Except for a few "year-later" stories on the news and in the papers, last summer's floods have been all but forgotten by many in Illinois. Television coverage of flooded farmland and people laboring to save their levees dried up long ago. The devastation of river towns like Valmeyer and Keithsburg is old news. But meeting with people who still live in these areas, one learns that in many ways the flood isn't anywhere close to being over for them.

These are the people whose homes, farms and businesses were among the estimated $12 billion to $16 billion worth of property damaged by flood water. Though some have rebuilt or replaced their homes on the same sites, their neighborhoods have become virtual ghost towns filled with boarded-up buildings. Others remain effectively homeless, living with relatives or in temporary housing and looking forward to a time when they'll return to repaired homes or move into new ones away from the water.

Some people were enriched by the flood; it was a catalyst to set priorities for what was important in their lives, and it spurred people to help each other in ways rarely seen. But in large part, the flood has left a streak of loneliness and uncertainty along the Mississippi and Illinois rivers. So while national attention has moved on to other crises, many flood stories continue.

SHARON REASON, Keithsburg
Although she's not a native of Keithsburg, Sharon Reason is about as proud as anyone of this little Mississippi River city that was drenched in last year's flood. Since moving there in 1976, she's served as city treasurer and deputy city clerk before being elected city clerk in 1980, a position she still holds. And in 1985 she started a small museum, which has been named in her honor, to preserve the town's history.

While her home was spared in last year's flood, which covered two-thirds of this town of 747, the motel she and her husband Clarence run in Keithsburg's historic downtown district was flooded and out of commission for months. Ten feet of water stood inside for 30 days, spawning mold that hung in sheets from the motel's ceiling.

Since then have come recovery efforts, which often have been more depressing than the initial flood. "At first, we had CNN, the BBC, all the national media coming in," Reason says. "The governor and comptroller [Dawn dark Netsch] flew in by helicopter. Every day it was something; for four weeks we were so busy we couldn't think. After that, the reality of what was to come started sinking in."

Many Keithsburg residents still live in trailers owned by the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Some are awaiting word on whether they qualify for a federal buyout, in which the government assesses a property's pre-flood value and offers to buy it from the owner so he or she can move to a safer area. No future building is allowed on sites that have been purchased in such a buyout. Other people, whose homes were bought out, are waiting for their new homes to be built. So far, 80 homes and 31 lots in the Keithsburg floodplain have been sold in the government buyout. A new subdivision on higher ground in the city is going up for displaced residents, but it won't be complete for another few years.

Many Keithsburg residents still live in trailers owned by the Federal Emergency Management Agency. Some are awaiting word on whether they'll get a federal buyout

Business owners like the Reasons say they've had to contend with a lot, too, such as conflicting information and unanswered questions about their motel's fate. "First we were told that if a business was located in the floodplain, like ours is, then we couldn't rebuild the part that was lost, which was our whole first floor," Reason says. "So we started building an elevated addition with four new units to replace the ones we lost. But after we got it started, a flood coordinator was hired for Keithsburg and she said that since our building wasn't 50 percent damaged, we could use the bottom part." FEMA officials say such conflicting information could have resulted from different people interpreting rules and assessing damage in different ways during the first chaotic weeks of the flooding.

The Reasons' motel was insured for $45,000 through the federal flood insurance program, and damage was assessed last summer at $14,000, an amount the Reasons unsuccessfully appealed. They didn't receive the last installment of the payment for another 10 months.

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But more depressing for Reasons is the death of parts of Keithsburg. As city clerk. Reason is one of the few employees at City Hall every day. Her job itself involves helping people navigate complicated paperwork needed for flood recovery, while her steady presence attracts people who simply need an understanding ear. "I know many people had just remodeled homes for retirement before the flood," she says. "They thought they'd be there the rest of their lives, but now they're in the process of starting all over again. They're still trying to cope with things day after day. Even men you think don't show a lot of emotion, they do."

