Sandbagging the Delta

In the fall of 1992, the stage began to be set for a flood that would eventually devastate farms, towns, and livelihoods along the Mississippi River Valley during the summer months of 1993. As the waters rose throughout the Central U.S., people took action, not just to save their homes, but also the homes of others.

Of all the stories I read of people helping others, one man summed it up nicely. He said, “I was 20-21 at the time and saw what one person could do for many.” (1) As a Meteorologist, I don’t enjoy seeing devastation from weather events, but what never grows old is the way people come together to help others. Time and time again I’ve watched people help each other no matter what their race, religion, or economic status is. The damaging effects of weather are somehow slightly brightened by people putting aside their differences to help a fellow human being out. Listen to some of these accounts from the summer of 1993…

“I spent most of that summer sandbagging, filling sandbags and going to where help was needed.”

“… A friend and I joined about 10 strangers and off we went to sandbag.”

“A call went out to volunteer on the wall in Germania, so I went. This wall was big, had pumps behind it to relieve pressure, and we were defending dozens of homes. … Easily 30-plus people were on the line moving thousands of bags. Anyone could have been on that line, from high school drop-outs to college graduates. The only thing that we had in common is that we all stunk of sweat and smelled the ripe water on the other side of the wall.”

“I spent every evening from 8 p.m. to 2 a.m. sandbagging” (1)

 

Words like “strangers” and “only thing in common…” stand out to me. People were helping each other whether they knew them or not. Humanity helping humanity. It’s a sight to behold and is a thing of beauty.

Tomorrow, August 1^st, is the anniversary of the peak river stage along the Mississippi River near St. Louis, and it got me thinking of how I could help my fellow man and woman in this flood of COVID. My wife and I decided to get vaccinated earlier this year and “sandbag” our home, so to speak. But, I feel like our help doesn’t stop there.

It appears that the Delta variant of COVID is like a renewed rise in flood waters, putting certain communities at risk once again. I had hoped the flood waters were receding for good, but it appears that may not be the case. Just like people coming together during the summer of 1993, I don’t just want to ask what I can do to help my house. I want to find ways to help the community as well. My home may be at lower risk of impact, but this is a community-wide fight.

So with that, my wife and I have decided to start wearing masks in public once again, not in fear and not because it’s required, but in support of our community. We care for our community and want to do our part to help fight against the potential renewed flooding that is COVID and the Delta variant.

At this point, I hear some probably questioning whether COVID is as big of a problem as some make it out to be. I hear you on that, and sometimes I wonder that myself. However, as a Meteorologist, I regularly see people not take certain weather events seriously, sometimes with devastating consequences (this storm won’t be as bad as the last one, tornadoes never strike here, etc). Some even laugh it off (ever heard of hurricane parties?).

Unfortunately, we don’t have the luxury of knowing in advance exactly what will happen with a weather event or with the Delta variant. And so we each have to make a decision on how to prepare. But, I believe that the decision doesn’t stop with us. We may not all agree on the severity or impact of COVID, we may not all share the same race, religion, or political background, but we do all share one thing…we are all part of humanity. So, maybe the question we should ask ourselves is what can I do for my community? My wife and I have asked that question and made our decision, and will continue to re-evaluate that decision. Will you join us and do the same? I’m not asking others to make the same decision we did, but I would challenge those reading this to ask what is best for your community during this time. Just like during the Flood of ’93, helping your community may be uncomfortable, annoying, and inconvenient. But, in the end, humanity helping humanity is a beautiful thing and has a way of turning enemies into friends. 

My hope is that we, as a human race, will find a way to come together during this time, community helping community, neighbor helping neighbor, thinking not only of ourselves and our personal rights, but of others, too. What an amazing opportunity we have.

References

(1) “Readers Share their Memories of the Flood of 1993”. St Louis Post Dispatch, 11 August 2013. https://www.stltoday.com/news/local/metro/readers-share-their-memories-of-the-flood-of-1993/article_9982bbaf-8981-5b4b-adb1-4a6b11653b75.html. Accessed 31 July 2021.

Reflections on 2020

I began this past year with a review of the previous ten years…a decade in review of sorts, looking at noteworthy weather events (as voted on #wxtwitter). That review seems like so long ago. It’s almost as if writing a review of this past year is like writing another decade in review. Looking ahead to 2020 quickly became how-fast-can-we-get-through-2020. A year highlighted by a lot of negatives was given its own hashtag (#2020). And, in case you didn’t know, tweets with that appended to it weren’t the most encouraging. I often try to find the light in the middle of the forest, while not diminishing the existence of the struggle to get through the trees. Below is my attempt at this perspective as I think back on 2020…

It’s striking to me how we, as a people, bounced around with how to handle the incoming pandemic, then more or less settled into a groove. Out-of-the-box ideas, pre-COVID, suddenly became hugely important. Within the NWS, I’ve watched as telework and virtual meetings have gone from occasional use to how-did-we-survive-without-this? It’s like life after 88D radars (how did you even issue warnings before?). COVID has brought some changes to operations that will probably stick with us for the foreseeable future, many of those positive.

