Frozen Rivers
On most of my adventures, I don't have a revelation about racial injustice.
In February of the next year, I got my fourth FEMA call. This one was in New York. I was to show up in the state capitol, Albany, on the Hudson River about 150 miles directly north of New York City; and from there drive out to wherever the disaster claims were. When I got off the plane, I realized how unprepared I was for this cold weather. I was literally in pain until I found a clothing store and loaded up with a sweater and thermal underwear, a heavy knit watch cap, and most importantly, a muffler to wrap around my neck. I felt at the time this was the coldest weather I had ever experienced.
I took a little walking tour around downtown Albany. It is steeped in history. I had a quest to visit a statue of an ancestor of my cousins.I had a quest to visit a statue of an ancestor of my cousins. He had been in the Revolutionary War; Major General Philip Schuyler. It was bleak, gray and icy the day I was there. It was a Saturday and deserted. In front of a little glorieta in front of the Albany City hall, there he was, dressed in winter garb with a heavy cape and a tri-cornered hat. I was looking into that bronze face and saw the unmistakable features of my Uncle, Dale Schuyler, and his son, my cousin Philip Schuyler.
A few blocks away, I reported to the FEMA command center, in a state building. The process of a federal emergency is that the governor of a particular state determines that an event is of a scale that it overwhelms state and local disaster response capabilities and budgets. The governor declares that a state of emergency exists and formally requests that the federal government make greater resources available. So FEMA sets up temporary shop in an unused state office building to facilitate their coordination with State officials. The headquarters is generally open around the clock, and Saturday is just another day/night cycle in which to advance the disaster relief. They gave me a FEMA photo ID, some "Federal Emergency Management Vehicle" placards for my car windows, and a tablet computer to upload and download my inspections and sent me on my way. I drove west across the state, passing by places I had long heard about; Watkins Glen, with its auto races and concerts; the Finger Lakes; Corning with its glassworks.
The winter of 1996 had been unkind to the residents of upstate New York, particularly Steuben County in the southwest corner of the state, bordering Pennsylvania. They had experienced a cycle of weather they refer to as an "ice storm". A Southern California boy wouldn't know anything about that. What happened was a triple-whammy. First, they had a very large snowstorm, which left massive amounts of snowpack on the hills, valleys and mountains. Next came a very large warm rainstorm. The deluge would have been a problem even by itself, but combined with the rapidly melting snow it became a flood that inundated the entire countryside. Finally, there came a cataclysmic change in the weather; the temperature dropped 40 degrees overnight and the flooded landscape turned to solid ice.
I arrived there a week later and there were chunks of ice along the roadways where they had been pushed by snowplows and heavy equipment to make way for traffic, and the rivers back in their normal channels were still jigsaw puzzles of ice a foot thick. There were Amish people that lived in the area and I would see them traveling about in horse drawn carriages and wagons, dressed in the traditional clothing. They didn't seek any help from FEMA as a matter of principle. They have a system of coming to the aid of their own community that operates quite well without the government. So I didn't get the opportunity to look into their world. A FEMA inspector is on the run from inspection to inspection for all the daylight hours and on the phone to schedule more at night. Everyone wants to see us get our job done as fast as possible, so you don't take any time to explore other cultures.
Years later, in 2001, my son and I traveled to China. In the few weeks we were there, we had conversations with young Chinese who sought us out to practice their spoken English. Oddly, when quizzing them about their aspirations, most wanted to go to the US to study, usually at Penn State University, and while they were there they would like to observe the Amish people living with their 19th century technology.
Many of the claims were at family farms of a few hundred acres. Typically there was a farmhouse sitting about 300 feet from the main public road at the end of a gravel driveway leading to the house and barns, and branching off to dirt roads between the fields. The first floor was usually stood 2 or 3 feet above the surrounding ground and there was a second floor for bedrooms. The floodwaters hadn't risen into the living space, but the basements, of course, were underwater. The problem was, that's where the central heating equipment would be located. Most of these farmhouses had old style fuel oil burning furnaces, which don't work when underwater, much less when encased in ice.
People living in these farmhouses fared pretty well, they could just bundle up inside and sit by a wood fire atop a valley wide block of ice. People whose living conditions weren't quite as together experienced the brunt of the misery. A poor family's home near the river was damaged first by the flood, and then completely destroyed by the moving ice. Their car was in the river, half buried in silt. They had to run for their lives, and were left with nothing salvageable.
One peculiar claim was at a house on a wooded hillside occupied by two guys in their 30's. One of the things a FEMA inspector does is looks at and records the claimants' driver's licenses and ID's and documentation that this was their residence at the time of the disaster. When I asked for these guys' ID's, they produced crudely official-looking "Nation of Something or other"...I don't remember exactly what...but it was some kind of anti-government movement. My job was not to make any determination as to the legitimacy of anybody's ID, just to ask for the best documents they could produce. My job was to dutifully record what the ID said on it, and leave it to another FEMA staffer up the line to make the call. Their pickup trucks had home made license plates on them and hostile bumper stickers with far right slogans.
