Published: Wednesday, December 5, 2007
Region used to surviving storms
At the Edmonds Historical Museum, Joni Sein can look back at hard times endured by earlier generations -- including wicked weather.
"Historical photographs show storms here in Edmonds, and people watching it hammer away on the beach," said Sein, director of the museum operated by the Edmonds-South Snohomish County Historical Society.
Eyeing scenes of damage from early days on the waterfront, Sein said she can almost step into the old pictures and feel the wind and rain.
"It's not that much different from today," said Sein, 47. "You stand back and hope nobody gets hurt. That's the way of life here. It's the wrath of Mother Nature."
Looking out my office window Tuesday, a blue-sky afternoon, it was hard to fathom the mayhem wrought by heavy rains the day before. All of us who've been here awhile know the drill: roads closed, wrecked and then repaired; homes flooded, abandoned and cleaned up.
It rains, it pours, it snows, it blows. Then, briefly, the sun comes out before we face it all over again. And winter's real start is still more than two weeks off.
The only trouble at my house Monday was dampness in a corner of my unfinished basement, so I have the luxury of thinking about an intangible Northwest quality. It buffers the hardiest people here from dark moods that our gray winters can bring. In devastated areas of southwest Washington, we'll see it for months to come. That quality is resilience.
A few years back, I wrote about seasonal affective disorder, the depression that strikes as days grow short. That article included a psychologist's tips for dealing with the malady known as SAD, among them trying a full-spectrum light box and taking daily walks.
The fortitude it takes to ride out seasons here was part of Northwesterners' emotional makeup long before anyone ever heard of winter blues. Folks in those old photographs had it, and so do many today.
Suzanne Hawkesworth, 57, lives on the outskirts of Snohomish, a quarter-mile from the Snohomish River. During last fall's mammoth floods, she and her husband used a neighbor's boat to evacuate the rented house where they've lived for 22 years.
"They told us we had to leave," she said. They stayed with their son in Lake Stevens before returning home to deal with a sludge-filled basement. They lost all their family pictures and hand-sewn heirlooms from Hawkesworth's late mother.
"It was devastating, but I love this house," she said. "Our son was married here and our daughter raised here. It's a comfortable house, with fruit trees, acreage and wonderful landlords. I've got eight grandchildren here. This is home base."
As for dark days to come, Hawkesworth said "it comes with the territory." She sees winter as a time to study her Bible, sew and take care of inside work. "I look forward to the first snowfall. After that, heavy rains come. Then I count the days till spring," Hawkesworth said.
Charles LeWarne, one of the authors of "Snohomish County: An Illustrated History," has lived in Edmonds more than 50 years. He was amazed by televised images of urban flooding in the Lynnwood area Monday.
"I wasn't out of the house yesterday," LeWarne, 77, said Tuesday. His usual year-round habit is a daily walk. "I think most of us just go with this weather. It's been a little worse the last couple winters, but it's generally mild and pleasant. I can't imagine a place that's sunny all the time."
He ventured out in Saturday's snow for several Christmas parties. "You put on a jacket, put on a rain hat, and go," LeWarne said.
Last year's flooding stranded Craig Beecroft in his Stanwood home for a day. "In the seven or eight years I've been here, it's flooded every other year," said Beecroft, 58, who grows hay on his land a mile from downtown Stanwood. His house, built in 1936 and situated along Church Creek, had water in it just once, in the floods of 1990. After that, he raised it 12 feet.
"To me, it's just another time of year," said Beecroft. He has no desire to spend winters in a warmer place. "I can live and die here. I'm quite happy," he said.
As a volunteer with the Snohomish County Chapter of the American Red Cross, 63-year-old Julie Reymore sees again and again how tough people are when disaster hits. "A lot of people don't take advantage of shelters; they'll stay home and weather the storm," the Edmonds woman said.
In 2005, she spent 21 days in Mississippi helping people displaced by Hurricane Katrina. What she heard there is repeated here whenever destructive storms strike. "You'd hear story after story, people saying 'I need to fix up my house. I want to stay here,' " Reymore said.