Some people had to turn to doctors for prescriptions for anti-depressants to get them through the past year. And more tough times are ahead. "The places these people have lived in all their lives will be bulldozed, and that land will only be used for recreational parks, bike trails, for instance. I don't think people mind that part — having the parks. But I think it'll be hard when the bulldozers start coming through. They're taking down the old Christian church, which has been in existence 130 years. Some of the homes are more than 100 years old. Half of our town is elderly people, and I think that's going to have a real strong effect on them. I told them they should take a trip when it starts; that's not something they should have to be here to watch.

"You have to have a lot of faith that it'll wind up better than ever eventually. I've come to see that might take a while."

AL GROSBOLL, Springfield
When flooding was imminent last year, Gov. Jim Edgar gave his executive assistant on environmental regulation, Al Grosboll, the responsibility for coordinating the state's response and relief activities. Since then, Grosboll has spent much time trying to soothe the nerves and tempers of people whose lives were turned upside down by the flood. A year later, he continues responding to its damage. "I still spend about one-third of my time dealing with flood-related issues," he said in mid- August. "It's been more than a year, but many people are still out of their homes."

One of the most frustrating things people still contend with, he said, is waiting to find out if they're eligible for a government buyout of their property. Others are waiting for money from their buyout to reach their hands, Grosboll said. But with $41 million in buyouts going on throughout Illinois, it's going to take some time. "The problem is, there are so many different stages in the buyout," he said. "First, a city or county has to put together a package of homes that are going to be bought out. Then we have to approve it and submit it to the feds. Then the feds have to approve it. And then the assessments get started. So we are really just now beginning to see this go. By the time towns put together their buyout packages, it was only seven or eight months ago. I know people are frustrated that they don't have their checks, but the buyouts are literally just now beginning."

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Another common problem he hears is that people receive conflicting information from government agencies. "But you don't know if it's conflicting information from two different parties, or there's been a misunderstanding on the part of the person receiving the information, or what," Grosboll said. "Sometimes there's a difference of opinion: One person may say a piece of property has been damaged more than 50 percent and another may say it's less than 50 percent. And that can mean a big difference if someone wants to rebuild."

The most long-range complaints he hears are from people who want to raise all the river levees or think they all should be taken down. He credits a White House committee's report on flood plain management for giving careful consideration to everyone involved, and hopes it will still be the basis for eventual policy. "For the most part, the Corps of Engineers came in and did work to get levees back to the level they were at," Grosboll said. "But the White House committee said that if we're thinking about raising levees, we probably don't have the money to do it right. We have to make those decisions on a cost-benefit analysis, looking at the financial, community and social benefits and costs.

"On the other hand, some people got the impression that thousands and thousands, if not millions, of acres of farmland would be returned to wetlands. The report doesn't say that. I believe cost-benefit work will produce a situation where levees and higher levees are justified in some places, and in some places they're not. All that has yet to be decided by the federal government, with local decisions being decided by local and state levels of government."

In the meantime, he said, patience is key — though he acknowledges it's a lot to ask. "In some places, FEMA is paying 100 percent of everything, replacing all damaged property, and people are still furious. I've had to get up in front of people over and over and say, 'Gang, we are not the enemy. We're here to help you.' But that's human nature. These are people who are out of their homes. It's not easy."

KIRK FRAZIER, Quincy
Kirk Frazier lives in Quincy, but farms 300 acres of wheat, corn and soybeans about 12 miles north of the city, in his native Ursa. Like many farmers, he says, the flood's worst effects are hitting him now. "People didn't need as much help at the time of the flood as they did six months or a year or more later, because we had the money to live on from the previous year's crop," he says. "Now is when we don't have money to live on, since there was no crop last year. Between me and my parents, we're getting by. We used whatever savings we had."

Through a federal farm program, the Fraziers were able to recoup about 75 percent of their expenses for planting soybeans and corn in 1993 . But that aid only went so far. "We already were behind," he says. "Now we're barely making it. A lot of the farmers went bust, so they sold out. We talked about it. My dad's retired, and I've taken over the main part of farming for him, but we work together. But I hated just to leave the farm down, flooded out. I wanted to see it back on its feet. Our family's been farming there since the 1820s, which was part of why we decided not to give it up. Plus, it'd be hard to go to a factory and say you want a job. When they ask what experience you have, all you can say is: 'Farming.'"