Paradoxically, they had applied to the satanic US government for disaster assistance, and I was probably the only G-man they had ever come face to face with: Uncle Sam in the flesh! They eyed me with suspicion of course.
There were two buildings on the property. The house hadn't sustained much damage, they managed to keep the guns and ammunition dry, but they were keen on getting me to document the broken slab of the garage, which they claimed was caused by ice upheaval, and which exposed a nest of rattlesnakes that lived under the slab. It seemed a rather peculiar claim to me, but I can see that it would be a hazard to live with. My job is to write down what I'm told and evaluate what I can see and measure, but not to get down on my hands and knees in the snow to count rattlesnakes.
I don't know what FEMA policy is on rattlesnakes, but I do know this little tidbit I learned from inspectors who had worked in Missouri. Your aim as a FEMA inspector is to restore people to a situation that's livable. The necessities of life are different in different parts of the country. In most places the list is similar: A structure that provides safe and sanitary shelter that locks up; hot and cold potable running water; toilet and bathing necessities; a refrigerator; heat, and/or air conditioning; clothing; beds; bedding; a TV; a phone; a car. In Missouri, one of the necessities of life is a lawnmower! The reason is probably why the idea of a lawn clipped short became a thing in the first place; Snakes in the grass! The tall grass gives copperheads, cottonmouth water moccasins, and a variety of rattlesnakes a place to hide. It's a serious problem in some regions. So maybe they did get some assistance to seal up their snake pit. I don't know what happens after I upload my inspection report.
That was the end of my short assignment there, and I thought I'd take a big detour on my way back to Albany. Straight north from Steuben County was the city of Buffalo and Niagara Falls. So that's where I went. Up until that day, the coldest weather I'd ever experienced was just a week before getting off the plane in Albany. At Niagara Falls it was even colder.
I'd long seen pictures of the Falls from the obvious vantage point in front. The pictures would often include a tourist boat "Queen of the Mists" plying the water at the base of the 160 foot cataracts, and a great cloud of mist and spray even taller than the falls. There was no boat that day. The river was a frozen cracked jigsaw puzzle. It was so cold that cloud of mist had become an enormous snowball over 100 feet tall just standing there, what falling water you could see was disappearing down behind the ball.
I went soon back to California, where at this time of year you can catch a week or two of beach weather. In New York, your face hurt.
Copyright © 2022 John Oliver
All Rights Reserved
mail@unclejohnsweb.com
In February of the next year, I got my fourth FEMA call. This one was in New York. I was to show up in the state capitol, Albany, on the Hudson River about 150 miles directly north of New York City; and from there drive out to wherever the disaster claims were. When I got off the plane, I realized how unprepared I was for this cold weather. I was literally in pain until I found a clothing store and loaded up with a sweater and thermal underwear, a heavy knit watch cap, and most importantly, a muffler to wrap around my neck. I felt at the time this was the coldest weather I had ever experienced.
I took a little walking tour around downtown Albany. It is steeped in history. I had a quest to visit a statue of an ancestor of my cousins.I had a quest to visit a statue of an ancestor of my cousins. He had been in the Revolutionary War; Major General Philip Schuyler. It was bleak, gray and icy the day I was there. It was a Saturday and deserted. In front of a little glorieta in front of the Albany City hall, there he was, dressed in winter garb with a heavy cape and a tri-cornered hat. I was looking into that bronze face and saw the unmistakable features of my Uncle, Dale Schuyler, and his son, my cousin Philip Schuyler.
A few blocks away, I reported to the FEMA command center, in a state building. The process of a federal emergency is that the governor of a particular state determines that an event is of a scale that it overwhelms state and local disaster response capabilities and budgets. The governor declares that a state of emergency exists and formally requests that the federal government make greater resources available. So FEMA sets up temporary shop in an unused state office building to facilitate their coordination with State officials. The headquarters is generally open around the clock, and Saturday is just another day/night cycle in which to advance the disaster relief. They gave me a FEMA photo ID, some "Federal Emergency Management Vehicle" placards for my car windows, and a tablet computer to upload and download my inspections and sent me on my way. I drove west across the state, passing by places I had long heard about; Watkins Glen, with its auto races and concerts; the Finger Lakes; Corning with its glassworks.
The winter of 1996 had been unkind to the residents of upstate New York, particularly Steuben County in the southwest corner of the state, bordering Pennsylvania. They had experienced a cycle of weather they refer to as an "ice storm". A Southern California boy wouldn't know anything about that. What happened was a triple-whammy. First, they had a very large snowstorm, which left massive amounts of snowpack on the hills, valleys and mountains. Next came a very large warm rainstorm. The deluge would have been a problem even by itself, but combined with the rapidly melting snow it became a flood that inundated the entire countryside. Finally, there came a cataclysmic change in the weather; the temperature dropped 40 degrees overnight and the flooded landscape turned to solid ice.
