Freshman walks around the washed out bridge by his house. It was brand new.
Last week I got to write my first college paper about the sprawl in my hometown of Douglasville. I had to re-write one of the paragraphs, the one pertaining to community. In the paragraph I talked about what an unfriendly, community-less place Douglasville is, how it was like living in a state of parallel isolation. This week, however, I noticed something different. Douglasville was hit pretty hard by the recent flood, and as the water rises the community that didn't seem to be there before emerges from the murky depths to rally together. The churches are setting up shelters and people are organizing search parties. Ben-Lucky Farms is taking in surviving horses from a mudslide ruined equine center, and school friends are staying with others who's houses didn't flood. It's a beautiful thing, but at the cost of several lives and homes.
It does makes me wonder: What does it take for people to remember that they are a community and not just a bunch of cohabitants of the same street?
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