My dear friend, cover artist, webmaster and spiritual guru, Joey Walnuts, had a bad day. It was May 26, 2010—an historic day in Springfield, Illinois. What made this day so spectacular (and infamous) was the record rainfall of over four and a half inches in less than two hours. Some would say, oh, that’s no big deal. If you’re one of those people, all I can say is you weren’t there.
Four and a half inches in less than two hours can shut down an entire city—especially during evening rush hour. Flash flooding closes most roads. Viaducts fill with water so fast cars are over-come and, in some instances, completely covered. It’s a time for ordinary citizens to become instant heroes when they dive into rushing waters to pull people from such vehicles, rescuing mothers and small children.
Such a deluge closes businesses and schools when sewers back up and water floods buildings. Basements and homes fill. Cars are left stranded on streets-turned-river and tow companies start paying overtime. Owners of automotive centers and dealerships start rubbing their hands together in glee over all the money they’ll make repairing and replacing vehicles. Insurance carriers moan.
Joey’s basement was one that filled. Sadly, Joey was in St. Louis on a much-needed vacation.
It was his next door neighbor who called him, told him he’d better get home quick. By the time Joey made it back to Springfield, what was once a front walk-out of a finished basement was now an empty cavern. He could not see much of the damage due to the water that was still so high, but he knew life had just changed, and not necessarily for the better. Five and a half feet of water in your home has a tendency to do that.
To make matters worse, the under-ground pipes that carried raw sewage to the treatment facility were completely defeated. They gave under the onslaught, sending what could only be called “pooh geysers” bursting several feet straight up in the air. The filth mixed with the rainwater and mud, and flowed through Joey’s basement.
Can you say, “Yuck”?
Imagine standing in a neighbor’s yard watching all this with natural gas bubbling up through your house from broken lines, knowing there is nothing you can do. The man could not get near his home until the water receded. I’m sure the sight that greeted him when it did made him want to turn around and walk away.
There was a gaping hole in the front wall. Through that opening, much of what was once in his basement was washed out into his front yard. Among those items were walls, furniture, business suits, laundry machines, water heater, electronics and his furnace.
It wasn’t until they had bull-dozed away the wreckage out front that the true nature of the damage was learned. Everything was lost. The gas had been shut off, as had the power and the water. Everything had to be capped off before he could get the utilities turned on again. Then it was time to take inventory. Gone was his collection of vinyl, his comic books dating back to the ‘50’s, his stereo equipment and other valuables. Worst of all, he had lost all those endearing macaroni-on-paper creations from when his children were little. Photos, memories, an entire lifetime of accumulated smiles—all gone with the rush of a massive flash flood.
Yes, it was a bad day.
Okay, enough back-story. Joey has a lot of friends, a lot of people who had been helped by this wonderful man. Many of them work with him. His fellow employees, together with other friends, decided to put together a benefit for him. What a wonderful idea!
I wanted to help—beyond the obligatory selling of the tickets. I wanted to do more. The organizers had everything covered, so all I could think of was donating something for the silent bid auction and promoting it as much as possible. But what to donate…
The only logical thought was to donate a couple of novels—the very novels Joey decorated with his wonderful cover art. Thus was born “The Dark and Stormy Night Storm Preparedness Gift Package”. Yeah, I know. It’s a bad joke on poor Joey, but he has a good sense of humor.
The package was designed to have everything one needs to find solace and comfort in the midst of a storm-induced power outage: wine, chocolates, candles, matches, flashlight, book light, skin lotion to pamper, two Molly Wens novels and a teddy bear to keep one company.
Begin the anxiety.
It seemed like a good idea at the time, but when I finally got to the event, the only bid was from my sister. Not that I’m ungrateful, but who was next? My mom? How does one address something like this?
An hour later, there was another bid. At first I was thrilled—until I realized it was the guy who was bidding on all the items that weren’t selling well. You know the guy, the one who tries to drum up a little interest by putting down a low amount others could easily out-bid. He’s at every benefit, a friend of the recipient who knows how to play the game to the best financial advantage.
I started to feel like the proverbial red-headed step-child. “Nobody likes me, everybody hates me, I’m gonna eat a worm.”
I determined to stop looking. It was embarrassing, to say the least. Just a short time later, though, Joey approached with a big grin on his face. “Have you seen the bids on your books?” he asked.
I burned bright red. Of course I’d seen and I was mortified. He’d been introducing me around as the author all night, getting an obvious kick out of the family “celebrity”. (Did I mention that he’s my husband’s uncle?) Other celebs from local and state media and government were in attendance, but something about having an author in the family really tickled him. Yet, my basket’s showing was less than spectacular.
Laughing at the expression on my face, he said, “You should really have a look,” before snatching my hand and dragging me to the auction tables. I almost swallowed my face.The bids were many, more than doubled since last I looked, with several of the bidders apparently in a war over the package. At that point, they were bidding beyond the actual value.
Again, I blushed, feeling a different kind of embarrassment. This one was one I could live with. But, deciding it would be best to leave before the final outcome, I beat a hasty retreat before the moment of truth. Giving Joey a hug, I got out the door and headed for a local watering hole.
He told me later how much the winner paid. The person had paid $65.00 for a couple of my novels and a few assorted items.
Of course, all this is small potatoes when one stops to ponder the actual reason for the event. Joey ended up with enough to put a good dent in the money needed to make repairs. He was more than happy and everyone had a good time. He was afforded a rare opportunity to know where he stands in life—an opportunity so few of us has. What else was there?
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