The Switch

"You lived through the flood of 93?"

"Obviously."

"What I mean is, did youexperienceit?"

"Yes, sir, I did. Where were you that summer?"

"In the Southwest. And out there it was as dry as dehydrated dust. Amazing how in one place houses can float down Main Street yet at another even your spit is dry -- both at the same time."

"Yeah. Say, what was that dry spell like? We only heard rumors."

"Well, sir, I was in New Mexico. Last rain was in March and that was more like a heavy dew. Then the heat comes. Everyone's lived in the Southwest knows hot-dry, we're famous for it. But we got more than our sharethatyear!

"We've had plenty of hot spells and droughts, but nothing that parched the ground so bad the cracks could swallow a shovel handle, I swear. '93 was worse than the Dust Bowl in the Thirties.

"Well, sir, when hundred-plus heat comes day after day and there's no getting away from it, folks don't pay much attention to cracks and dust. You look more at heat exhaustion and bloating cattle."

"How long did it last?"

"Three weeks of non-stop, hundred-and-three. Like sticking your head in an oven and never taking it out. Hot's one thing, anyone can put up with it a little while, it's the non-stop that gets you. Even with air conditioning and the curtains drawn and pans and pails of water sitting around to put moisture in the house, the hot-dry just creeps through the walls and your skin to your very blood. I swear there's no hiding from it."

"How did it make you feel?"

"Like sitting in a frying pan. Pants stuck to our bottoms. Head felt two or three times bigger than normal. But the worst was the eyes. Seemed to dry right up. Them and my tongue. It was like my body couldn't hold enough water to keep from being full-parched every minute. It was

downright insufferable."

"I hear," said the Midwesterner, "that when a fellow drinks too much water it kind of leaches the nutrients out of him. That true?"

"I don't know," said the New Mexican. "With water scarce as hen's teeth, we never faced that problem."

"Were there many bloated cattle?"

"Let me put it this way. The only reason they didn't stink up the entire country was it was so dry that the corpses went straight from meat to bones -- no chance to rot. I swear there wasn't a ranch from Albuquerque to Flagstaff that didn't have piles of rib cages like you see in the movies. I wonder if those bleached-white bones are still there? I don't know 'cause I headed north that summer and never looked back. Had my fill of heat and dust, I tell you. And I've never regretted the move, either. I love the Southwest and know such spells happen infrequently, but I lived through one and that's one too many."

"I hear everything dried so bad the landscape turned brown."

"You betcha. Whole cities from Texas west were brown as cardboard. Fineable offense to sprinkle your lawn. I tell you, when the National Guard has to come in with water tanks, you know it's bad."

"How about the fires I heard of?" asked the man from the Midwest.

"Lots of folks think New Mexico's all desert but it's not. Thousands of acres of sagebrush, and when them balls get lit, it's best to stay clear, cause when they start rolling, they spread fire everywhere."

"Believe it. One of them four-foot fireballs hit a house and she lit up in the blink of an eye. National Guard did more than bring water, they protected full cities from being torched."

"What was the worst part of that summer?"

"All the death. Lost my herd, but also my cat and two dogs. When the pets get hit it all turns personal. That's why I hightailed it outta New Mexico. Couldn't stand seeing my pets go. If it was up to me, I'd live in a rain forest for the rest of my days. Speaking of rain, what was that summer like for the folks in Iowa?"

"Well, sir, in a way just the opposite of what you experienced."

"Yeah, I seen the pictures in the newspapers and on the tellyvision. Could hardly believe my eyes. Flooded fields and houses floating every which way. How'd you handle it??"

"Well," started the man from the Midwest, "I was pretty well isolated. I

suspect you saw more of the havoc on TV than me."

"Isolated? How so?"

"Well, it wasn't by choice. You see, I lived on the only high spot in a fifty-mile radius. So when the rains started, they turned all those fields into one big lake. My place became a regular island. And if you don't think that wasn't weird for an Iowa boy, then you just don't know weird.

"You see, most folks from Iowa don't know a boat from a bat, except the flat-bottomed John Boats we fish with. But I didn't have a John Boat or any other kind so I couldn't go anywhere anyway. The earth turned so gooey it was like those LaBrae tar pits in California that stuck the saber tooth tigers and all. The back roads were impassable."

"When did it all start?"

"April. We usually get good rains around Easter. Farmers can pretty well judge how crops'll be by how much falls in the Spring, as long as we get some every two weeks or so during the summer. Problem was that the April rains didn't stop. Kept on and off. Off long enough for farmers to get crops in is about all. They'd been better off going to the movies or watching TV, cause the number of farms that went under -- and I mean bankrupt as well as flooded -- was astronomical. The President was busy that summer, I tell you. Flew over Iowa on his way back from New Mexico. Hear tell he said he was amazed how two opposites could occur so close to each other in the same summer."

"Yeah, I remember. But how could one month of rain do so much damage?"

"Wasn't just April's rain. That's when shestarted. Sprinkled through May, then hit hard again in June. Problem was that the April rains hadn't soaked in before June's hit. Water table was level with the grass so there was nowhere for the water to go. Fields became lakes and farm ponds looked like oceans."

"And there we were with not enough water to wet our tongues," said the Southwesterner. "I hear you fellows couldn't keep it out of your basements."

"Yeah. The big joke that went around was about the Minister who said, "God will save me," so instead of going off in a friend's boat he moved upstairs. Kept raining and the preacher's sitting on the roof. "Preacher, hop in the boat and we'll save you." "No need," says the Minister. "God will save me." Then the water really rose and the preacher ups and drowns. When he's at the Pearly Gates he says, "God why did you let me

drown?" And God says, "I sent two boats."

"Never heard that one, but the one going around New Mexico was about the coyote and the rattlesnake. They were talking about how hot and dry it was and the coyote says, "It's so hot I feel like shaving off my fur to keep cool," and the rattlesnake says, "I did that last week." But listen, you said you were isolated on your land. Tell me about that."

"Well, sir, it was horrible. I mean, I don't mind being by myself, 'specially on the farm. Like you said, it's when the pets start going that it gets tough. No one to talk to, no companionship. Wife went East to visit relatives, took the kids and all, so when the floods hit and electricity and phones went out there was no TV or anything. I mean, take a fellow's family, his pets, and TV away and things close in."

"I know what you mean," said the New Mexican. "Once a tornadie cut through a swatch down the middle of the state and took a heap of poles with it. Just wasn't the same without electricity and phones. But you said you ran out of food, too."

"Think about it," said the Iowan. "When the stock drowns, there's no more to eat than when it bloats or dries up."

"Ain't it the truth. So, what did you eat? I mean, I up and left, but you couldn't go nowhere. How'd you keep alive?"

"Swear you won't tell a soul?"

"Cross my heart."

"Well, sir, I ate mice. And when I could cook them good, I ate rats, too."

"I'll be derned. But a man's gotta do what he's gotta do. I know folks in the Southwest ate bugs and rattlesnakes to keep alive. Guess it's not much different from rats and mice. How did it all end for you? You look healthy enough now."

"Helicopter," said the Iowan. "Weren't no other way. Guess my wife made calls and some emergency team flew over and saw my white flag tied to the chimney. But I'll warrant you this: I didn't wait for the third helicopter to high tail it out of there!"

"Guess we have a lot in common," mused the Southwesterner. "Both run off our land. And you know what? I warant it'll be a cold, wet day before I set foot in the Southwest again. Thinking of moving to Iowa."

"Yeah? Well, it'll be a hot, dry day before I go back to the Midwest. Think I'll move to New Mexico."