Even two years later, the images are indelible.
On Aug. 28, 2011, the floods of Tropical Storm Irene surged through the rivers and streams of Vermont, gouging new pathways for the waters within.
For so many people in Windham County, particularly those who were living and working along these waterways, the impact ranged from disruptive to catastrophic.
The depth and breadth of Vermonters' resolve during this crisis was truly remarkable as neighbors, especially our EMS workers and volunteers, often risked their lives to pull others to safety.
In the days and weeks that followed, the news overflowed with life-affirming stories of resourcefulness and resilience and strength.
After the waters receded, it took only hours for people to begin cleaning up and starting anew. Vermonters created new pathways around obstacles. To see the state's infrastructure rebuilt within weeks and months was life-affirming and satisfying.
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But while life went on, it will never be the same.
Remnants of the flood are all around us, permanently baked into our physical surroundings, increasingly subtle as the wounds on the terrain heal. Long stretches of fresh pavement and guardrails, incongruously shiny and new. Incongruous areas of dirt covered with thin, tender grass. Buildings and property left behind on that terrible day.
Less obvious to the naked eye today, but no less heartbreaking, are other casualties of the flood.
The businesses that could never reopen or suffered immeasurably from the total chaos. The properties that will never be reclaimed or even washed away.
The myriad effects on the delicate ecosystems and on the health of our rivers.
Also, of course, the loss of life. Seven people died in Vermont as a result of the flooding, including two in Windham County: Anthony Doleszny, of Brattleboro, and Ivana Taseva, of Wilmington.
And we still, to this day, don't know what happened to Marble Arvidson. Whether the sudden disappearance of the young man was a result of or concurrent with the flood, the mystery is indelibly associated with Irene. He is not forgotten.
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This past Sunday in Newfane, for the second year in a row, townspeople orchestrated the Rock River Revival parade, where participants walked, drove, and rode along a brief stretch of road that was among the hardest hit in the state.
On this glorious, sunny day, people of all ages rode or walked alongside firetrucks, tractors, pickup trucks. They strode confidently, buoyantly, briskly along a path that two years ago lay beneath an unimaginable level of water, past the haunting remnants of houses that are no longer homes, past the ragweed and goldenrod growing rampantly on land that was once a front yard and now remains a property caught in the limbo and exasperating bureaucratic reality of federal flood relief programs.
It was a stark reminder by parade organizers that recovery from this flooding is still not complete and, for some people affected, it will never be.
Yet a community grew stronger in so many ways. As it did in all so many ways all throughout Vermont, the disaster brought out the best in them and brought them together. In marching on that same road where those waters once flowed, Newfane residents and their friends and supporters found their own inseparable mix of affirmation and commemoration.
And similarly, on this second anniversary of Irene, all those affected by this natural disaster should contemplate their resilience and take stock of what was lost, what changed, and what was strengthened by those muddy, toxic, terrifying waters.