Hurricanes, Storms, and Floods

Chuck Brodsky, is a folk singer/song writer who lives in Ashville, NC, that was recently devastated by the hurricane. Yesterday, he was interviewed on a radio station in Bethlehem, PA.  The DJ asked him if he had written anything about the hurricane. He said he was working on one, but it wasn't ready yet.  He was still working on the words and wasn't yet happy with the music.  However, the DJ convinced him to play it. Today, Chuck shared the recording with some of his friends and patrons. For me, it brought back a flood of memories that prompted this blog post

I was 11 years old when Hurricane Hazel destroyed much of our chicken farm.  We were chasing chickens cleaning up the debris for weeks. There were no injuries of lives lost there in South Jersey, and as a preteen it was an adventure, more than a tragedy.

Seven years later, we were hit by a three-day nor’easter. We were about 25 miles inland and only got soaked, but the coast wasn’t as lucky. Long Beach Island (LBI), which was 18 miles long and only three blocks wide, was devastated. On the third day, at high tide, the water cut the island into three pieces, flooding the entire area, killing 32 people who ignored evacuation warnings, and causing millions of dollars in damage. About 80% of the homes and businesses on the island were either destroyed or severely damaged.

Again, as a teenager, I had heard about it and seen it on the news, but it might as well be a million miles away from Richland.

 

A dozen years later, I found myself teaching 5th-grade science on LBI. During a unit on the digestive system, the kids were struggling to grasp the material. At the time, I knew about six guitar chords and decided to write a song about a fly named Charlie who flew down the throat of the manager of a Chicken Delite. Charlie was “the fly who never returned,” and naturally, it was set to the tune of the Kingston Trio’s M.T.A. The kids loved it, and when I gave them a test, I noticed some of them quietly singing the song to themselves. That’s when I realized I was onto something.

That one song led to about 2 dozen more, a few performances, a presentation at the state teacher’s conference, and even an invitation from the local community college to conduct workshops on songwriting for kids. Most of my songs were tied to curriculum topics, but I had written a few personal ones that either never saw the light of day or were shared only with my wife and kids. There was one exception, though.

My wife’s cousin, Bobby, was a Pennsylvania state trooper. Bobby was a big guy, and nothing seemed to rattle him. During his time in Naval Intelligence, he received a commendation for quick actions during an electrical fire on a communications plane. The report described how the plane dropped 10,000 feet so quickly that the changes in pressure and temperature caused rain and snow inside the cabin as he chopped out electrical circuits.

When I asked him why he refused the commendation, he shrugged and said, “I didn’t do it for the Navy. I did it to save my ass.” Bobby later became an FBI agent and earned other commendations, but I only saw him shaken once. That was after he was sent to Johnstown, Pennsylvania, the day after six dams on the Conemaugh River failed and flooded the town.



When I spoke with him a week later, he described the devastation in a way that showed how deeply it had affected him. He was in awe of the water’s power. Bobby had taken about six dozen photos of the aftermath and sent me copies. As he walked me through each picture, I took notes, realizing that his firsthand account of a national news story could help my students understand the incredible force of water on a personal level.

Using his photos and words, I created a slideshow and narrative about what happened, how it happened, and its aftermath. Unlike my other songs, this one wasn’t inspired by the curriculum but by raw emotion. I performed it once during a school-wide assembly and never played it again.

The Flood of '77

The Conemaugh River was quiet and calm
But nature would make it her slave.
And the heat of the day and the wind through the trees
Led the way to a watery grave.

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CHORUS-*
Many were killed and many were lost
And many must live with their fears.
We will never forget what happened that night.
Now the Valley is flooded with tears.
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It started to rain on that hot summer night.
The lightning turned night into day.
The water came down like never before.
And terror was heading this way.

CHORUS-

Just under 12 inches would fall through the night.
Ten hours was all it would take.
The water roared down from the mountains so high
Like a horrible, venous snake.
 
CHORUS-

The dams took their fill, but they just couldn't hold.
And by dawn six dams were to spill.
The waters would crush and the water would rip
And the waters would maim and would kill.

CHORUS-

This flood's not the first and it won't be the last
And the many who cheated the grave
Are safe 'till the time when nature will make
The Conemaugh river her slave.