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Unexpected Christmas Gift

Posted on Tuesday, December 26, 2023
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by AMAC, Robert B. Charles
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18 Comments
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Frozen Lake in Maine with Leaf

Sometimes the Christmas gift you get is not the one you expected. Sometimes it is better. On December 18, a big storm hit Maine. Power loss, damage, and flooding to rival 1936, it was an epic Maine storm. My lake began flooding, as the Androscoggin River backed into it.

Worse things lay ahead, not seen in a lifetime. As wind subsided, water rose. Six lakes flowed down from above, the river pushed water into the lake from below.

What had been skateable was now water. The lake began swallowing shoreline trees, crept ten feet from shore, then fifty, then two hundred, rose ten vertical feet.

Living on a peninsula, the lake now approached my home in front, from both sides, then gradually from behind, until there was no more road, no driveway, and no way out.

My car sat on the lowest level of the house, two levels overhead, but on that lowest also sat the furnace, heat pump, oil tanks, washer, drier, immovable belongings. I suddenly was an island.

As the 18th became 19th, 19th became 20th, temperatures began to fall – below freezing. Lake water kept rising, each morning fringed with ice, but higher. Sticks to mark high water around the house, built on a mound, were gone by morning.

That was the status December 21st, as water around the house began pushing higher on the mound, flowed under my front deck, crept toward the heat pump, and walked its way toward my garage door, until the lake was a handful of feet away.

For four days, then into the fifth, the only guarantee against freezing was a generator, five feet off the ground beside the propane tank, recently filled but also surrounded by water – and the furnace in my basement, keeping the home warm.

Every time I checked the water’s height, it was higher. Every time I convinced myself it had stopped rising, it rose. Only prayer and wishful thinking kept sanity.

The generator throbbed, furnace groaned, and heat filled the house, no other noises, no more high winds, roaring trees, flying branches, or big waves.

Internally, my mind flooded. Why were sandbags not at my disposal, why did that precaution not ever occur to me? Why leave the car in the garage when it could have been driven to high ground earlier? Why did a flood seem unrealistic, until it was real? What if the generator quit, propane or oil ran out, furnace got flooded?

What if…and then I remembered Christmas was coming, good things lay ahead, life was full, not all worry. I laughed at myself, lake half empty, like glass half full.

Night of the 21st, a few silent nights before the Silent Night, temps fell to 18 degrees, water stayed, refused to retreat, surrounded the house, but things were still dry.

The dogs now got uneasy. How did they know? Let out, they roamed our little island, littler than the day before, not at all like the world they were used to.

By morning of 22nd, enchantment of being an island had worn off, this adventure nowhere near as fun as it had been when it started.

Still, the lake had a mind of its own, seeming to rise then fall, wind picking it up a bit, then returning it like a flat sentry, guarding our little prison, our exit refused.

I did have a canoe, if worse came to worse, but that seemed extreme, until needed. That would mean the car and piping were done, not the story’s end my mind wanted. 

By mid-morning the 22nd, still no power, little retreat of the water, things seemed a bit like Robinson Crusoe, only with icy shores and pine needles not warm sand.

Funny how fond you can get of a generator’s purr, how admiring of its consistency, how tired of seeing water everywhere.

I thought of Noah searching his dove, Louis XV glibly warning “After me, the flood.” I would settle for a chickadee. Apparently Louis the XV had my lake in mind. December 23rd, still no power.

Then, suddenly, almost as suddenly as it had come, the flood began to retreat, running from the sides of my house back into the lakebed, leaving happy clutter.

The operational word is happy, because by some miracle, some remarkable, unthinkable, unexplainable, pray-fulfilling, chickadee-returning, curse breaking turn, my house, furnace, car, and basement did not flood.

By some wonder, the generator did not faulter, propane and oil not run out, and electricity did return – just in time, for a big Christmas “thank you.” Unexpected gifts are the best, and 2023’s yuletide will be long remembered – as warm and dry.

Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, attorney, and naval intelligence officer (USNR). He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (2018), and is National Spokesman for AMAC.

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Rob citizenship
Rob citizenship
9 months ago

That was some experience with the flood Robert, I’m thinking it could be described as an adventure of sorts – one that you did not plan or expect or want to happen , but it sounds as if you were well prepared in all the ways someone should be prepared for that sort of emergency. I do believe it is very right for you to write about the experience – it sure enough will be a good incentive for some people to think I’m terms of being prepared for an emergency like a flood. How you described the situation read like an adventure in a way , but I reckon the word adventure should really not be used – the experience – that is the better word – experience – will be a story that will benefit many and that is a noble contribution to society. I’m southeast Pennsylvania , siting an eagle is sort of a rare experience in this area , maybe once every few years or so, but just a few hours ago saw one that looked as if it was having difficulty flying , like maybe it was injured , as I approached it at about 20 foot distance it took off – ,this was near a small forest here – unexpected things always provide for new ideas.

Anne
Anne
9 months ago

Not sure I would remain calm in this situation. I became claustrophobic just reading it.
Hope the darkness remains in retreat for 2024! Merry Christmas Mr. Charles.

Rhoda
Rhoda
9 months ago

RBC, I can always tell by the title of the article which one is yours. This was so descriptive, I felt cold and shivered!! Glad it all worked out for you. A belated Merry Christmas.

Garyk
Garyk
9 months ago

A wonderful story with Thank God a happy ending!
Merry Christmas may 2024 be a healhy,happy prosperous year for all!

Old Silk
Old Silk
9 months ago

Quite a wild ride. Glad it turned out well.

SusanW
SusanW
9 months ago

What an incredible experience! Glad you and the dogs are all well and were blessed with a wonderful Christmas. Being raised in rural Maine prepared you for many challenging events. It’s just one of the prices you have to pay to be able to live in nirvana. It will also set the stage for many good stories and laughter. Let’s hope 2024 behaves and does not have a repeat performance. Stay well!

Rhonda
Rhonda
9 months ago

What a great writer you are! And I’m so glad you did not get flooded.

Pat R
Pat R
9 months ago

I would have been on my ‘weak’ knees praying the whole time. I’m surprised there was anywhere for the dogs to go when let out. But am glad it turned out the way it finally did.

Chuck
Chuck
9 months ago

Sounds pretty much like what we can mentally experience if the deep state gets its way carrying out its climate change schemes.

Smike
Smike
9 months ago

I can’t help but wonder why people are so stupid to live in such places and ignore the danger that is right in front of them. I don’t under stand it. I live in Washington state next to two volcanos with limited options of escape if they both erupt at the same time. My parents live a couple of miles from the Mississippi River. I remember going through at least 3 floods. I volunteered and went to war 3 times. I don’t know, are we blessed or just plain stupid…..

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