Unbased First Published on 11/04/2015
A stick. Tool handle. I think broken from an abused ice scraper/ chopper. One end fatter, jaggedy where it broke originally. Other rounded end sawed off diagonally. Old handle was sized to fit the opening of Moorefield Examiner’s front door. Jammed between door frame and door, it freed a person from opening that door every time someone carried flood damaged material through.
Bottom two drawers in every file cabinet carried through that door and dumped by Main Street curb. Loaders would clear debris later. Everything too damaged by flood of 1985 to be further useful went out.
Flood mud. We learned it moved better when wet and soupy. Hoses kept it from drying out. Squeegees from Salvation Army moved it best. Melvin Shook, Jr. now Hardy County School’s Director of Transportation was head of advertising at the Examiner back then. If you ever need a squeegee pusher in worst way, call Melvin. He is an absolute Master.
Night of November forth, 1985. Water rising, people evacuating, firemen in the streets. Who knew how high the water would get? I carried as much of the Moorefield Examiner up to the second floor as I could. Big bound books of old issues, contents of our company safe, essential business records, and most importantly all our circulation labels and records. Without a list of subscribers we’d have no way to distribute our newspaper even if I was able to save enough to stay in business.
I stalled on photo typesetting machines. Too big and heavy. Couldn’t even lift them onto desk tops. Though they worked several months after being wetted, Electrical Engineer, Larry Kuykendall said they were slated to die. Thus the Moorefield Examiner became forth newspaper in West Virginia to begin desktop publishing on Macintosh computers. Grant County Press and Parson’s Advocate both preceded us in switching, because they’d totally lost all typesetting capability during the flood.
I stood on our basement steps with broom and flashlight in hand watching water rising through floor drains, creeping up basement wall to bottom of main electrical breaker box. On the step beside me, a glass gallon jug of grape moonshine. Left hand, I picked up the jug, right hand broom handle broke electrical connection at main breaker and I left the house to its fate.
Last thing I did that night was climb steps to Rocky Raines’ apartment behind the Examiner. Rocky was flagging traffic North End of Old Fields bridge and couldn’t get home. Rocky’s wife, Betty was still up in the second floor apartment. I begged her to come out with me. She wouldn’t. Said “Prissy wouldn’t be satisfied anywhere else.” Prissy was her dog. How horrifyingly scary it must have been that night up there listening to her oil tank tear away from the wall below her door, floating logs banging against outside walls, roar of collapsing concrete block walls nearby, exploding electrical transformers, shattering plate glass windows. Betty was every bit as tough as Rocky, who fought through two wars, World War Two and Korea.
Side yard between house and Examiner building. Chain link fence to keep our children close under mother’s watchful eye and keeping marauding pets out. A sandbox in one corner I’d built from 2×10 inch lumber. November 6th I noticed sandbox was gone, washed away under that fence which remained. A small red wagon, handle up, beside the box loaded with a child load of three or four sticks of wood still rested, apparently unmoved by rushing water. A nearby pile of winter wood supply was gone too.
Last Friday I stood against a customer counter at the Examiner regaling staff with flood war stories. My door propping stick came to mind. I’d seen it not long ago in back shop corner propped with other long handled tools. I paused, retrieved and tried it. Still fits. I gave it to daughter, Hannah, for safe keeping until they need it again.
