My article in the local newspaper

This is my contribution to the local newspaper. I am sorry for those who have lost all of their homes, but I had to voice out here too.

3 am Tuesday, a few inches of water appeared on the basement floor.
Apparently both the sump pumps cannot keep up with the rate of discharge from
the drainage tiles. By 4am, there is a foot of water in the basement and there
was a louder splashing of water, almost like a fountain. Brown and black water
was spurting from the washer discharge and basement sink. The stench of sewer
reminds me of my past visits to Hong Kong or Thailand, ewww. By 5am, the water
has passed the first step, my laundry basket was floating around me. What else
can I do, but start bringing what I can to the garage. By 7am, fatigue took
over, just as the rain stopped and the sun rose to the dawn. At 9am, the
basement floor emerged, leaving a muddy gunk on everything.

Damages from this water range from Christmas collectibles generations
long, all major appliances (we still have no central air or washer use), to doll
houses.

By Friday, my basement smells and still damp. upon closer observation,
there is water under the floor tiles that have loosen. The insurance adjuster
has not showed up, the garage is stinking like old socks, and I am tired. For
hours, the floor tiles were removed and piled to a wall. Fans blast from all
corners,the stench finally alleviates. Previous tenants that lined the garage
were moved to the driveway. Guess what appeared within hours but RAIN. The quick
cover with tarps and silent prayers, and pleading.

I know I am somewhat fortunate,nevertheless I have losses. Having lived
through Hurricane Bob in 1991, I chose not to live by the coast. Learning about
the Michael Chertoff's visit cemented that I am once again in a disaster area.
Some time from now, we will tell stories. The week when Findlay Ohio ruled the
global news world (my mother saw Findlay Ohio featured on CNN International
while on vacation in China). Stories will be of the Flood of 2007 at
Sunday lunches without tears welling in our eye, only then we have healed and
moved on and dried out.