By Marianne Hall-Little
Those of us who experienced losses during the largest flood in most peoples lifetime, will forever hold memories, both heartbreaking and soul-searching, and, yes, bittersweet, as well.
Whether or not you were directly impacted by the raging waters, you most certainly know someone who lost nearly everything or very nearly everything. Even so, whiners were few and far between. Rather, people came together.
The theme throughout all the small rural communities that were hardest hit by the flood was one of cooperation. People who had never really bothered to know their neighbors suddenly were working as a team. I would be totally surprised to hear of anyone in our area who did not know some family and friends who were hurt in this horrendous flood.
I have yet to meet anyone who could not talk for hours about the horrors faced by themselves or their loved ones.
My most poignant memories from the flood forever will be watching the elderly people and the parents with small youngsters talking to each other with faces full of genuine concern as they sat in chairs at the First Baptist Church in Cuero. The church was set up as a community shelter.
I remember the young blind man who wanted so much to really help, and did so admirably.
People seemingly forgot their ethnic origins, their particular denominations, and all the other commonly used lines that separate people into groups. They seemed to form a whole as people in need, pure, plain and simple.
Our ancestors pulled together in times of great adversity and their communities became stronger because of their trials and tribulations. They had to rely on each other far more than we generally feel we depend upon our neighbors.
But in times when something so impossible to prepare for happens, we are a blessed people that we have wonderful examples of what our ancestors did when they faced adversity. We have their silent but very powerful example to follow.
While my home was a mess, it was nothing compared to many who had no home left when the waters receded.
While I lost material things, no one I knew lost their life. Things became what they truly are: unimportant in our lives, and helping people became the most important thing we could do. We should all feel proud to be a part of an area of Texas where county lines, city lines, ethnicity, and religious denominations all blurred and the entire area worked together for the common good.