The day I started hating the sound of rain was October 15, 1994. That’s the day that remnants of a Pacific hurricane parked itself over the Houston, Texas metro area. The sky opened up and dumped 25 inches on Conroe, Texas in less than a day. At one point, it rained five inches in one hour. We woke up that morning and could see water behind our house. There was a huge flood plain between us and the interstate. It looked like a lake. I walked out to take a look. Heavy rain pelted me as I walked to the covered bridge over the Stewart’s Creek. It was underwater.
Dammit. My stomach sank. The only road out was flooded.
My neighbors and I stood there watching fire ant balls flow past. We definitely didn’t want any part of that. Then we noticed that the creek was starting to flow backwards — not good. We lived near where Stewart’s Creek flowed into the San Jacinto River — which had gone from 3 feet to 33 feet in less than six hours. (101 cu. ft. of flow to 115,000 cu. ft. — a record that was just barely beat by Hurricane Harvey a couple of years ago). Water kept rising and crept up the bluff behind our home; officials said if we wanted to bring our pets we had to get out now. No pets on boat rescues. There was even talk of the dam failing.
We got out.
Amy and I put our furniture up on blocks and evacuated our new house. We had our dog and cat in their carriers and just the clothes on our back. Five inches of rain fell in the time it took for us to get to the bus on the other side of the neighborhood. The rain was falling so hard that it hurt — I’ve never seen rain that hard and I pray I never see it again.
I remember one evacuee saying she had half a glass of water and just threw in across her couch. “It’s not like it mattered.” Another had a Lab with an invisible fence collar. “Guess we don’t need this anymore.” Dark humor filled the bus as we made our way to a church.
After a phone call, my boss Chris Eddings took us in. And thankfully, when the river crested, our house didn’t get any water in it — it was close though. Many of my neighbors, however, weren’t so lucky. Over a third of our neighborhood (Mosswoods Heights) was flooded. River Plantation (right next to us) was devastated. Another person who wasn’t lucky was the man who tried to swim across the flood waters to rescue his trapped wife.
They found his body behind my house.
I killed snakes in the yard for weeks. The smells and the mosquitoes were overwhelming. Neighbors gutted their homes to the studs and started over. Staunch conservatives welcomed low-interest government loans. Neighbors helped neighbors. Recovery happened slowly.
Today, I still hate the sound of rain. And if you saw my house today, you’d laugh. I now live on a big hill — ABOVE the dam.
This afternoon, I saw the Pearl’s rising floodwater. And I have to admit, when I looked at its brown swirling water, I had a flashback. Watching water rise is a slow motion Hell.
I’ll just say this — My heart is with anyone affected by the Pearl’s wrath. Floods suck.
https://www.yourconroenews.com/125years/article/A-look-back-at-Conroe-s-1994-flood-12285323.php