Resilience

 

“On the other side of a storm is the strength that comes from having navigated through it. Raise your sail and begin.” ~ Gregory S. Williams

 

It’s the summer solstice as I write this letter, just two days shy of the 50th anniversary of the flood of the century, caused by Hurricane Agnes in 1972. A teenager at the time, my hometown of Wilkes-Barre, in Luzerne County, was ground-zero for Agnes and became the center of national attention. Reflecting back, I feel a deeper sense of devastation and despair now than I did at the time. As young children, my siblings, friends, and I, while resilient in spirit, perhaps lacked the deeper perspective and responsibilities of adulthood to fully grasp the depth of the loss and destruction.

 

Our neighborhood, just a mile from the Susquehanna River, was inundated, and the water level reached the ceiling of the first of our two-story home. In an adjoining neighborhood, my friend Jim’s house was ripped from its foundation and tossed on its side in a field a quarter mile away. All my friends in most of the surrounding low-lying neighborhoods were affected in similar ways.

 

As children, we embraced the adventure and kept moving forward. We cleaned away the mud, rebuilt our homes and lives and were forever changed by an experience that has become part of the fabric of our lives. I am emotionally affected more now by the devastation that occurred then because I recall vividly the angst and despair my father expressed at the time as he considered the choice of cleaning and repairing versus demolishing and rebuilding our home and wondering how he would provide for his family. Jim shares that the only time he ever saw his father cry was when they found their home on its side in that empty field.

 

In 1972, the Agnes flood was the most devastating natural disaster in U.S. history at the time. Today it ranks 10th on the list. The other profound relevance of this anniversary is the sheer reality of how quickly so much time has passed. When I was a teenager, I couldn’t imagine retiring at the end of a 30-year career, let alone thinking forward 50 years into the future.

 

To all of us, and to my nephews and nieces in particular, I offer encouragement to keep moving forward; embrace and share beauty and optimism in the world and be your authentic self. Fifty years from now, you’ll want to look back and be satisfied that you were resilient and did what was needed to feel good, live simply and laugh more.