Too many deaths

In Rapid City, we are aware of many ways that our history has defined our community. Even for those of us who moved to this area after 1972, the devastating flash flood that occurred overnight on June 9 -10, 1972 continues to shape our community. It is considered to be one of the worst flash floods in U.S. history. 238 people died. 118 were hospitalized. Every time we take a walk in one of the city’s parks alongside the creek, we see how a path has been cleared in the middle of the city in hopes of preventing future tragedy. There are interpretive signs along the greenway that show the results of the flood that has, in many ways, become one of the defining moments in the history of our town.

Perhaps we don’t appreciate history when we are living it. Maybe we have to allow for time to pass so that we can gain a bit of perspective. But from where I live, it seems to me that we are now living in the midst of another one of those defining moments of history. 403 South Dakotans have now died of COVID-19. They are mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons, grandparents, friends, relatives, coworkers, students, and teachers. They are people of all ages. They have left behind grieving friends and relatives. We are so deeply into the midst of this tragedy that it is difficult to know how long we will talk of the pandemic of 2020, or even if the rate of infection and death will drop by the end of the year. The number of South Dakotans who have died doubled in the month of October and October isn’t even over yet.

Over 400 South Dakotans are currently hospitalized with the disease caused by the virus.

Our governor is so busy campaigning out of state that she hasn’t been making many statements about the crisis here at home, but she has made it clear that she will not issue any mandates on masks or other tools that might be used to slow the spread of the virus. She cites her hands off approach as leadership that keeps the economic activity humming.

Back in 1972, when the flood occurred in Rapid City, Richard Kneip was running for re-election as governor. It was the last election of a governor for a two year term. The constitution of South Dakota was amended that year to increase the term of office for the governor to four years. Kneip was re-elected. It seems unlikely that he would have been had he spent the time following the flood out of state raising money and campaigning. Times change. Back in 1972, South Dakota was a two party state with Democrats and Republicans selected in statewide elections.

In 1997, when we observed the 25th anniversary of the flood, I read the names of the members of our congregation who died in the flood. I spoke of the funerals that were held. I told stories that had been shared with me about heroism and tragedy. I watched the faces of members of the congregation who had survived the flood as they remembered the grief and loss of that event.

I don’t know who will be leading the congregation in the future. The search for a new minister is expected to take a full two years. None of us can predict how that search will be shaped by the pandemic that is raging. None of us can predict which members of the congregation will next fall victim to the disease. What I do know is that I am moving on from this place. Its people, however, will always be a part of my life and will remain in my heart forever. I will never forget the grief that is sweeping our community and our state.

A decade before the Rapid City Flood, Bob Dylan released the first single of his second album. “Blowin’ in the Wind” quickly became an anthem of the times as our nation struggled with the Civil Rights Movement and sank deeper in the quagmire of the War in Vietnam. It is a series of hypothetical questions - questions that maybe cannot be answered. The tune is an adaptation of an old Spiritual, “No More Auction Block,” that addresses the tragedy, pain and grief that was caused by the enslavement of Africans in America. That song and its tune have been in my head as I bear witness to the events of this moment in the history of our state and of our nation: “How many deaths will it take till [they] know that too many people have died?”

Too many people have already died. And it looks like many more will die. Even though state officials are saying that they are ready to distribute a vaccine as soon as it is available, we don’t know how soon that will be. We don’t know how effective the vaccine will be. We don’t know how much will be available. What we do know is that the rate of death is rising exponentially. Even if the vaccine were to become immediately available the death toll could easily be three or four times as many as have already died. How many deaths will it take?

Of course it isn’t just South Dakota. This pandemic is worldwide. 229,000 deaths in the US. 1.18 million worldwide. And the death toll continues to rise. Historians remind us that the 1918 - 1920 Spanish flu pandemic was far more deadly. What they can’t tell us is how many deaths this pandemic will eventually cause.

Part of the life of a pastor is learning to face death and grief and loss head on. We don’t avoid the pain. We go to the places where grieving people are. The isolation of pandemic response and the isolation of being retired weighs heavily on me as I adjust to this new way of being. My instinct is to reach out to those who are grieving and to share their pain. My reality is that I must do that from a distance for now.

We are all in this together. And we don’t have the answers. “The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind. The answer is blowin’ in the wind.”

Copyright (c) 2020 by Ted E. Huffman. I wrote this. If you would like to share it, please direct your friends to my web site. If you'd like permission to copy, please send me an email. Thanks!

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