I grew up in Unionville, Conn., and remember the flood very well. I was 6 years old and had a new baby sister to worry about. She was born on August 4th, 1955.
I remember trying to drive out of Unionville and all roads being flooded up to the doors of out old car. I remember waiting in the pouring rain in front of the Myrtle Mills department store to go over the steel bridge to get to my aunt and uncle's in Bristol. There we would all be safe, except for my beloved cats Pinky and Smokey, who I had to leave behind.
I remember the men in the pouring rain trying to get cars over the bridge safely as the water rose higher and higher . . . I remember the voices yelling "the bridge is going" I remember having to turn around in the road and not knowing where we were going. My mother's tears, my father's fear and my sister's soft crying. I remember my grandparents telling me that everything would be fine. "Don't worry, dear," my grandfather would say. It was hard to hear due to the pounding rain on the roof of that old car.
I remember sitting on the hill hearing helicopters and my mother worrying about warming up milk for my new sister. I remember my grandfather leaving the car with his umbrella and the milk bottles. Would I ever see him again? Where was he going? Why did I keep hearing helicopters overhead?
I remember the big old house with long dark heavy curtains and sleeping overnight at a stranger's home. I remember everyone saying "Do not touch anything, don't even touch the cotton on the trees or the fences or in the yards."
I remember having to stand in line at my school to get a shot. I remember returning home to find my garden washed away but most of all I remember finding Pinky and Smokey in the tree, starving . . .
I remember trying to drive out of Unionville and all roads being flooded up to the doors of out old car. I remember waiting in the pouring rain in front of the Myrtle Mills department store to go over the steel bridge to get to my aunt and uncle's in Bristol. There we would all be safe, except for my beloved cats Pinky and Smokey, who I had to leave behind.
I remember the men in the pouring rain trying to get cars over the bridge safely as the water rose higher and higher . . . I remember the voices yelling "the bridge is going" I remember having to turn around in the road and not knowing where we were going. My mother's tears, my father's fear and my sister's soft crying. I remember my grandparents telling me that everything would be fine. "Don't worry, dear," my grandfather would say. It was hard to hear due to the pounding rain on the roof of that old car.
I remember sitting on the hill hearing helicopters and my mother worrying about warming up milk for my new sister. I remember my grandfather leaving the car with his umbrella and the milk bottles. Would I ever see him again? Where was he going? Why did I keep hearing helicopters overhead?
I remember the big old house with long dark heavy curtains and sleeping overnight at a stranger's home. I remember everyone saying "Do not touch anything, don't even touch the cotton on the trees or the fences or in the yards."
I remember having to stand in line at my school to get a shot. I remember returning home to find my garden washed away but most of all I remember finding Pinky and Smokey in the tree, starving . . .
L.A. for less than the price of sunblock. 
