I’m late to the party with this one, but…not long ago, it was shaping up to look like the most generic premise of a frightening story, ever. Rather than a dark and stormy night, it was a dark and stormy afternoon, and eventually night. It was getting dark, the sky had clouded over, and I wanted to take a break from what I was working on, on my computer.
I left the computer running because I had some good tunes playing, made a cup of coffee and cracked open Stephen King’s Under the Dome. About 15 minutes later, the rain was practically spilling into the streets. Thunder was rumbling and cracking — to the point of actually being startling.
I raced outside to pull the propane tank for my barbecue inside, just after a lightning bolt struck the power pole across the street, with an ear-shattering pop. When I got back inside, the power was gone. About five minutes later, the streets began to flood. We all know what Sunday afternoon and evening I’m referring to.
It was one of the first times I’d actually physically seen lighting strike that close to me, and the first flood during which I pondered whether to wait it out in my apartment or seek higher ground. Clearly, I was exaggerating the threat the storm posed to myself, but the same doesn’t apply to the assorted motorists on the road when the storm struck, and the small legion of homeowners cleaning up the mess that storm left with them, and the people who were tasked with helping out during the flood.
It’s times like that, however, that reveal how resilient people here really can be. I haven’t been writing news for a long time, but the weekend of the 10th was one of only a few times I’ve been able to see, firsthand, how resilient people can be in the face of a crisis.
The last time I was able to see how well people can stay calm and help others, without a beat, as efficiently as I have seen in the last couple of weeks here in Estevan, was in St. Paul Alberta, in the wake of a shooting and subsequent shootout that shook the small community.
There’s something heroic about the way people can stand up for each other during hard times, and that has been abundantly on display in Estevan over the past couple of weeks.
There are a handful of people who are, without a doubt, deserving of some accolades. Everyone who immediately sprung into action, with the City of Estevan, the Estevan Fire Rescue Service, the Estevan Police Service, the Estevan RCMP, the Red Cross, the Salvation Army and many other organizations that have offered their help, doubling down and cleaning up the mess Mother Nature left around town…but that’s not all.
A whole plethora of people helping out are from out of province, giving up huge amounts of time just for us, and some of the bravest people were those who were not affiliated with any formal group. They were just quick to respond in a moment of danger, putting themselves before others.
Within 20 minutes of the flooded chaos beginning on 13th Avenue, the point from which I saw the flood’s damages, there were people— just regular average Joes and Janes—hopping out of their own vehicles, wading into the waist-deep water and helping others move their immobile vehicles to safety. By the time that happened there were a number of people without enough ground clearance in their vehicles to pass the most deeply flooded part of the street.
I don’t know who any of those good Samaritans were, because I was too busy counting my lucky stars that I live in an apartment that’s above ground level, but whoever you were, a kudos to you all.
Given how busy insurance brokers are, and how many claims there are, for a gamut of damages relating to the storm, it’s a given that the flood is going to have something of an unwelcome legacy. But like in the face of the flood, what I see in Estevan is a network of people who give a darn about others.
And that, barring anything else, is the most important thing to have in the face of adversity and hardship. I’m not going to lie — it makes me pretty proud to live here.
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