June 5, 1976 began as a typical day. It was a
Saturday and I was scheduled to work a shift at the drugstore my dad managed in
Ashton, Idaho. As such, I quickly prepared for the day and headed to work later
that morning.
My duties at the store included stocking shelves,
working in the old-fashioned soda fountain, and waiting on customers. It was
good job for a fifteen-year-old, and I enjoyed it, most of the time. I worked
with awesome ladies and the days passed quickly. This particular day proved to
be one of the craziest any of us had ever faced.
That afternoon, people began flooding into the
store. My dad had been listening to the radio while working in the pharmacy and
he told us that the Teton Dam had collapsed and people were running scared,
seeking higher ground. We were one of the few stores in the small town of
Ashton, and it seemed that within minutes, we were wall to wall with people who
were frantically buying up everything in sight. We sold out of first aid
supplies, diapers, and anything else these people thought would come in handy.
Most had fled immediately from their homes to find safety and only had what
they had grabbed on the way out. I remember how frightened most of them
appeared and we did our best to help them as they searched for basic supplies.
We were so swamped, it didn’t dawn on me for quite a
while that we had relatives caught in the flood’s violent path. When the dam
collapsed, a wall of water rushed toward the communities in its way. It was
rumored that around 13,000 livestock perished—my horse was among those lost. An
uncle had kept it pastured with his horses and I was later told that my
appaloosa colt was forced through a barbwire fence. The thought of that haunted
me for a long time.
Fourteen people died that day as a result of the
flood. We should count our blessings that more didn’t perish in the disaster.
Roads were washed away, homes were destroyed, telephone lines were down, and it
would take an agonizing time for us to learn that our family who lived in the
area had survived.
My paternal grandmother lived in a house in Roberts
with one of my uncles. We were told that she had refused to evacuate, intent on
saving her home. She opened the back door and the front door, then climbed onto
the back of her couch and had a front row seat to the water that came rushing
through. It entered through one door and exited the other on its way to merge
with Snake River.
Another uncle’s home was destroyed as the flood
water reached his place in Menan. He and
his family were among those who later received a FEMA trailer to live in while
a new home was built.
We were told that many people in the area headed to
the higher ground of Ricks College when the flood took place. This small
university became a safe haven where people gathered in the buildings for
shelter. Food was prepared in the cafeteria to feed the 2000 people who had
fled immediately to this location.
Nearly 10,000 people stood on the hills above
Rexburg and watched as the flood waters tore their community to shreds. The
water had picked up large logs from a nearby sawmill and the lumber quickly
became battering rams that destroyed homes and businesses throughout the area.
Some struck a local gas station and caught fire in the resulting explosion.
We came down as a family as soon as we were allowed
in the area to help our relatives who had survived this tragedy. My father had
recently purchased a four wheel drive Chevy Suburban and I know it helped us
maneuver through road conditions that were nearly non-existent. It’s difficult
to put into words the devastation I saw that day. My high school, North
Fremont, often competed in sporting activities with the teams located in Sugar
City. I had traveled to this small town quite often. I was stunned to see that
it was totally annihilated. Miles of mud and debris littered what used to be a
town. The smell was horrific. Combine swampy mud with dead animals and it’s a
scent you don’t soon forget.
I later learned that the Idaho National Guard came
into the area to clear roads, rebuild bridges, and to bury the dead animals.
College students volunteered hours of service to aid those who had sought
shelter at the small university in Rexburg. It was estimated that over 4,000
people were fed meals in the early days of the restoration effort. Volunteers
from all over the state and nation came to help in the massive clean-up that
took place.
As we drove through the area, I was amazed to see
how random some of the destruction was. One house would be totally obliterated,
while another would be standing as though nothing had happened. For the most
part, though, the devastation was overwhelming.
When we reached our grandmother’s home, we carefully
exited the Suburban. Mud was everywhere. I already mentioned the smell. We made
our way inside the house where my grandmother and uncle were already shoveling
out the mud that had been deposited throughout the small home. We worked with
them for hours to try to salvage what could be saved. I didn’t think we would
ever get all of that mud scrubbed clean, but eventually, it began to look like
Grandma’s home again.
In the days, weeks, and years that followed, it was
amazing to see how people worked together to restore all that was lost. So many
unsung heroes stepped forward to help in any way that they could. It was an
experience that I’ve never forgotten, and one that comes to mind each time an
act of devastation takes place.
Recently, we’ve been inundated with disasters all
over the world, including here in the United States. Hurricanes, tornadoes,
flooding, earthquakes . . . the list goes on and on. Our hearts and prayers go
out to anyone touched by these tragic events—and we all do our best to help in
any way that we can.
It has been my observation that during stressful
times like these, we often see the best in people as they strive to help those
around them. We pull outside of ourselves to offer aid and solace to those who
have lost so much. Selfishness and pride are left by the wayside as we roll up
our sleeves to serve others. It’s sad that it sometimes takes a disaster for us
to realize what is really important.
My suggestion at the moment—take the time to ponder
the great blessings we enjoy. Look deep inside your heart and consider what it
is you can do to help those who are suffering. It is often the simple things
that mean the most. I heard of one young lady who traveled up to Idaho after
she learned what had taken place following the collapse of the Teton Dam. She
had thoughtfully brought clean water in containers to share with those who had
nothing to drink. Something that simple brought relief to those who burned with
thirst.
So on this day, push aside trivial concerns, roll up
your sleeves, and see how much good you can accomplish for those who have lost
everything. Not only will these acts of service go a long way toward helping
others, but you’ll notice that a sense of peace will fill your heart as you
serve. And in the end, isn't that what it's all about?!
