Minnesota poet Philip Bryant has some words of comfort for the residents of the Gulf Coast in the face of the undersea oil gusher. Bryant, who teaches English at Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, has seen hope return after a disaster.
Minnesota poet Philip Bryant has some words of comfort for the residents of the Gulf Coast in the face of the undersea oil gusher. Bryant, who teaches English at Gustavus Adolphus College in St. Peter, has seen hope return after a disaster.
SPEAKER: South of the cities on Highway 169, about 12 miles outside of St. Peter. The highway takes a steep dip down into the Minnesota River Valley. It winds around lush, wooded bluffs and hilltops as it hugs the river all the way into town.
At this time of year, the Valley is at its greenest and grandest. It's a scene that could be found on a picture postcard. But there was a time when the Valley didn't look this way at all. In fact, for the last 12 years, it's been on a steady, quiet comeback.
On March 29th, 1998, an F3 tornado ripped through St. Peter. And in a matter of minutes, it left most of the town and campus of Gustavus Adolphus College in ruins. 500 homes and buildings were destroyed. 17,000 trees were blown down in St. Peter alone.
Old growth oaks, ash, and cottonwoods four stories high were uprooted as easily as someone would pull a toothpick out of a martini olive. For years afterwards, I looked out over this valley that now stood wasted, treeless, sheared, and clipped down to its bare bones and seriously questioned whether this area, the town of St. Peter or the college, could ever return to what they were before the storm.
I'm sure the residents of the Gulf Coast are asking the same questions now. How can the Gulf possibly come back from the total devastation the oil spill is visiting upon its rich coastal marshlands and irreplaceable ecosystems?
Yet, 12 years after the Great March 29th tornado, the town and the college have recovered and are rebuilt. From my office window on campus, I can look eastward and see the thousands of saplings planted after the storm have taken firm root. They're trees now.
They've grown so tall they mostly obscure the houses and buildings in town. Call it a part of that quiet, yet steady comeback. Drive down from the cities on Highway 169, bring a camera along, and snap a few postcard perfect photographs of the River Valley while it's at its greenest and grandest.
We can only hope for something similar to happen perhaps in 12 years time in the Gulf Coast region, the great pall of spilt oil cleaned up and dispersed, the pristine coastal beaches, fragile natural habitats and marshlands restored, protected, and preserved. Shrimp, oysters, and fish plentiful again. And like this lush green Minnesota River Valley, all making their quiet, yet steady comeback.
Digitization made possible by the National Historical Publications & Records Commission.
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