The meaning of community

My home on Delaware Drive was among the many flooded out on the flats. I applaud Tusten’s rapid response in providing several large dumpsters, where we could quickly discard our damaged furniture and appliances. Carol Wingert came by twice in a dump truck and took all of our wooden debris.

By 5:00 p.m. on Saturday, my son, his girlfriend and I concluded that it was imperative to remove all of our carpeting next. My son said if we just concentrate on the carpeting we could get it out before dark. We decided to call a man named Falk who had helped Mark earlier in carrying out a sofabed. Reluctantly, I phoned him. A Mrs. Falk answered and told me that all of the Falks were helping out at Tom’s house, “you know, the Narrowsburg Inn owner.” Much more reluctantly, I tiptoed onto Tom’s backyard, and privately asked him if I might be able to hire one of his workers. Tom turned to his group, and shouted out my request. I saw two heads nod affirmatively; another hand went up, and yet another guy said, “hell, let’s all go down and just do it”.

I had barely gotten back when the pickups arrived. My son was on the muddy floor asking me for big scissors, as his razor blade gadget wasn’t cutting it. I believe these men saw a much uglier scene than they had imagined. They quickly eyeballed it and agreed on an attack plan. Using their own utility knives, and later picks and crowbars, they began deconstructing the flood-damaged carpeting, walls, molding, etc. In one room, Tenbus had fastened two-by-fours into the concrete floor, placed insulation between the floor studs, then covered the entire floor with plywood and put carpeting on top. The guys decided they had to do it right, i.e. rip up everything and carry all into their trucks. They did everything that Dave Sparling directed me to have done and more, going well above the high-water line when they judged it necessary.

My guess is that this took more than two hours—my mini-family team would not have finished before dark (what dreamers we were.)

I did a quick ATM run, only to learn that none of the men would accept payment. I think their names were Barry, Dennis, Gary, Eric and son, and at least one more guy who hopped into his now un-white pickup and rode away—I think he may have been the Lone Ranger!

There were numerous other community members who came by with coffee, donuts, garbage bags... and lots of advice. Thanks to all. This is a “ community” in the finest sense of the term. Thanks.

Dave Garrahan

Narrowsburg, NY