The Town that Helped Save Mine: Visiting Falmouth, MA
My cousin Emily was born just 11 days before me. This is important because it was at her birthday party in 1997, just days before my own 6th birthday where I overheard the adults in our family talking about the incredible amounts of rain in the weather forecast. “With all this rain headed this way, someone’s going to have to build an ark,” they said. It had already been pouring for days.
As an almost-6-year-old, this news only squashed my hopes and dreams of outdoor recess at school. Unbeknownst to me, devastating floodwaters would soon overtake our small community, canceling recess, and all public school, for several weeks. Canceled school was nothing in comparison to the path of destruction it would leave in its wake.
Our immediate family was lucky. We lived on a hill on the outskirts of town to the north, with quick access to neighboring communities. Unfortunately, many of our family & friends lived much closer to the Licking River which crested and left behind a devastating trail of mud. The night that the river began to crest, my dad received a call from a family member in need of urgent help. He laced up his boots and helped them pack as much as they could before the river swept over their home.
My strongest memory from that time, which I can still picture as clear as day, was the morning that my parents took us to our nearby school, Northern Elementary. The school sits elevated above our downtown area, overlooking the neighborhood of Eastside Park. On that particular morning, all we could see were the roofs of the Eastside Park homes. The rest of the neighborhood was completely obscured by muddy waters. A floral armchair, where someone once sat telling stories, drifted solemnly out of the neighborhood and down the highway almost as if it too wished to escape the destruction.
Aerial view of Falmouth, KY during the flood, Cincinnati Enquirer
When the floodwaters finally receded, our towns of Falmouth and Butler were decimated. We visited the house of my great-grandmother, who died one month before the flood, but all of her belongings were caked in mud. My mother has often said throughout the years that she regretted bringing my little brother who was 3-years-old at the time because the visions of Grandma Ann’s mud-caked house gave him lingering nightmares.
Nonetheless, our community is small but mighty. Neighbors and friends pitched in to help clean out the mud and rebuild homes and businesses.
Fortunately, we also had a lot of outside help.
While my memories are faint from the time, my mother always praised the town of Falmouth, MA for stepping in to host collection drives and send volunteer teams. It wasn’t until last year that I discovered that this town who shared our namesake also donated our first Pendleton County Search & Rescue boat to ensure that future lives would be saved in our hometown. From a young age, I regarded the town of Falmouth, MA as a town of heroes.
When we planned our trip to the Cape Cod area, I knew that I wanted to stop by and see the town of Falmouth.
A coastal town filled with charming shops & dining options, Falmouth stands as the portal to the rest of Cape Cod, where visitors stop by en route to other destinations. But to me, visiting meant so much more.
As we walked the streets and stopped for dinner, I reminisced with my husband. He lived in St. Louis, MO at the time, far away from the Flood of 1997. I was surprised to find that I started to get a little choked up as I reflected on all I could remember and recounted the stories that had been passed down to me in the decades since that devastating time.
In our town’s darkest hour, with death and destruction surrounding us, a town full of strangers was ready to step in and help us pick up the pieces. Two and a half decades later, the signs of the flood are few and far between. But the scars are still there, as are the bandages placed by folks who lived 15 hours away.
My travels have taken me to many places, but the town of Falmouth, MA is one I will never forget.
Falmouth, MA