How Do You Respond?

At about 6:00 a.m. Monday morning, just south of town, a 51 year old mother and wife, on her way to work, headed around a curve and down a familiar hill, right into a newly-formed body of deep and swift-moving water. Eight inches of melted snow had combined with an all-night driving rain to swell and flood the creeks and rivers of northern Ohio. Her Volkswagen convertible was buoyant enough to be carried 300 yards down the now-raging water, but within a very few minutes it sank in more than twelve feet of water.

The driver made a 911 call, and the dispatcher, by all accounts, handed the call well, sending rescue personnel on their way immediately. Eventually, three fire departments responded, as well as other emergency personnel and the state department of natural resources.

I understand that the sirens of the approaching vehicles could be heard near the end of the 911 call. Search procedures were begun, until the water craft rescue effort had to be called off because of the danger imposed by the unusually swift currents. Sadly, although personnel continued the search on land and, when allowed, by water, even searching under flood lights overnight, the car could not be located and hoisted out of the water until first light the next morning, when the receding water revealed the location of the car.

I have heard that rescue personnel have not taken this event easily, and I am sure there is a lot of second-guessing and "what-if's" going around. It appears, though, that the entire event was handled as well as possible, and that decisions (such as whether the driver should stay in the car or attempt to swim for shore) were made wisely, based on all known facts at each moment.

What I found extraordinary is how the community responded to Monday's tragedy. Calling hours were held at a local funeral home on Thursday night, and those in line waited as long as three hours to pay their condolences. On-line condolences poured in, and the next morning's funeral service was moved to our church sanctuary to accommodate the large number of attendees. Clearly, a large portion of those who came to the visitation did not know the woman or her family. It just felt right, to them, to go.

This was one of those events that touched nearly everyone in the community. The woman was a well-liked nurse at our region's best-known cancer center. I do not recall ever meeting the unfortunate woman, but her mother lives on our street. In smaller communities, virtually everyone seems to be, at most, two or three degrees of separation from everyone else so, like the REM song says, everybody hurts. I believe it is safe to say that it was a tough week for everyone in town.

I just realized that I have no real conclusion or ending for this post. I guess it is just an observation about how people can be touched - painfully, sometimes - by the things we have in common, and by the value and honor we can ascribe to someone's life, whether we know them or not.