I arrived there a week later and there were chunks of ice along the roadways where they had been pushed by snowplows and heavy equipment to make way for traffic, and the rivers back in their normal channels were still jigsaw puzzles of ice a foot thick. There were Amish people that lived in the area and I would see them traveling about in horse drawn carriages and wagons, dressed in the traditional clothing. They didn't seek any help from FEMA as a matter of principle. They have a system of coming to the aid of their own community that operates quite well without the government. So I didn't get the opportunity to look into their world. A FEMA inspector is on the run from inspection to inspection for all the daylight hours and on the phone to schedule more at night. Everyone wants to see us get our job done as fast as possible, so you don't take any time to explore other cultures.
Years later, in 2001, my son and I traveled to China. In the few weeks we were there, we had conversations with young Chinese who sought us out to practice their spoken English. Oddly, when quizzing them about their aspirations, most wanted to go to the US to study, usually at Penn State University, and while they were there they would like to observe the Amish people living with their 19th century technology.
Many of the claims were at family farms of a few hundred acres. Typically there was a farmhouse sitting about 300 feet from the main public road at the end of a gravel driveway leading to the house and barns, and branching off to dirt roads between the fields. The first floor was usually stood 2 or 3 feet above the surrounding ground and there was a second floor for bedrooms. The floodwaters hadn't risen into the living space, but the basements, of course, were underwater. The problem was, that's where the central heating equipment would be located. Most of these farmhouses had old style fuel oil burning furnaces, which don't work when underwater, much less when encased in ice.
People living in these farmhouses fared pretty well, they could just bundle up inside and sit by a wood fire atop a valley wide block of ice. People whose living conditions weren't quite as together experienced the brunt of the misery. A poor family's home near the river was damaged first by the flood, and then completely destroyed by the moving ice. Their car was in the river, half buried in silt. They had to run for their lives, and were left with nothing salvageable.
One peculiar claim was at a house on a wooded hillside occupied by two guys in their 30's. One of the things a FEMA inspector does is looks at and records the claimants' driver's licenses and ID's and documentation that this was their residence at the time of the disaster. When I asked for these guys' ID's, they produced crudely official-looking "Nation of Something or other"...I don't remember exactly what...but it was some kind of anti-government movement. My job was not to make any determination as to the legitimacy of anybody's ID, just to ask for the best documents they could produce. My job was to dutifully record what the ID said on it, and leave it to another FEMA staffer up the line to make the call. Their pickup trucks had home made license plates on them and hostile bumper stickers with far right slogans.
Paradoxically, they had applied to the satanic US government for disaster assistance, and I was probably the only G-man they had ever come face to face with: Uncle Sam in the flesh! They eyed me with suspicion of course.
There were two buildings on the property. The house hadn't sustained much damage, they managed to keep the guns and ammunition dry, but they were keen on getting me to document the broken slab of the garage, which they claimed was caused by ice upheaval, and which exposed a nest of rattlesnakes that lived under the slab. It seemed a rather peculiar claim to me, but I can see that it would be a hazard to live with. My job is to write down what I'm told and evaluate what I can see and measure, but not to get down on my hands and knees in the snow to count rattlesnakes.
I don't know what FEMA policy is on rattlesnakes, but I do know this little tidbit I learned from inspectors who had worked in Missouri. Your aim as a FEMA inspector is to restore people to a situation that's livable. The necessities of life are different in different parts of the country. In most places the list is similar: A structure that provides safe and sanitary shelter that locks up; hot and cold potable running water; toilet and bathing necessities; a refrigerator; heat, and/or air conditioning; clothing; beds; bedding; a TV; a phone; a car. In Missouri, one of the necessities of life is a lawnmower! The reason is probably why the idea of a lawn clipped short became a thing in the first place; Snakes in the grass! The tall grass gives copperheads, cottonmouth water moccasins, and a variety of rattlesnakes a place to hide. It's a serious problem in some regions. So maybe they did get some assistance to seal up their snake pit. I don't know what happens after I upload my inspection report.
That was the end of my short assignment there, and I thought I'd take a big detour on my way back to Albany. Straight north from Steuben County was the city of Buffalo and Niagara Falls. So that's where I went. Up until that day, the coldest weather I'd ever experienced was just a week before getting off the plane in Albany. At Niagara Falls it was even colder.
I'd long seen pictures of the Falls from the obvious vantage point in front. The pictures would often include a tourist boat "Queen of the Mists" plying the water at the base of the 160 foot cataracts, and a great cloud of mist and spray even taller than the falls. There was no boat that day. The river was a frozen cracked jigsaw puzzle. It was so cold that cloud of mist had become an enormous snowball over 100 feet tall just standing there, what falling water you could see was disappearing down behind the ball.
I went soon back to California, where at this time of year you can catch a week or two of beach weather. In New York, your face hurt.
Copyright © 2022 John Oliver
All Rights Reserved
mail@unclejohnsweb.com
All Rights Reserved
mail@unclejohnsweb.com