I was ten and we lived in a "modest" neighborhood not far from the center of Bristol. I remember excitment and fear as the wind bent trees and threw rain across the yard and at the windows. I recall the sound of the old stove in the basement banging against the first floor as the water rose.
We were not harmed, but anything stored in the basement was gone, a huge pile at the curb days later. I recall the smell of the silt that covered the streets and lawns. The high school athletic field was a pool, National Guardsmen patrolled the streets. There was a long line onn malodorous sidewalks for the shots that would protect us from disease.
My grandparents were in Sweden and we were to look after their house, a greater concern than the rented place we called home. We were scheduled to move to a new home in Unionville - it was washed into the river during the storm. I still drive by the spot and wonder what it was that spared us total loss.
The subsequent storm in October found my grandparents at home. Not having experienced the August assault, they were afraid and asked us to come across town to be with them. I remember closed roads, downed trees and dangling wires.
Odd, how we had fared the more severe storm in August with much less trauma. And how those who hadn't experienced it were terrified at the far less serious assault from Mother Nature.
My family was lucky, but the memories of the "Flood of'55" are deeply etched in my mind. Frightened, yes, but more importantly I believe the experience left me forever humbled and resigned to the power of Nature.
We were not harmed, but anything stored in the basement was gone, a huge pile at the curb days later. I recall the smell of the silt that covered the streets and lawns. The high school athletic field was a pool, National Guardsmen patrolled the streets. There was a long line onn malodorous sidewalks for the shots that would protect us from disease.
My grandparents were in Sweden and we were to look after their house, a greater concern than the rented place we called home. We were scheduled to move to a new home in Unionville - it was washed into the river during the storm. I still drive by the spot and wonder what it was that spared us total loss.
The subsequent storm in October found my grandparents at home. Not having experienced the August assault, they were afraid and asked us to come across town to be with them. I remember closed roads, downed trees and dangling wires.
Odd, how we had fared the more severe storm in August with much less trauma. And how those who hadn't experienced it were terrified at the far less serious assault from Mother Nature.
My family was lucky, but the memories of the "Flood of'55" are deeply etched in my mind. Frightened, yes, but more importantly I believe the experience left me forever humbled and resigned to the power of Nature.
L.A. for less than the price of sunblock. 
