I married Paul's and Ann's eldest daughter Linda. Linda is so open, loving and playful, I often wondered what her adult examples were like. Paul and I became friends as the years rolled by. Over too much beer, he told me how he and Ann first got together. The story seemed incomplete. Over many years, I pieced together why he had a darkness about him, what bonded them closer than any couple I know and why the son they had together is pursued by every girl at his school.
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What Paul told me (in his own words):
My ten years in the service were an unmitigated disaster. My parents were killed while I was stationed overseas, I saw too much death, caused too much death, was lied too until I could not believe or trust anyone anymore. I even discovered my baby son was not mine and that my wife and high school sweetheart was a meth addict and whore. I had money, education and health but nothing was of interest to me. At forty, I bought some acreage five hundred feet up the side of a hill overlooking a High Sierra river and slowly built my home. Sex, friends, a hoped for family, "truth and the American way" had been my life's motivations. Now I had ambled through ten years alone and was content to do another ten.
Two years ago I got a neighbor. I had only casually met the auburn haired, thin shy woman once. At the right angle, I could see her house was only a few feet above the normal spring runoff water line. Her name was Ann, I guessed she was about thirty; she had two pre-teen daughters. I never saw a man. We were about a mile from the nearest store and seven from what passed for a town. The day I met her, I must have looked like "Grizzly Adams" from the old TV show of that name. I had been swinging an axe all day, had not shaved in two and had on my worst, worn flannel shirt with missing buttons and rips. She and her girls had walked up the hillside to bring me a pie. They were my first visitors, ever.
I did remember enough manners to meet and greet, "Ann thanks for the pie. Homemade goodies cooked by someone other than me are worth their weight in gold. I showed her around the house. She and her girls seemed surprised that my house was neat, well furnished and I had all the most modern personal computer equipment in my large office, over stuffed with books.
"Don't you have a car?"
"I do but it wasn't practical to bring a road to the house. My garage is actually about half a mile away on the other side of this hill and next to the road. I do keep the snow mobile here, however. I've been stranded a few times over the years." That was the extent of our one and only visit, over a year ago.
The girls caught a glimpse of the three nearly tamed does, saw all the animal feeders and met Sam, the dog that showed up six years ago and stayed. I told them they could come up and watch the animals if they wanted but they never did. I'm sure mom labeled me as the mad hermit pervert on the hill. I probably did leer at her some.
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The late-February evening news was making a big deal about the warm weather melting the season's heavy snows too quickly. The perky weather girl actually smiled when she showed the tropical early season rain storm that was headed our way and would melt the snow even more rapidly. She bounced when she reminded us retarded viewers that all the reservoirs were already full and we could be in for the worst floods in a hundred years. At first I dismissed that information. Any flooding would be in the little town; parts of it had flooded three times since I lived here. Then I had a fleeting thought about Ann and her girls. Maybe she would escape problems. Already the water control people were releasing water from the lake upstream and the river was raging.
The next morning, Ann was out early measuring the water level. About noon she was sitting on her back porch with her head in her hands, the kids were not home from school yet. She left for a while but returned with about 50 sandbags in the back of her pick-up. She would need a thousand to make any difference. I walked down the hill and handed her a cold soft drink.
"What's the plan?"
"Everyone in town is sandbagging for the expected high water in four days. I thought I should try. Everything we own is tied up in this place and it is not covered by flood insurance."
"You are going to need a lot of help and a lot of sand."
"The bags and sand are no problem but I tried all morning to get people to come out here and help. They are all tied up and even the Mayor told me it was hopeless to sandbag here."
My years of engineer training were challenged by the word hopeless. Those were my favorite tasks. I sat quietly, drinking my soda and surveying her property.
"Walk with me, Ann."
I showed her how the slope of her backyard could provide two sides of protection. "What I am going to outline is a long shot. Even if it works, your well and septic system will be useless until the water subsides and both will probably have to be rebuilt."
As we walked I drew a line in the dirt where a sandbagged wall could be and how it could be supported with some back fill and plastic.
"Paul, it's a good idea but there is no man power and I only have four days. That would be a lot of sandbags. I got fifty this morning and look how little they covered?"
"I said it was a long shot. I'll help. The girls will have to help. You will be more tired than at any time in your life. Do you really want to try?"
"The girls can't even pick up one of those sandbags. They can't help."
"If we design it right, they'll help, be an important part and be just as tired as us."
"If you think it can be done, let's go for it. Tell me the plan."
"For now go order two big dump-truck loads of sand and two thousand of the new style reinforced sandbags with ties. Tell them to dump the sand on the hillside right there on the little flat."
"I will but that is ten feet off the ground, it doesn't make sense to me."
"I'm going to go get some stuff and slide it down the hill. When the girls get home, I'll explain."
My old conveyor belts were still working after I used them for moving fill when I built my house. I used Ann's truck to go get an old platform that used to be part of the stairs to get into my garage before the grading and cement work.
The ladies were all ears but very skeptical and unsure about all the work.
"Here is what we are going to try. The sand will be on that ledge. This platform will be at the base, leaving a six foot drop from the top of the platform to the sand. We are going to set up this conveyor with the wooden sides to flow from the sand to the platform. The conveyor will start and stop with a foot lever. The idea is to set an empty bag on a box at the bottom of the conveyor, sand will come down, fill the bag, we tie the bag and let it topple off into Ann's truck. When the truck is full we drive it to where we want the bags. Then we do it again, and again, and again."
Linda, the twelve year old asked, "What about school and when do we rest?"
"You ditch school when trying to save your house and you can rest as long as you want when we finish."
Sara the ten year old chimed in, "What do Linda and I do?"
"You sit on the sand pile and kick, push or shovel sand on to the conveyor."
About that time the first load of sand and bags arrived. The driver looked at us like we were nuts. I thanked him and made him promise to bring the next load in the morning.
"Ann, go ahead and feed the girls; get them to bed early and out here to start working at first light. Do you have any work lights?"
Using her lights, the house's outside lighting and my work lights, I worked all night to get the assembly line set up and tested. We were not very efficient the first hour after dawn but the girls thought it was fun. Our first load of bags to fill Ann's pick-up took an hour. The second load took 45 minutes and the girls did not think it was as much fun. By the forth load we were filling the truck's bed in thirty minutes. The sand truck driver seemed impressed but still shook his head as he drove away after depositing the second load.
Ann brought me a sandwich about noon and said, "Paul, this is amazing but the girls can't keep this pace up for several days."
"I know. About three, we'll start just dumping the bags into piles close to where they need to be stacked and keep filling as many as we can. I'll stack them when the girls have to rest. When we all can work as a team, we'll fill bags. When someone has to stop, we'll try to see that coming and manage around being shorthanded."
When Ann and the girls came out the next morning, I was ready to start filling bags. We were one third of the way.
