Storm of Raindrops or Teardrops?
Today our small community is saying goodbye to one of our old timers. How odd that it should rain today of all days. You see, some folks thought this little man acted "sort of odd" when it rained really hard. During a heavy rainstorm he was often seen just sitting on his porch, rocking and staring, or walking slowly across his yard in the rain with his head down - just walking and walking and walking. Few knew why a heavy rain was so hard for him to endure. Most were afraid to ask and he never burdened others with his sorrow. Today I will share his pain with you.
The homes in our little mountain community sit on the sides of tall steep mountains. A good rain is enjoyed as it washes away the dust which settles on everything from the coal mines which seem to open high on the mountain side every few miles. Really heavy rains will have everyone watching the level of the creeks and rivers which run down the center of the narrow valley. The rain rushing from the mountain sides can have the creeks at flood in a short time. This story is of one of those heavy rains and fast rising river floods.
As a young man the old timer worked in a small mine loading coal by hand. He walked the five miles to work and back - just as most of his buddies did. His shift was the evening shift. Entering the mine in daylight and coming out to pitch black night. As they prepared to enter the mine some joked that this might be a "short shift" due to the rain the past few days and the rising river. Flooding would call a halt to work so the miners could get home before being completely cut off by creeks which poured from every hollow during a flood.
Just a few hours after starting work the miners felt an odd tremble roll through the ground around them. It wasn't an explosion, rock fall from the roof, or coal shifting from the seam they were working. Those awful sounds they could identify. This was something much different, but just as chilling. Shortly the Super called a halt to work and advised the men to get out fast and try to get home. Yes, it was flooding, but something worse had happened. The huge refuse pile of slate dumped into the next hollow as the coal was mined had shifted and slid down the mountain in an black avalanche covering the small houses situated below.
Osborne and his buddies left the mine and entered a landscape changed forever. Each said a silent prayer they would arrive home to find their families safe. They started their walk home climbing over hills of slate which had been high on the mountain just a few hours ago. None wanted to think of the homes and who might be buried under the slate. As they reached the bottom of the slide near the river they could hear a voice calling for help from the darkness. Being mountain men, no call for help could or would be ignored. They began searching for the one in need.
The beams from the lights on their hard hats soon revealed a sight they never forgot. The rushing slate had pushed the small coal camp house nearer to the river, collasping the walls, and partically covering the tiny house. Rising black water was all around the house and a frantic voice called for help. These brave men gave no thought to their own danger as they entered the cold water to help a neighbor.
Inside they found a young woman pinned beneath a beam with water rising around her. They strained and pushed with all their strength, but the beam refused to budge. The weight of the slate on the crumpled house was just too heavy. They couldn't move the young woman because the beam had pinned her leg tightly to the floor. As the water continued to rise, they continued to try everything they knew save this precious life. They continued to work and the water continued to get higher and higher.
As the water reached the chin of the trapped woman she begged the men to cut her leg off so they could get her out. Her plea was heard with breaking hearts - All they had was a pocket knife. There was no way even that drastic measure could be done. Eventually, the rising water took the life of this trapped woman as four strong men wept helplessly. Her young life was over. Their lives had been changed forever. Her calls for help would ring in their ears every time a hard rain washed over the mountains.
The old timers who remembered the flood and the devastation of the slate slide often stopped by to sit on the porch with their friend during a particularly heavy storm. None ever mentioned what they knew must have been on his mind. Just being there was their way of offering the helping hand of friendship.
Looking at the faces of those old timers entering the little country church in the falling rain tells me they came not only to say goodbye to their friend, but to sit quietly with him during the storm one last time.
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