30 days of song: day 7

A song that reminds me of a certain event: "Black Water" by the Doobie Brothers

Well, I built me a raft and shes ready for floatin
Ol' Mississippi, she's callin my name

Spring 1993. Debbie, Dez, Mary, and I headed downtown to a concert, I think it was Enormous Richard and the Urge, in Debbie's VW bug. We were friends again, having recovered from the year's trauma (there is always a trauma, don't you know). We went down to Mississippi Nights, got our under-21 stamps, danced, sweat, laughed. There was fight on the floor, and the lead singer to the Urge stopped the music and lamented loudly into the microphone, "why does there have to be a fight every time?" Which of course became a floor slogan back at Marguerite Hall. Sometimes on Tuesday nights Dez and Gus would pretend to be a feisty married couple and have Tuesday Night Fight Night in the hall, and it always ended with mocking: "why does there have to be a fight every time?"

We left the hall before it was all over, and drove down towards the river. For folks who live on one of the biggest rivers in the world, St. Louisans are kind of detached from the Mississippi. I don't remember crossing the river as a child except for once a year apple-picking trips. You just didn't go east. It's a snobbery that lasts to this day in all sorts of ways, including what parishes merge with whom. So even though we were easy biking distance from the university, we just never saw it.

But we saw it that night. As college students, national news was not very important to us, and certainly not national weather reports (if it rains, I don't care, don't make no difference to me). We stopped on the street and stared at the water.

"Isn't there another street down there?" Debbie pointed out what we were all thinking. I nodded, getting out of the car to get a closer look at the water. The river was high, and it looked dangerous. It was alive, suddenly, and it could do what it wished. We got back into the car and went back to SLU.

Of course, that summer, Debbie called me. She'd spent the whole night sandbagging. Brian had to evacuate due to propane tanks dislodging from their bases and floating through his suburb. My 80 year old aunt had to show ID to get back to her house every day. Flood of '93 was here.