A layer of virtualness in operations has its pros, but at times it also leaves something to be desired (at least it has for me). I’m incredibly grateful for technology and the ability to still “see” people face to face (imagine COVID in the 1980s…yikes). Where it has been tough, at times, is missing the day to day, in-person interactions. Some have probably loved COVID’s change in operations since it has made it more quiet in the office (nothing wrong with that), but that’s not me. I really enjoy being in an office full of people. Pre-COVID, I was always was a little bummed about working weekends, not because everyone else in the world is off, but because the office is lighter on faces. Every day now is a weekend. Like with telework and virtual meetings, though, it has become normal and I’ve settled into the groove of never-ending weekend shifts. Don't tell anyone, but sometimes the quiet of the new normal is nice, especially with the noise of four young children at home :)

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention those on permanent telework. I miss having a full office, but at least I get to go into the office and see a few people on a regular basis. There are those, in the weather community, who haven’t been in an office on a regular basis in almost a year. That’s hard to imagine, and I want to fully acknowledge the difficulties of that, especially for those who would rather be in an office with people.

2020 was a learning curve for operations in the middle of a pandemic, but I gotta say…I’m really impressed with how the agency just settled into a groove to keep our service going. It’s so neat to watch people improvise and find a way to make things happen. I’ve seen that in high-impact weather events in years past and I’ve watched it again with COVID. A previous forecaster in our office used to grace us with a hearty “NEAAATTT!!”, and I echo that sentiment as I think back on the flexibility of operations over the past year.

While COVID and politics (don’t worry, I won’t go there) have taken much of 2020’s stage, weather certainly made many attempts to grab some air time. For starters, tornadoes weren’t all that fond of the Plains, and instead chose locations like Oregon and Maine. The NWS Wichita office’s lack of tornadoes in 2020 made a nice, little doughnut hole in the Plains, with a scattering of tornadoes in surrounding states. 

Really, it was the Lower Mississippi and Tennessee River Valleys that saw some incredible activity. Remember that tornado in MS with debris lofted downstream that was visible on radar? 

On a personal note, the Chattanooga tornado sticks out to me the most as that is where I spent my early childhood, and is where a large portion of my family still resides. Watching a debris signature so clearly evident over a city like that always carries some weight, but this one was different for me. I can count on one hand the number of times I have called my Grandparents and told them to get to the closet…this year makes #2 (the first was during the 4/27/11 tornado outbreak). Fortunately, my family all survived this year’s tornado, but one family member had significant damage in their neighborhood, including their house. Among other damage, a tree split their house in half, and landed the next room over from where they were seeking shelter. That debris signature on radar probably included parts of their house and neighborhood. Seeing a signature like that on radar and then waiting to hear from people…not a great feeling. But, what a relief after hearing all were spared!

Other notable events that stick out to me are the Midwest Derecho (can't get enough of those YouTube videos and how the wind just wouldn't stop) and the insanely active Atlantic Hurricane season. I kinda just thought that the 2020 hurricane season would simply merge into 2021. It’s amazing Louisiana is still on the map.

As quiet as the weather has been here in southern Kansas, I almost feel a little sheltered from the big weather events that other offices, and areas of the country, had to deal with in the middle of COVID. On a side note, I would love to hear from anyone who has worked in some of those big events this past year and how COVID played a role (operations, messaging, etc.). Feel free to comment below or hit me up on Twitter!

Looking ahead to 2021, I’d say I’m cautiously optimistic. I tend to see life from the glass is half full perspective, and I’d say I’m still in that camp as I look forward. But, like with the uncertainties in an approaching winter storm, I’m less confident on what to expect. I will say, however, when I think about the weather community I so enjoy being a part of, I feel confident that a passion for what we do will still be there. COVID and politics seem to be the wild cards, but I don’t foresee those stopping what we do.

If I’ve learned anything from this year that I can take into the next, it would probably be to worry less about what others think. Being mindful, and considerate, of others is one thing, but it’s something else when focusing on others’ opinions too much leads to unhealthy decision making, or an unhealthy view of myself. Think of it this way…some of the people we most want to have positive opinions of us are the very people we may hurt the most by not being honest or by not being ourselves. I like to use Key Takeaways in weather messaging, and this was my personal key takeaway from 2020. What about you? What’s your key takeaway(s)? Is there anything from 2020 that sticks out to you as a point of improvement going into 2021?

