My Memories of the Big Thompson Flood
The next day, I called her and told her some of what I had heard on the radio. "Don't try to come back tonight," I said. "They are predicting more rain and you should wait until daylight so you can see what you're getting into." "Sure, Mom," she readily agreed, but she didn't tell me about her near miss until Monday after she got home. The following week was tough for everyone as the dimensions of the search and rescue task became clear. Everyone who could, helped. I had some training and experience in crisis counseling, so on Monday I volunteered to go and help at the temporary morgue in Loveland. It was in the old high school and refrigeration trucks had been set up in the parking lot for the remains that were arriving. A group of us met to put together a form for collecting information about missing people. After that I helped interview anxious friends and relatives. When I had to explain that the bodies were going to be in bad shape and we would need dental charts or any skeletal information they could get for us, I could see shock and understanding in their eyes. I cushioned it a little by explaining that survivors were being evacuated by helicopter, and some were being led out on foot by rescuers, then taken to the hospital by cars or vans. Then, I referred them along to the therapists who were working in other rooms. Wednesday, I went back and spent most of the day calling all over the country to
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