Hey, remember that time?

I find it crazy to think this whole ordeal is not over yet. What once seemed a glamorous volunteering opportunity quickly transformed into a disaster zone. We are no longer living in an area of despair, but the damage remains prevalent. We have quite a bit of work to do cleaning up - it seems like every day, I find a new dike! They are seemingly everywhere. It will be interesting to return to the area in August and find out how many repairs are complete.

The Concordia campus is controversially known for both its liberal and conservative leanings. It seems as though the campus is split - conservative economically, liberal socially. However, I have observed a small, yet growing, group of socially conservative students. This group dresses appropriately, acts appropriately, and presents itself appropriately overall.

Our entire community has turned socially conservative in terms of swearing and topics of discussion. We have a new "f" word here, and it is not allowed in conversation. While this subject ran our lives for several weeks, it is now considered obnoxious and unacceptable to bring it up at the dinner table or in lecture.

For over a week, all I thought about was sandbagging. I did not consider my daily worries such as homework, friends, family, etc. I woke up each morning and did not question my schedule for the day - nothing could matter more. All I could think about was when I would be able to get out and sandbag some more. I was constantly considering which areas of town would need the most help and which would be the quickest route there. I had the number for Sandbag Central memorized and random addresses scribbled on the palm of my hand. My clothes were covered in mud - the socks I put on each morning were rock hard, saturated with clay and sand. I did not eat a whole lot, because most of my meals came from the back of Red Cross trucks. I went five days without showering, and the same period without washing my hands. I was repulsive, but dedicated.

For weeks, this permeated our discussion to an unbelievable extent. Anyone - friend, foe, near, or far - would talk about the crest prediction, the height of the contingency dikes, the number and weight of sandbags, etc. Now, on the other hand, a sudden hush has come about the area. No one wants to discuss what happened. If a speaker decides to lecture about it, members of the audience will get up and leave. If anyone attempts to bring it up in conversation, friends shudder and have a countenance of disgust.

It is hard to talk about, yes. I understand. However, I feel it is imperative for us to keep others in our thoughts and prayers. As an ex-psychology major, I hope I learned something about the field. We cannot keep pretending it did not happen, and we need to talk about it to help ourselves move on. Repressed memories hurt more than regular memories, and we can stop that from happening. It was an intense two weeks, and we are not done yet. Let's keep fighting!

P.S. Can you believe I wrote this entire post without using the word "flood?" Oh wait, I just did! Darn.