Group texting can be a special blessing. Last week-end one of my grandsons left for college. I texted his mother’s siblings and my brother to send words of encouragement to the new college student and his parents, and the sharing began.
I shared with them that it seemed like yesterday that I’d taken each of them to college, and how it seemed impossible my grandchildren are now making that journey. I spoke of how I felt when I made that trip with each of them – how hard it was to leave them to face the unknown, and to drive home to face an empty bedroom. I told my son that I missed him so much, I moped around for days, until one day his sisters reminded me, “Mom, we’re still here!” That set me straight for sure! My youngest daughter shared how much she missed her brother, and would watch television in his bedroom, just to feel closer to him.
At that point, my brother joined in the conversation and we spoke of how much we missed each other. I shared that I remembered sitting in his bedroom playing records – “Because,” by the Dave Clark Five, was one of his favorites, and listening to it always made me miss him more. A few minutes later he sent “Because” on YouTube for all of us to enjoy. I’m sure the children were rolling their eyes, but texts don’t reveal that, of course!
When I left for college, things were very different. Only upper class students were allowed to have cars on campus, and students were not able to go home to visit until fall break. We signed in and out of our dorms and had a 11:00 curfew. If we didn’t go to the library to study, we were in our rooms during “closed study hours” from 7-11, with a 9:00-9:30 break. As one who was often in the infirmary, parents got a call about that, as well as calls if we cut too many classes. I can’t imagine such restrictions working with students these days.
Bottom line, after all these trips down memory lane, it’s the daughter whose son is leaving for college that must have the final word. She texted all of us something she read earlier in the week about a college-bound child: “In the grand scheme of heartbreaking things, this one comes with a lot of gratitude and excitement.” So true, so very true.
Elizabeth
As southeastern Kentuckians continue to search for missing loved ones, muck out their homes and prepare for even more rain, they are beginning to ask whether the recent deadly flooding was a natural disaster or one caused by the coal mines that have drastically reshaped and scarred the landscape.
Compacted dirt, destroyed mountaintops and deforestation in eastern Kentucky have often been left ignored by the coal companies that mined there, despite legal requirements that they attempt to return the land to its natural state when mining concludes. Kentucky, particularly the eastern mountains, are littered with abandoned coal mines. Many are a result of strip mining or mountaintop removal mining, the latter a method in which mining companies use explosives to blast off a mountain’s summit to get to the coal inside. The loss of the natural ridge lines, vegetation and trees, and the cracks in the mountains that are largely owned by companies often funnels rainwater into the thin valleys, or low-lying hollows, where most eastern Kentuckians make their homes. Without these natural protections, regional flooding has grown as climate change brings new levels of precipitation up from the Gulf Coast to Appalachia. While many say this is a natural disaster, the truth is, it’s a disaster that was made by a whole bunch of mining that’s been going on for the past 40 years.
The Surface Mining Control and Reclamation Act of l977 was a federal regulation that was supposed to prevent coal companies from leaving abandoned mines behind. Th law required mine owners to reclaim the land and return it to its natural form as much as possible. In the ensuing 45 years, many companies have avoided that work and many states in the region, like Kentucky, turned a blind eye to it. The hillsides are scarred, they’re not reclaimed and you get a rain event like week before last, and you have terrible flooding, and it was totally exacerbated by the lack of proper regulation.
Reading this information in the Lexington Herald has helped me to see things more clearly. My prayer is that states will take steps to hold companies accountable for failing to reclaim the land, and will do what needs to be done to set things right.
Elizabeth
Seeing the news reports of the flooding in Kentucky is heartbreaking. Growing up in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky and living there much of my life, I remember the ever-present threat of flooding. Little mountain towns and homes on the hillside up and down the “hollers” fall victim to flooding from year to year.
I remember a major flood in the early sixties. Schools were out for weeks. There was no power or water. I can remember serving meals in our church fellowship hall by candlelight, and filling water jugs with water brought in by tanker trucks. We collected and sorted clothing and household items there at the church for folks in need. I remember watching the river swallow the high school football field, and seeing animals struggling in the current for a way to the water’s edge. While many of our homes never flooded, we all dealt with the aftermath.
Another major flood came one early April in the mid seventies, this time with water rushing into much of the downtown. I was expecting a baby and wasn’t able to do much to help, but have vivid memories of sitting with friends washing muddy toys and tricycles during days of recovery. I went back to a friend’s house several times before I found their dachshund puppy, and took the little fellow in until they were able to relocate and have him with them again.
It's hard to understand why some things never change and why folks always want to rebuild in the same spot, knowing the danger. A sense of “home” is very real among mountain folks as well as an understanding that life is just “hard”, and you take what life brings you and do the best you can with it.
Years ago, engineers decided to tunnel through the mountains around my home town in three different spots, dividing the river into three channels, and flood walls were built and floodgates put in place. This area was spared in this round of flooding.
I read just this morning that the Presbyterian Disaster Service (PDA) is already in place and active in recovery efforts, and am reminded again of the importance of our annual One Great Hour of Sharing Offering to benefit that good cause.
In my sadness for the suffering of folks in the flooded areas, I’m comforted by these words from the third verse of the hymn “How Firm a Foundation”:
When through the deep waters I call thee to go,
the rivers of sorrow shall not overflow;
For I will be near thee, thy troubles to bless,
and sanctify to thee thy deepest distress.”
May God bless and keep the dear folks in “my old Kentucky home.”
Elizabeth