Category Archives: Stories

We collected and received dozens of extraordinary stories for When the River Rose. Due to the size and scope of the project, we were not able to publish every story. We are happy to include many stories here that do not appear in the book.

The Good Samaritan

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(This story does not appear in When the River Rose.)

This is a story about one good Samaritan, Ryan Connally, who personified the thousands of volunteers who came to Waterbury – and Vermont – to help in the wake of Irene.

On Sunday afternoon, day seven of clearing debris, a young man with a backpack and hiking boots appeared at our house at 21 Elm Street asking if we could use help. He said his name was Ryan Connelly and he had a couple of hours to give someone a hand.

We were glad to have his help and energy as we were winding down after long hours of debris removal. Ryan went to work with my son-in-law, Todd Pudvar, in the basement, taking down silt-laden ductwork and throwing it outside. We worked about three hours clearing out the basement while Ryan shared his story with us. He had spent the summer on the Kenai Peninsula in Alaska and had come to Vermont to attend a friend’s wedding in Calais. He was hitchhiking from Calais to the Burlington airport to return to North Carolina and stopped to listen to the afternoon music at Rusty Parker Park. While there, Ryan asked one of our neighbors, Corey Hackett, who might need help for a few hours. Corey suggested he check at 21 Elm Street. We sure appreciated Ryan’s energy boost and his help at the end of the day.

We told Ryan about the dinner for volunteers and flood victims at St Leo’s Hall. He didn’t have a place to stay so we let him spend the night upstairs in the Methodist Church and in the morning Todd drove him to the airport.

This is just one example of the many, many hours given by good Samaritans from all over the country.  They have come to our state and our town to assist us when we were in need. This help kept many of us going in the face of the large task ahead. We are ever thankful for their gift of time and hope to one day to be able to return the gift to someone else in similar need. Thank you to all the good Samaritans and may God bless you.

- Skip Flanders, assisted by Jan Gendreau

Love in the Time of Irene

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(This story does not appear in When the River Rose.)

My department at the hospital where I work was wonderful about arranging time off for me. I was basically told to take the time that I needed, which was an amazing gift. They wanted to do more, but I initially thought there was little they could do from Burlington.

A few days after the flood, we realized that we needed to dry out the house, and do so quickly, if we wanted to escape the threat of mold and rot. Steve tried to locate some dehumidifiers – we had one before the flood, but it had been in the basement and thus was submerged and ruined – but the stores were all out and local friends’ machines were spread far and wide with so many wet houses. I put a call in to my department asking if anyone could loan us dehumidifiers or fans.

The next morning we got to our house to start working and found a big collection of dehumidifiers and fans sitting on our front porch. One of the attending physicians had shuttled around to department members’ homes to collect the machines and then driven down to deliver them to our home. I burst into tears at the sight: love in the time of Irene.

My program director showed up that afternoon with still more machines to loan. We had 10 dehumidifiers running 24/7 for more than a week. At first we were pulling in excess of 20 gallons of water each day out of the house. By the time we measured the moisture content of any wood it was down to 8%, which I think may have been drier than it was before the flood.

The FAHC Anesthesia Department played a big part in saving our home.

- Amy Odefey

Flooding and Family Memories

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(This story does not appear in When the River Rose.)

When Irene struck Waterbury, my wife Cathy and I were driving home from Minerva, Wisconsin. We had just attended the 40th wedding anniversary of my brother, Sid, and his wife, Cheryl. We were in touch with family and friends by cell phone and were aware of the flooding at our home at 21 Elm Street, which sits at the end of Elm Street and looks down Randall Street. Our daughter, Karen, and her husband, Todd Pudvar, made two trips to the house, one by kayak, to move many items upstairs. We were very thankful that they were able to save family albums and historical postcards. The flood waters came and left during the night, rising to a level of 29 inches on the first floor.

Family and friends had already removed much of the furniture and debris along with plaster and lath by the time we arrived home Monday night. The process of drying the interior and replacing the foundation continued over the next few weeks.

A couple of weeks in, my brother Sid drove out from his home in Watertown, Wisconsin to help with the work of restoring the house. For a week I worked with our son Steven, son-in-law Todd, and my brothers, Sid and Ray, restoring floors, removing siding, installing windows and doors. It was a great time working together sharing stories and seeing first hand the skill and dedication to the task.

Cathy and I are temporarily living with Karen and Todd, who own the old Flanders family home at 65 North Main Street. I tell folks I’m back in my old room, but the rules are different! Sid also stayed with us while he was here. It was like old times when we were growing up and living in that house and walking to school. The highlight of the week was on Thursday night when Karen and Todd hosted a family gathering. Cathy prepared a meal that was enjoyed by Ray and his wife Eloise, Sid, Karen and Todd, and family friend, Jan Gendreau, who had spent many hours cleaning at the house. Many wonderful stories of the times growing up together in the house at North Main Street were shared, resulting in much laughter!

We are ever thankful for the faithful help of family and friends and for the memories that will long be remembered, thanks to Irene, who created the opportunity for us to be together and to work together.

- Skip Flanders, assisted by Jan Gendreau

“Come Right Away”

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(This story does not appear in When the River Rose.)

I went to work the morning after the flood! We had been evacuated and stayed the night with our friends April and Zach Taylor on Perry Hill. I woke up early the next morning, and with little comprehension of what had just happened, swung down into the village on my way to work.