Adding to the woes of a lost soybean and corn crop last year was the fact that flood water stood on the Frazier farm so long they couldn't plant their wheat last September. "The wheat sales would've helped tide us over longer financially, but we couldn't get it in," he says. "I don't know if a lot of people realize this, but most farmers start out in debt. They borrow money for seed and machinery to do the planting, then recoup it when they harvest the crop and sell. So farmers had already done their borrowing for the year, but then had no income to pay it off. This year they had to borrow even more, and we're all just hoping for a good crop."

Along with his crop, Frazier lost a large machine shed to the flood. "I still don't know what I can do about replacing the shed I lost," he says. "I'm still getting so many different answers about what kind of restrictions are going to be placed on building in the flood plain. First FEMA says all flood plain building restrictions will be the same. Now we found out they're leaving it up to individual counties. I really think they just don't want us there." FEMA officials say they will pass along guidelines to local governments regarding farm build- ings, and counties will write their own ordinances based on those guidelines.

"What really hurts is even some of the farmers not in the flood plain criticize us for farming there. Well, the river wouldn't be filled with silt if it weren't for the hill farmers; they're the ones who erode the soil, which fills in the river. And if you really looked at a dollar figure for disaster payments, farmers in non-flood areas have gotten more money over the years because of droughts, etc., than flood plain farmers.

"I know some people say we should make the whole flood- plain into wetlands. That's crazy. I don't think people have a scope of what it would do to communities. It would be devastating to the economy of this whole region in the long run. The farmers support the local businesses, which would go under. It would be a whole chain of things that would suffer."

Frazier feels strongly that flood plain farmers are being made the scapegoat for a problem that had little to do with them. "I still think if they'd raise the levees to 500-year levees, it would solve the problem," he says. Money has been authorized to repair broken levees, but no policy has been set on their future. A White House committee has recommended to President Clinton that levees along the upper Mississippi, often constructed by different private and public entities at varying heights, be better coordinated. The committee recommended that the Army Corps of Engineers and individual states be charged with overseeing construction, maintenance and repairs of all levees.

"People are tired of hearing about the flood, and I don't blame them," says Frazier. "They think it's over. It's really not over for me. Maybe after the harvest this year I can feel like I'm back in the cycle of bringing the crop in. This year we were able to put beans and corn in, and they're looking pretty decent.

"You know, back in 1965 the farmers cleaned up from the flood themselves. There was no FEMA. People took care of it themselves. I think most farmers would be happy if FEMA stayed out of our hair and we stayed out of theirs."

PAT SONDAG, Valmeyer
Last summer, Mississippi River flood water covered the entire Sondag family farm — all 1,000 acres of it. The corn, soybean and wheat crops were lost; the scores of hogs had to be moved to higher ground, then sold.

But with farming in the family for eight generations, it's not something Pat Sondag will give up easily, if ever — flood or no flood. So while most in his hometown of Valmeyer, population 897, took advantage of a federal buyout and are moving from the river flood plain to higher ground. Pat and his brother Doug are rebuilding their homes on the land they farm just a half-mile or so from the water. "Somebody needed to be living down here near the machinery and livestock and everything," Pat says. "We just have to be here."

Until a few years ago, the Sondags always bought flood insurance. But in 1992 their policy was unintentionally canceled when a salesman sent in the paperwork late. When no harm befell the farm that year, they decided to take their chances and forgo purchasing it in 1993. Little did they know the river would end up robbing them of their homes. For more than a year, Doug and his family have been staying in a FEMA trailer, while Pat has been staying with his parents in an apartment until he has the money to re-do his flooded home.

Before this summer — about 11 months after the levee broke — neither wanted to do much to their respective homes because the broken levee had yet to be repaired. "The Corps of Engineers seemed to be dragging their feet," Pat says. State officials contend that the sheer number of levee breaks near Valmeyer delayed repairs in some spots until others were completed. Finally, levee repairs near the Sondags' farm began July 1.

The river robbed them of their incomes as well. "It's been a real tight year. Some people went and got jobs on the side. I collected some unemployment, but now we're basically living on borrowed money."

