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A River in Drought


Back from Illinois. Rained for three days straight, thanks to Hurricane Isaac. We drove through sporadic downpours and continuous drizzle from Kansas City to Southern Illinois. It was tense behind the wheel at times, but we were grateful for the rain.


There was a tinge of irony to the deluge because one of the purposes of this trip was to gauge the effect of the drought on Alexander County and the Ohio River. It felt odd to step out into the rain to marvel at the shallow water.


The Ohio was indeed low, as low as I can remember. Sandbars broke the surface like the spine of swimming serpents. The remains of ancient memories now come to light, rising in midstream.

  

Plants had taken root on those new sandy islands. Given time, there would be trees, too, and the Ohio would divide into channels and chutes, as it was in its natural state. Of course it would need more than time for that to happen.

 

The “natural state” ... whatever that may be. As the river is used today, there is no going back to that.


Just upstream from Alexander County is the Olmsted Lock and Dam project — and ongoing construction project that will eventually replace the old L&D. It’s been in progress since the 1990s.


Hundreds of workers have been employed here, and countless dollars spent. Entire careers have been consumed on this project, which still looks as if it’s just now getting under way.


One wonders whether this is the Army Corps of Engineers’ Crazy Horse monument. Is this the Corps’ version of the Great Pyramids?


Not hardly.


When this new lock and dam opens, it will stand — for a while, anyway — as a testament not to any great chief or pharaoh but to a different kind of king. It will be in the service of the king of commerce and industry, to the movers of coal and the shakers of steel, to corn and to beans.


— 30 —

Collected written works  |  Gary Marx

“What I was worried about was, if the water came in, it would be half way up in my attic. Because if you look at the levees, you can see it’s like we’re down here in a hole.”


— Alice Johnston


Alice Johnston was away   from her home on Washington Avenue for three weeks during the flood of 2011 and the evacuation of Cairo.