I saw Tom Stevens and Don Schneider, and a bunch of other folks I know, plus lots of media players, all standing near the Alchemist. They were gazing down Elm Street, which was still filled with water. I asked someone how Randall Street had fared and was told the Drakes had three feet of water in their first floor, which is on about the same level as my house. I had no idea what to do with that information, so I got back in my car and drove up to Fletcher Allen Health Care, where I was on a rotation in the Emergency Department. On the way I passed Bolton Flats, which was still filled with flood water, and the Richmond Park and Ride lot, which was also still flooded and had cars all jumbled up on top of each other.

I called my husband Steve then, knowing that he had been on his way to check on the house. I still thought we might just have some water in our basement, which had previously remained dry even during the heaviest of rainstorms.

I don’t know what I was thinking! He had just arrived at the house and all he could say was that it was really bad. A bit later he called me back and told me to come home right away. So I walked into the ED and told them I had to go home, which I did. Looking back, I just don’t understand why I behaved in such an illogical manner. It all seemed so unreal.

- Amy Odefey

Stairs on My Neighbor’s Car

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(This story does not appear in When the River Rose.)

As we started down Randall Street, I was struck by how many sets of stairs littered the street. Still, it wasn’t until I was just in front of my house and saw a set of stairs solidly perched on top of the roof of my neighbor’s car that it hit me: The river had made it into the first floor of our home.

- Heidi Hall

Keep Calm and Carry On

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(This story does not appear in When the River Rose.)

I reported to work on Monday, August 29th for my regularly scheduled night shift in the admissions office at the Vermont State Hospital in Waterbury. To my dismay the entire area of our building was destroyed. Everything – documents, equipment, furniture, etc. – was water logged and mud caked. It was a terrible sight, resembling a war zone. I learned the water rose to a depth of about a foot just below the ceiling.

This was a moment that stands out in my mind. It was not only a testament to the powerful force of Mother Nature, but also of how people come together in times of disaster and support their neighbors. It was a weird feeling to see the mess. I had been coming to the office for a couple of years, and I was now wondering, “What will the future bring?”

But seeing my co-workers pitch in, evacuate patients, and clean up – I knew the future could not be anything less than bright: We will all go on, we will survive, and this too shall pass! It reminded me of a logo from WW II that said, “Keep calm and carry on.”

- Robert Borkowski

In Water’s Wake

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(This poem does not appear in When the River Rose.)

The radio informs us,
sitting on our hill,
of rivers gone rogue
ripping through docile lands,
and warns low-lying dwellers
of imminent danger.

Our imaginations draw on the past
dread, rising with the water
memories laced with acrid odors, choking air
certain loss and death,
stinking, crushing walls of surging rage
a natural, unnatural stripping of identity.

The radio informs us,
helpless in our home,
of the neighborhood below —
people trapped, current too strong
as rivers tear through the landscape that sustains us
meadows, woodlands and well-trod pastures.

Our imaginations draw on the past
dread, rising with the water
while rivers shred the very valleys that have cradled them,
redefining roadways, swallowing old bridges
brutally carving through boundaries
unable to hold against the roaring destruction.

The radio informs us,
waiting and useless,
there may be more evacuations should dams need relief,
more towns cut off, more history swept downriver
though the water, furious and alarming, will quickly disperse —
unlike the heaps of lifetimes, tragically left in its wake.

- Susan Turner

Baseball Diamond Lake

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(This story does not appear in When the River Rose.)

It was about 7 p.m. on a rainy Sunday night. There wasn’t much going on except that the municipal manager stopped by to tell me that the end of our street had flooded.

This first sign of trouble concerned me enough that I decided to investigate further. I walked to the ball fields. They looked like a new lake had settled downtown where baseball diamonds lay just hours ago.

I made my way to the Congregational church where a makeshift shelter had already been set up. It was raining hard by then, but only two people had shown up, so I went home.

Forty-five minutes later I checked back with the church, which had taken in more than 30 “guests.” Then the church lost power and a decision was made to quickly evacuate to higher ground at the Thatcher Brook school.

- Natalie Howell Sherman

A Service Animal Is Born

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(This story does not appear in When The River Rose.)

After listening to WDEV and realizing that the river was rapidly rising – and already flooding one end of our road – we decided to evacuate. Our dog, Callie, who is almost 15 years old, deaf, arthritic and possibly a little neurotic, followed us around as we frantically pulled a few things together. We wouldn’t even think about leaving her behind, so we carried her to the car and fled the house.

When we arrived at the Best Western, which doesn’t accept animals, I checked us in while my husband waited in the car with the dog. It was just my luck: We got the last room, which was right off the main lobby.

So now I had to get creative and figure out how to sneak this dog into our room. Did I mention she doesn’t do leashes well? I snapped the leash on and looked into her cloudy eyes and told her she has a new job. It was being a service dog, so she had better walk quietly and gently beside me. Somehow she must have heard me because when I opened the door to the main lobby she trotted along beside like she had been doing this for years!

Of course all the people in the lobby, along with all the National Guard there, looked at us. I felt like a spotlight was shinning on us as I just squared my shoulders, looked straight ahead and marched on through the crowd and down the hallway to our room. Of course dogs need to go outside periodically, so several times I had to repeat this little performance.

I was very glad that when we checked out, the man at the desk, who had watched all this the night before, only said to me, “You know we don’t accept dogs here.”

I quickly replied, “Yes, I know, but she is a service animal.”

And with a wink and grin we departed.

- Delina Benway