurate realization of crest stage, the flooding, the shear amount of water swelling the rivers. The river levels remained very high for months but now are so low one can see the sand bars along the sides of the rivers and even in the middle. From one extreme to the other!

And Kevin was a part of this, as well, the floods of '08, even though some of my hopes of ever finding more of his remains were washed down stream, forever, with the flood waters.