When I was a kid I lived in Union, Missouri for four years. My friends and I would often get together on a Sunday afternoon and hike along the Bourboise River, a small stream compared to the Mississippi. Back then it was still wild and untamed. Farmlands were adjacent to the Bourboise along our hike, but usually the foliage was underbrush along the edge of any existing fields. We also found some rocky hills and small cliffs that we climbed up, imaginings all sorts of adventures by exaggerating stories about what we were doing, and laughing all along the way. We learned to take snacks along because we used up so much energy. We were ordinarily hungry at that age. Using our minimally learned Spanish, we joked about walking to St. Louis with people we met, then tiptoed across a rail trestle. Afterwards I wished that I hadn't gone there. I had just discovered fear of heights watching water gurgling underneath me.
Eventually we arrived at a prominent rock that reached out into the river, which we clambered up onto and took seats overlooking the stream while chattering about everything important and facetious that came up among us. We may have waded in a bit, but never actually swam there. We had a pool in town for that.
Sometimes I found mussel shells or picked up an interesting rock. By the time we all got back to town I often went up to my room and slept all night, missing supper entirely, which worried my Mom a couple of times before she gave up on making me come to the dinner table. Did I have all my homework done? Oh maybe.
One May many years since then we woke up in St. Louis to the Flood of '93, which many remember as the stress of their lives around here. Services of the community were stretched thin over that time, and day after day images of the rivers, the breached levies, houses sometimes washing away or inundated to a degree that they might never be livable again met out eyes on the news. People donated food, money, clothing and helped however they could. That is how disasters usually affect us, as the people in Alabama have been doing. Everyone who escaped in one piece kicks in to help the others. In some ways it is an example of community kindness and spirit that renews our faith in humanity, oddly enough showing up a little better for the wear.
This is the first time in my life that I have ever heard of States
going to court to attempt to protect their own residences and land from the ravages of a shared flood. It seems like a territorial struggle that one might have wished could have been avoided by a conference call or something. So, Your Honor, what's up with this Army Corps of Engineers thinking that we have to lose out? And some foolish notions spoken in Jefferson City that were truly regrettable to most of the people I know. Of course, having lived in small towns,
I know such stuff might come up, but usually the spirit of cooperation overrides displays of territoriality. That aspect of the currently rising flood levels has puzzled the dickens out of me. My father had always loved the country and used to tell me that the bottom lands next to a river were especially rich and productive to growth because of the years they had flooded, leaving the rich river sediment as a topsoil for the years after.
In our current history, though, political drama is essential, I suppose, to ride on the rising currency of the news media, since campaign funds come with all sorts of strings. Personally I have been watching the water height rise at the levees south of here, wondering day by day how tough it is to decide when to blast a levy open. Our large rivers are so channelized nowadays that they can barely create their own path like they did in the days of Samuel Clemons.
On the other hand, some of the
infrastructure may be a little wobbly in places, and the increasing pressure of the weight up against levies, which are mainly dirt and sand, doesn't compare to a flood wall like we have in downtown St. Louis. As time goes on, with
climate change events becoming more recognizable and frequent, we may have to rethink how we manage resources regarding some places which are populous and others that are mainly farm lands. These decisions could be viewed as precedent setting. Scoping them out from the point of view of educated engineering principals seems to be a vital part of the process, and shouldn't be lightly dismissed by joking about which scene is more worthy. No teenage jokes please about small towns in another state.
As of now we are
still watching day by day what level the river will get up to, with more rain on the way. Sixty feet above flood level is the marker which the engineers are holding to, which is a tremendously huge amount of water pressure against any structure built by man. And to some extent they need to judge ahead of time when it will reach that target.
Suppose you were a
Supreme Court Justice. Would you want to have anything to do with making such an imperatively reasoned judgement, that is ordinarily
made by highly trained engineers? 