I don’t really know how to end a post like this that doesn’t sound corny or lacking sincerity/originality, so I’ll make my best attempt. I truly hope 2021 has some great moments for you. If 2020 was full of bad, I hope the good outweighs the negatives in 2021. I hope areas of weakness can be strengthened. Lastly, I really hope for improved relationships and the return of common ground (where it has been lost). COVID and politics really seemed to cause some separation. While that may not fully change, my hope is that we can find common ground to stand on and work from. We don’t all have to agree on everything, but I still believe we can work together effectively and respectfully. I believe the environment we can create in that scenario can help us face whatever challenges the future holds.

“We all do better when we work together. Our differences do matter, but our common humanity matters more.” - Bill Clinton

Hurricane COVID

August 23rd, 2005. Yet another tropical system, in an active 2004-2005 period, begins getting better organized over the Bahamas. At 5 pm, the first advisory comes out from the National Hurricane Center (NHC) for Tropical Depression 12.

 
That depression would eventually go on to become the devastating, Hurricane Katrina. What some may not know, or remember, is that Katrina wasn't always expected to have as big of an impact along the north-central Gulf Coast. Two days after becoming better organized, model guidance seemed to be honing in on a possible Gulf Coast landfall near, or just west, of the Florida Big Bend area. This would have been well east of the New Orleans/Biloxi/Mobile areas.

I remember one of my Meteorology professors saying at the end of class that week that they would see us all on Monday (I was going to college at the University of South Alabama in Mobile at the time). I never sensed much doubt in the room as it appeared it would make the northward turn shortly after emerging off the west coast of Florida. After class, I went to work at the grocery story I'd been working at since starting college. With the storm forecast to pass well east of Mobile, I expected a mostly normal day, with perhaps some increase in customers with the storm in the vicinity.

Around 4 or 5 that afternoon, something happened. There was a noticeable increase in customers coming into the store. We always had an evening rush as people got off work, but this was different. There were literal streams of people pouring in from the parking lot. It's one of many images etched in my mental photo library from that  hurricane. All of us at the store soon found out why...

Katrina wasn't making that northward turn yet. The delayed turn caused the track to shift further west. The 4 pm CT advisory from the NHC now forecast Katrina to run right into Mobile. That change in the forecast sent residents of Mobile into a whole other level of preparedness. By Sunday morning, August 28, the first visible satellite images of Katrina were absolutely stunning...and worrisome.

Katrina was now a Category 5 hurricane with max sustained winds of 175 mph! The level of preparedness on Friday, August 26th was noticeable, but that level increased even more once people saw the whites of her eye that Sunday morning.

As it relates to COVID-19 (I'll call it COVID for short), I feel like the United States is currently somewhere between the Sunday morning Category 5 image of Katrina and the Monday morning landfall.

There have been preparations and actions taken across the U.S. in recent weeks, but the past few days feel like a whole other level of action. The medical field is outside my expertise, but like Katrina, it seems like something has triggered this recent uptick in response...something equivalent to seeing a category 5 hurricane approaching the coastline.

Human response to weather is something we, as Meteorologists, deal with on a regular basis and it's interesting how similar the response seems to be during non-weather disasters. When COVID started getting more attention, some probably took action right away, while others have waited until seeing the worsening forecast (like Mobile residents seeing Katrina's forecast track shift right over them). And then you still have those that wait to respond until those worrisome "category 5" images appear. For COVID, that might be like seeing a friend or family member get sick (or worse), or watching how bad things have gotten in other countries (like Italy).

In every hurricane I went through while living in Mobile, there was always this anticipatory waiting period. Whatever level of preparation you took, there came a time when preparation mostly ceased, and everyone was left to ride it out and watch it all unfold. I feel like the U.S. is getting into that wait-and-see period. Last-minute preparations are still ongoing, but many seem to be hunkering down for the longer haul.

The "outer bands" of COVID have already reached our shores...now we wait for "landfall". The tough part of waiting is you don't know how it will all turn out. Katrina changed the landscape of the Gulf Coast. What will COVID do? I don't mean that to sound dire or dramatic. It's simply the reality of waiting. It could be as bad as some forecast, or the forecasts could be wrong.

What my family and I have learned from all of the big weather events we've experienced is to take each one seriously, while finding that balance between fear and wisdom. I didn't plan well before Katrina and I paid a price. There probably is a healthy line between preparing and over-preparing, but I'd rather find myself on the over prepared side than the under prepared.

One of the great things I've seen in so many weather events is how people, businesses, and communities put their differences and financial needs aside and come together to help each other. I've already seen that with COVID and it's very encouraging. Once this storm passes, I believe we will look back and see numerous stories of people helping people...that there is still good sprinkled throughout humanity. Weather the storm, then watch for those opportunities as they arise.

There will be hard times in the coming weeks and months, but as a community, we have the choice to come together in preparedness, then come together in recovery. I've seen it work before and after hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods...and I hope to see it after COVID.