Of floods and men

The rains poured and as I was driving to work that Saturday, I thought I was back home driving through tire high waters after missing out on a right turn through the mall's first entrance. It was a non stop rain which flooded many main streets and of course, Des Plaines where son JB kept watch as flood waters rose with the river.

He sent pictures of his street and back yard. Flooding in the basement was nil from floor upwards but the insidious water came through the basement windows causing a waterfall down his walls. Lynn and JB had fun sand bagging the windows . A few years back, when faced with the first flood threat where all his in-laws were calling him asking if they were OK or if they needed help, he asked me why he wasn't panicking like everyone else, just like this time. That's because back home at 527 mariano marcos in San Juan (once 159 Ortega St,) floods came and went at least 3 times a year in our one story house. As far back as I can remember, floods were common place. We were lucky if it was a Yoling type typhoon where strong winds gusted ( I remember the eerie yellow light during a calm moment when we were in the eye of the typhoon and the following blast as it moved away) rather than the Sening typhoon where mom woke up to go bathroom and stepped into knee deep waters. Sometimes, we were able to put our beds on wooden horses, but most of the time, we had to dry out moldy mildewed beds the next sunny day. Patty and I would swim to the gate and watch bancas and motor boats ply the streets. When the kids were born, the riverside became a bit murkier and darker so we had to palm them off to friends up the street. In our unassuming quiet neighborhood street,big name people lived like the Robert Ocas, Ibazetas, and finally up the street, the official residence of Ferdinand Marcos before he moved to malacanang palace where the joke was that when the Marcos pool overflowed, we'd get flooded.
A few weeks before JB, Bambi and Migay flew over to join us, the house flooded and a picture was taken of that particular time. Which is why JB, used to all the flooding, never panicked or felt any fear or concern. Was proud of Lynn enjoying wading through the cleaner flood waters of their street. People were invited into their little house to wait for tow trucks as they floundered in the unsuspecting depths of the street rivers.
I told JB that I couldn't understand why people were so upset that first big Des Plaines flood in the late 80s, when I had just come from a land of floods oh oops, heaters, washers, dryers, fully loaded basements, duh... So a bit more sympathy there, maridel.
Anyway, until the next Chicago monsoon, here's to floods and men.