Despite the losses, Pat seems to have retained an upbeat attitude. "It was hard to see the old town go. There were a lot of older people there who had the money, so they went and bought homes in nearby towns like Waterloo and Columbia. You know they'll never come back. On the other hand, a lot of the lots for the new town are being bought by people my age, in the 30-to-40-age range; so there are younger people in the area who are staying and making their homes there."

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And things were looking good in August for the 1994 crop . "We got it all planted this year except 10 acres, and we've had good amounts of rain for the most part. We bought 90 head of hog, which was different. Growing up we always had hogs, and they'd always breed. Now we have to start over completely. We're hoping it'll turn around real fast.

"Actually, I've been too busy to get real depressed. There are days you wish that you could get your home back after all this time. But our ground is still here, and the farm buildings are still here intact. And as far as people coming in to help, you don't know where to start thanking them. They came from Ohio, Pennsylvania, all over. It gives you a good frame of mind about people."

PAULINE TAMMEN, Hull
"Things are getting back to normal, I suppose. I'd say things are half-way back." Pauline Tammen has lived in Hull for 50 of her 76 years. It's where she raised her family, made friends, joined clubs, worked in the church. It's where she wants to stay. "My house was almost totaled, with five-and-a-half feet of water inside," she says.

While FEMA provided Tammen with places to stay through the fall and winter, volunteers from traveling Mennonite and Amish groups took on the daunting task of restoring her home. "Everything had to be redone: plastering, wiring — it was completely gutted. First I lived in a hotel for a while, then a mobile home, then another mobile home. I only got back in my house in June.

People ask me how I'm doing and I say, 'Pretty good,' and they tell me I don't sound like it It just seems like there's something lacking. I don't know what it is'

"But it's different to be back. Some neighbors haven't moved back yet. Some sold their houses and moved away and now they tell me they're depressed about that. All my shrubbery died; I had two big spruce trees that died. It sounds minor, but they're little things that help make your home half-way presentable."

Pauline lives alone now. Her husband died two months before flood waters swept through Hull last year. A month later, her only brother died. "The whole thing kind of doubled up on me," she says. "When you're alone it's hard to adjust. At first I didn't have time to do a lot of thinking: I was getting my things out, then I was moving from place to place, then my house was being repaired. But of late, there's a psychological effect. People ask me how I'm doing and I say, 'Pretty good,' and they tell me I don't sound like it.

"It just seems like there's something lacking. I don't know what it is."

Photo by Jennifer Halperin
Mary and Rick Rea of Niota lost their fully paid-for home and many of their possessions to the Mississippi River. They now make payments on a smaller, manufactured house they built on their former home's site. Their neighborhood was so devastated by flooding, says Rick, that "I think we may end up being the only ones living on our block."

MARY and RICK REA, Niota
Mary Rea was one of the first volunteers on the flood scene in the town of Niota, where she has lived for 26 years. First she kept busy preparing food for people trying to shore up the town's levee. And when the levee didn't hold, she took it upon herself to offer her services as the local flood relief coordinator, arranging to get plumbers, carpenters and work crews with the right equipment into Niota.

But amid all her work, she, too, lost quite a bit. Her large, sprawling home — fully paid for — was damaged beyond repair, and many of her family's belongings were lost. Furniture and appliances were destroyed. "Before the flood we figured we just about had it made," she says with a laugh. "We'd paid off our house. Our kids were grown. But we had to absolutely start over. We were back where we were when we were first married." She and her husband Rick applied to FEMA for assistance right away. They'd heard federal grants were available for some people who had lost personal property in the flood.

When they were turned down, they took out a Small Business Administration loan, bulldozed their house and put a down payment on a new manufactured home that now sits on their lot. The couple lived with Mary's brother in nearby Nauvoo during the fall, winter and spring; finally, this summer, they were able to go home. For all the changes they'd gone through — moving from a 15-room house they fully owned to a smaller home they have to make payments on — the Reas remained relatively upbeat. After all, they were among the first in Niota to be back home. And volunteers from Ohio and Indiana built a large deck on their home and planted flowers and bushes around it, which help offset the flood's devastation to their yard.