She worries about people in the Sultan area still recovering from last year's floods. And she wonders why they stay. "But you know why," Reymore said. "Because it's home."
"Historical photographs show storms here in Edmonds, and people watching it hammer away on the beach," said Sein, director of the museum operated by the Edmonds-South Snohomish County Historical Society.
Eyeing scenes of damage from early days on the waterfront, Sein said she can almost step into the old pictures and feel the wind and rain.
"It's not that much different from today," said Sein, 47. "You stand back and hope nobody gets hurt. That's the way of life here. It's the wrath of Mother Nature."
Looking out my office window Tuesday, a blue-sky afternoon, it was hard to fathom the mayhem wrought by heavy rains the day before. All of us who've been here awhile know the drill: roads closed, wrecked and then repaired; homes flooded, abandoned and cleaned up.
It rains, it pours, it snows, it blows. Then, briefly, the sun comes out before we face it all over again. And winter's real start is still more than two weeks off.
The only trouble at my house Monday was dampness in a corner of my unfinished basement, so I have the luxury of thinking about an intangible Northwest quality. It buffers the hardiest people here from dark moods that our gray winters can bring. In devastated areas of southwest Washington, we'll see it for months to come. That quality is resilience.
A few years back, I wrote about seasonal affective disorder, the depression that strikes as days grow short. That article included a psychologist's tips for dealing with the malady known as SAD, among them trying a full-spectrum light box and taking daily walks.
The fortitude it takes to ride out seasons here was part of Northwesterners' emotional makeup long before anyone ever heard of winter blues. Folks in those old photographs had it, and so do many today.
Suzanne Hawkesworth, 57, lives on the outskirts of Snohomish, a quarter-mile from the Snohomish River. During last fall's mammoth floods, she and her husband used a neighbor's boat to evacuate the rented house where they've lived for 22 years.
"They told us we had to leave," she said. They stayed with their son in Lake Stevens before returning home to deal with a sludge-filled basement. They lost all their family pictures and hand-sewn heirlooms from Hawkesworth's late mother.
"It was devastating, but I love this house," she said. "Our son was married here and our daughter raised here. It's a comfortable house, with fruit trees, acreage and wonderful landlords. I've got eight grandchildren here. This is home base."
As for dark days to come, Hawkesworth said "it comes with the territory." She sees winter as a time to study her Bible, sew and take care of inside work. "I look forward to the first snowfall. After that, heavy rains come. Then I count the days till spring," Hawkesworth said.
Charles LeWarne, one of the authors of "Snohomish County: An Illustrated History," has lived in Edmonds more than 50 years. He was amazed by televised images of urban flooding in the Lynnwood area Monday.
"I wasn't out of the house yesterday," LeWarne, 77, said Tuesday. His usual year-round habit is a daily walk. "I think most of us just go with this weather. It's been a little worse the last couple winters, but it's generally mild and pleasant. I can't imagine a place that's sunny all the time."
He ventured out in Saturday's snow for several Christmas parties. "You put on a jacket, put on a rain hat, and go," LeWarne said.
Last year's flooding stranded Craig Beecroft in his Stanwood home for a day. "In the seven or eight years I've been here, it's flooded every other year," said Beecroft, 58, who grows hay on his land a mile from downtown Stanwood. His house, built in 1936 and situated along Church Creek, had water in it just once, in the floods of 1990. After that, he raised it 12 feet.
"To me, it's just another time of year," said Beecroft. He has no desire to spend winters in a warmer place. "I can live and die here. I'm quite happy," he said.
As a volunteer with the Snohomish County Chapter of the American Red Cross, 63-year-old Julie Reymore sees again and again how tough people are when disaster hits. "A lot of people don't take advantage of shelters; they'll stay home and weather the storm," the Edmonds woman said.
In 2005, she spent 21 days in Mississippi helping people displaced by Hurricane Katrina. What she heard there is repeated here whenever destructive storms strike. "You'd hear story after story, people saying 'I need to fix up my house. I want to stay here,' " Reymore said.
She worries about people in the Sultan area still recovering from last year's floods. And she wonders why they stay. "But you know why," Reymore said. "Because it's home."
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