As rainstorms continued from Tuesday night into Wednesday morning, Lynn saw a fair amount of flooding on some of its roads. I have always been fascinated by water. I have lived by seas and rivers for most of my life, and many of my best memories are from beaches and boardwalks.
Water can symbolize all sorts of things in fiction, and flood narratives in particular have been extremely important in human history. And as those who have read my column “The Day of Reckoning” can attest, I am also very interested in things that are not where they are supposed to be.
So when I heard about an opportunity to see a lot of water where it wasn’t supposed to be on Camden Street, I couldn’t miss it.
When I arrived, a vast puddle stretched across the street, reaching well above my ankles at its deepest point. Between the leaves and Dunkin’ cups caught in the water, I could see the overcast sky reflected in it, along with a glimmer of light from the sun hiding behind the clouds. I took a minute to imagine a world where all of Lynn was this way, with homes divided by canals like in Venice or Amsterdam.
This city might not have any gondolas, but cars can work in a pinch. Of the cars I saw heading down Camden Street that day, only one turned around instead of braving the water. The rest of the drivers all drove into the shallow part of the puddle, stopped briefly, then thought, “I can probably make this,” and drove on, sending waves crashing through the street’s sidewalks and driveway.
I saw one sedan that kept weaving into different driveways, water pouring off its doors in these dry moments before it went back into the depths. I assumed the driver was trying to keep their car’s undercarriage from getting too wet at once, maybe out of a concern for rust. It wasn’t until he opened his door and got out carrying two boxes of pizza that I realized he was a delivery man who wasn’t sure which house he was supposed to bring the order to.
As he got out of the car, two boys walked out of the house, looking to go to the end of the street without getting soaked. They tried a tightrope act across a small brick wall, but they couldn’t continue when they reached a chain-link fence before the puddle ended. The delivery man offered to give them a ride to the end of the temporary lake. After the shortest carpool in the city’s history, the boys left the car and walked toward Cooper Street and the rest of their day.
It’s not every day that you wake up and find that your house is suddenly waterfront property. Despite the difficulties it brings, it doesn’t bring life in Lynn to a screeching halt. People still have to go about their days, treading water in their cars. Some try to find different ways to get around the flooded-out road. Others help out as they can, offering rides to those who need them. Later, they might be grateful that this was the biggest obstacle they had to confront that day. But in the meantime, they just try to keep their heads above water.
Stuart Foster is The Item’s opinion editor.