But now Mary and Rick look around at the still-dilapidated houses lining their town's roads and sense something unfair is going on. It seems FEMA decided to come back in and re-assess Niota residents' eligibility for aid. But because the Reas already spent money — albeit borrowed money — to get into a home, they say they are eligible for nothing. "FEMA said they have no money for reimbursing people. So we've been penalized for making a quick decision on what to do," Rick says. "They won't pay for things that have already been paid for."

This irritates Mary. "People who just sat on their butts and made no decisions will be helped," she says. "I think that's totally unfair. We put out a lot of money, including starting over with a new sewer and water system, which was $3,000.1 feel we really got the raw end of the deal."

But FEMA officials say flood victims who applied for aid could be reimbursed for essential expenses. "They could be reimbursed for out-of-pocket money spent on essential repairs," says spokeswoman Linda Sacia of FEMA's Chicago office. "That includes things done to make a house safe, sanitary and livable, like a water heater. We don't pay for new carpeting or new furniture."

Even though the Reas received no money back for their expenses, at least they are back home — which is more than they can say for many of the 92 families that were living in Niota. "Some people just gave up," says Mary. "It is so sad. Some of the senior citizens went into nursing homes. There was a group of five senior neighbors, one man and four women, who were like a little community themselves. Well, he moved back but the women went into homes for the elderly. He's all alone now."

A lot of the Reas' own neighbors still don't know whether they'll stay, says Rick. "I think we may end up being the only ones living on our block."

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More than a year after the Mississippi and Illinois rivers flooded, Cynthia Allensworth and Linda Kuenzli continue working with families with flood- related problems. They were recruited by a mutual friend to do outreach work through the Flood Recovery Center, funded through a patchwork of public monies and donations. People like Allensworth and Kuenzli visit clients in their homes — sometimes to check on what they need, and often just to listen.

Before the flood, neither woman could have dreamed she'd end up working with people who now have become such an integral part of their lives. Cynthia's background is in public broadcasting in Florida, while Linda has studied philosophy and holds a doctorate in education. Now they spend their work weeks and often their weekends visiting families in Adams, Pike and Hancock counties and figuring out how to help them. "We go in as friends, under the guise of handing out flood relief literature," says Allensworth. "This is important because if you say the word 'counseling' a lot of them wouldn't want any part of it. These are very independent people. Unfortunately, a lot of them are worse off emotionally than ever, even right when the flood was happening. They had expectations at the beginning that haven't been fulfilled. They thought in a year's time they'd be back in their homes, or have gone through the buyout so they could get a new home. But many haven't participated in buyout negotiations yet."

Some families have come a long way toward recovering, Kuenzli says, but others still have a lot of problems, not

Photo by Jennifer Halperin
Linda Kuenzli (left) and Cynthia Allensworth work with the Farm Resource Center in Quincy as part of Project Recovery, an effort to help flood victims deal with lingering problems and ongoing crises. Many people who had hoped to be back in their homes by now are still living in FEMA-owned trailers or with relatives, they say.

the least of which is facing at least one more winter in FEMA trailers, which don't heat well. "A lot of them are still living with relatives more than a year later, or in FEMA trailers," she says. "And they're still making payments on their old homes, which were totaled and are useless to them now. In Hancock County, a lot of tenant farmers who didn't own the property they lived on or farmed have no control over what happens to them. They can't make decisions on participating in buyouts, and they didn't qualify for any assistance because they didn't own the property that was damaged."

Allensworth and Kuenzli's jobs probably won't be funded past the end of this year, and they worry about how some of their clients will cope. "A lot of the older people we visit with can't live through it again," Allensworth says. "They're just hoping the buyout will allow them to relocate to a place that's safe and comfortable and dry. But when you're from a small town, the way of life is different; your neighbors become like your extended family. The flood forced a lot of neighbors to move out, so their support systems have been shattered. Now we're finding people feeling more frustrated and lonely than ever. And on top of it, they're saying: 'It's been a year; why am I not through it?'

"I know this whole thing has changed me," she says. "I was going to go back to Florida, or somewhere away, but I don't know now. The people I've worked with have changed me. Things that used to seem important, especially career-wise, just don't seem that important any more. I think working with people like I have, seeing how much they lost but how they keep going on, helps you sort out your priorities of what's important in life." 

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