Kerrie´s Story

                                                                                                                                                                                          
                                      
                             Wes and Kerrie Constance February 2008

      I woke up on Dec. 3, 2007 to the phone ringing.  Our close friend and upstream neighbor, Mike, called to ask if he should be concerned about the swollen river.  I repeated to him the KATU News report.  According to them, the heavy rains would not cause the kind of destruction Vernonia experienced in 1996.  Those of us, like Wes and I, who experienced the 1996 floods rebuilt our homes on foundations well above the 1996 high water mark and therefore welcomed KATU´s news report that this storm would not be as bad.

 
      Shortly after that unexpected 6:00 am wake-up call, I got out of bed and looked outside towards the river and across our back pastures.  The water was up to the bank and did not look unusual for this time of year. 

            
      I was unaware that the river had begun to swell a foot a minute as I fixed breakfast. The river was up to the front dike and rising by the next time I peeked out the window.

      At that moment, panic hit full force.  I had not seen the river raging that high since the flood in 1996.  I yelled at Wes to shut off the drain pipe under the dike in the hopes that this action would keep the water from flooding our land.  By the time he hit the front door, water was 4-6 inches deep along our front driveway.  Wes and I worked like dogs in his shop to get his tools out of the water and onto tables.  The flood would later rise to within 7 inches of the 12 ft high rafters in our shop rendering our efforts useless.

           
      My elderly mother, Elsie, slept in the house while Wes and I continued to work in our tennis shoes.  Elsie has lived with us for the last 6 years.

      By 10:00 A.M. the water had risen over the dike and was heading up the road.  I ran into the house and woke mom up.  I told her I was going to help her get dressed because we needed to leave the house NOW!  She knew by the tone in my voice that this was no joking matter. 

           
      To my surprise, I heard our neighbor Ernie Smith and his son calling out to us.  They had come with a boat to take us back to their home.  The water was now high enough to float the ramp that leads to our elevated front door.  Wes, Elsie, our dogs and I made it safely into the boat.  The trip to higher ground was silent.  The time was now 10:45A.M.

      Once at the neighbor´s home, we joked and laughed and ate a sandwich.  The water continued to rise but we all felt a false sense of security.  The Smith´s home was both on higher ground and, like our home, had been raised several feet above 1996´s high water mark.

      There was no more laughter by early afternoon.  Water had started entering the home through the heating ducts. The men raised Elsie and her recliner onto buckets to keep her as dry as possible.  The rest of us sat on soggy sofas.  Shortly after the water began to enter the home, the electricity went out.  The power going out was the first real sign that this storm was going to be much more severe than the one in 1996.  In 1996, we never lost power.

      By dusk the house was dark and cold.  The water continued to get deeper and the Smith´s children were sent to bed.  Elsie had fallen uncharacteristically silent and Wes and I were having a hard time staying warm.  We both have Fibromyalgia but Wes was also recovering from a botched back surgery so I surrendered all the blankets to him.

      Darkness finally fell.  I was sitting on the back of the sofa with my feet up to my knees in water and holding Pickles, my Jack Russell Terrier.  I was thankful when darkness fell because it meant that I could finally cry without being seen. 

           
      2:30 A.M. was the most fearful hour.  The whole scene seemed to be straight out of an Alfred Hitchcock film.  The river had broken a structure loose that swirled toward us and literally hit the backside of the house.  The house groaned and shuttered before the windows exploded from the twisting of the walls.  Cracks began to open the home up and all prayed to God to please keep this house together and Elsie and the children safe. 

      By 3:30 A.M. the water began to recede.  I may have actually fallen asleep for a few stolen minutes because I caught myself falling off the couch.  When daybreak was upon us, we heard a low engine rumble and found the National Guard and state police headed towards the Smith´s house.  They loaded us into their vehicles and took mom out on a stretcher.  

      I was scared when I looked at Wes.  He was pale and trembling.  My worries for him and Elsie over shadowed any pain I was having at the time.  I made a commitment to be strong for them.  That commitment would be tested beyond belief over the next few days.

      The National Guard told us they were taking us to a doctor.  As we pulled out of the driveway I got the first glance of my property. Our home had been ripped from the foundation and moved 200 yards down the road.  Everything we owned was ruined or swept away.

           
      Dr. Phyllis Gilmore tended to Wes when we got to the medics.  He was having chest pains and tried to brush them off as part of his Fibromyalgia. 

      That night we camped out in a friend´s basement.

      The next day we went to assess the damage to our property.  The waters were 6-10 feet higher than they had been in 1996.  They were five feet high inside our home and 14 inches of mud covered everything.

      As Wes and I walked hand in hand up to our home and shop all I could do was cry.  Wes started making plans for putting our lives back together.

           
      Mike, the neighbor who woke us up the day of the flood, and most likely saved our lives, came over with his son.  They helped us make a temporary shelter we would later name "Headquarters".

           
      The magnitude of the damage and loss was overwhelming.  When we were flooded in 1996 Wes and I were both ten years younger and didn't have the health issues we have today.  But our lives, our land, our business and all the memories Wes, Elsie and I share are still here.  We made the decision to rebuild in 1996 and we will rebuild again in 2008. 

      We believed that we would be getting insurance money for 2007 flood damage.  We paid diligently on a $125,000 flood replacement policy for the last ten years. We had registered the home we lived in complete with age, model and other paperwork in 1996.  I contacted FEMA the day after the flood and was one of the first to call.

      When I got back to the basement after viewing the damages, Elsie was very sick and had to be taken to the hospital.  I went to visit her and while I was there Wes had a major heart attack and was rushed to St. Vincent Hospital in Portland.

      Wes was able to come back to our temporary home in our friend´s basement four days after surgery.  He had a terrible stomach ache that resulted in an ambulance ride back to the hospital that night.  He was back in surgery and laid up in the hospital for another week.

           
      I was left to manage on my own.  Many of Wes´ expensive, specialty tools walked off the property with looters and FEMA informed us that they would not be replacing our home or paying the insured amount.  Their reason for denying us was simple.  Our registered home, the one for which they had collected monthly payments for 10 years was deemed too old to be of any value.

      I can't count the times that I cried and then got so mad I just wanted to shut the door on the whole world after FEMA denied our claim.  The worst part, however, was being without my husband or my mom. The flood insurance company had the gall to tell us that if we would like to fight them in court they have the ability to drag the proceedings out for 20 some odd years. 

      Now, a couple of months later, I am afraid for Elsie.  It seems the flood has traumatized her and set in dementia.  At the time of this writing, I am attempting to get her an appointment with a specialist.

      The Lord is good, however, and delivered to me a new friend, Linda Eaton.  She asked me to write my flood story and has organized efforts to help us clean up the destruction.  She is helping in so many ways.

       After Wes´ heart attack he developed a bad time with depression.  He has begun to turn around in the last three weeks health wise.  He has vision and sees the purpose and goals we both must achieve.   

      So here we are.  Three adults, four dogs, and three cats now living in the barn on our property that Linda and her volunteers helped us clean up.  We are working on rebuilding the shop first so Wes can get back to work and maybe make enough money to get a second hand home.  I am worried about next winter and having the resources we need to persevere.  Wes and I have the heart and passion to put our lives back together.  I have faith that we will overcome this trying time.