Extremes

Darling, I don't know why I go to extremes,
Too high or too low, there ain't no in-betweens;
And if I stand or I fall,
It's all or nothing at all,
Darling, I don't know why I go to extremes.
                                                           -Billy Joel


Which is worse: a long, slow death by drought, or having everything swept away in an instant by a raging flood?

Every day there are more photos of Texas dying – cattle lying on the parched ground, too weak to stand; farmers forced to abandon their farms; catfish struggling to breathe in the shallows of a disappearing lake.

Then, over the past weekend, the images of a hurricane – water raging down once-inhabited streets; mature trees ripped from the ground; a daughter sobbing into her father’s lap on stairs that no longer lead to a front door.

I think a drought can feel worse because it takes so long for everything to die. A flood comes and goes in a matter of days. The destruction is terrible and yet over almost too fast to think about. Once over, it’s time to rebuild.

A drought drains resources as well as hope. One life after another is slowly shut down; places that may have made it through the battering winds of a storm stand no chance against the deliberate force of time. By the time relief comes, it may be too late.

Neither is better; I feel guilt watching the news and longing for Vermont’s rapid, raging water to pour down our rivers and refill our lakes. I don’t really want that extreme – I don’t want any extreme – but it can be hard not to reach for extremes when you are surrounded by one already.