The 1970 Labor Day Storm, continued

The worst part about the 1970 Labor Day Storm was the aftermath.  I suppose that's the way with most disasters. While we were stuck on the side of the road, caught between the washed out Sycamore Creek bridge ahead and the crumbling highway back to Payson behind, it was scary but exciting.  As we camped at the highway maintenance yard, waiting for the roads to be made passable, it felt like we were in the middle of an adventure.  But when we were finally able to turn back and inch our way around half missing parts of the highway, past piles of boulders that had hastily been pushed to the side of the road, through drenched communities like Payson and Camp Verde, and finally back through Phoenix to home, we were tired, grumpy, and ready to be done with the whole thing.  It was late Sunday evening before we got to Mesa, dropped Grandma and Grandpa and our cousins off at their homes, and finally drove into our own driveway.  But the work had only just begun, especially for dad.

The previous Sunday dad had been called to be the new Bishop of our ward.  Being stuck on the highway meant he missed his first Sunday, so dad's first official act as Bishop was preparing for and conducting Gib Duthie's funeral.  Gib was the highway patrolman killed at Sycamore Creek when he tried to drive up from the valley and didn't know the bridge had washed out.  He was also our neighbor. 

While dad spent Sunday evening with the Duthies the job of unpacking the camper, putting everything away, and starting the laundry was left to mom and us kids.  I don't suppose we helped  a whole lot.  We were tired, dirty and hungry.  The little girls were fussy and none of us wanted to work.  In the end mom let us unpack the most necessary things, she made an omelet for supper, and we let the rest of the work wait for Monday morning.  Of course, that meant Labor Day was spent cleaning up from the trip, which wasn't the way we wanted to spend our holiday.  Not that there was ever anything fun to do on Labor Day until the Bar-B-Q at Grandma Johnson's in the evening.  I know the Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy Telethon was a very important event, but it sure did mess up the weekend for us kids.  We couldn't watch any of our favorite programs! 

For me, the worst part about the end of our adventure was that we were home in time to get ready for school to start on Tuesday.  Wasn't I ever going to get to miss having to go to school?  My brothers and sisters really enjoyed the day before school started, gathering up their new folders and notebooks, pencils and erasers, choosing what clothes they would wear, preparing their sack lunches and getting everything ready.  I hated it.  You would think by the time I was going into 9th grade I would be over my fear of going to school, but I wasn't.  I was better able to handle the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach,  I knew I would survive the first day, I wouldn't get lost or forget my room numbers, but I sure didn't look forward to it, just the same.

From the news we learned the rest of the story about the Labor Day Storm.  It turned out it was caused by the remnant of hurricane Norma, out in the Pacific ocean.  Although the hurricane broke up and never actually made it to shore, the moisture it pushed into Arizona caused the deadliest storm in history.  In 24 hours we got more rain than we usually got in an entire year.  Twenty-three people were killed in Arizona, including 14 people on Tonto Creek, just after we drove through on our way home from the cabin.  We had no idea at the time, but we were very blessed that we got out of the cabin when we did, that dad was inspired to drive home the way we went, and that we had the camper, food, blankets and everything else we needed to keep us safe until we finally got home.  (Just the same, I would have been happier if I could have missed the first day of school.)