One month later, Connellsville flood victim faces daunting task of rebuilding ’empty, broken home’
Mrs. Kimberly Palaisa sits by the window with tears in her eyes, imagining a white fluffy carpet, the fresh smell of her shampoo and conditioner still present on her pillows as she climbs into her bed sheets after a long grueling day at work, remembering the sweet caramelized smell of apple pie that fills each room.
The window she sits by is not hers, the carpet is not hers, and the smell that surrounds her is not apple pie; those simple pleasures are replaced by the smell of her brother’s house and the view from her brother’s window.
“I miss my home,” says Mrs. Palaisa sadly. “I miss every little thing.”
It has been a month since water invaded Connellsville with the aftermath of a freakish, intense thunderstorm that caused the flood still littering the streets. Volunteer workers and residents clean up debris and the remnants of houses that are no longer homes.
At 510 North Avenue stands the empty, broken home of Mrs. Palaisa. A home once filled with love and joy is now filled with thick brown mud and soggy carpeting.
“I felt at home when I lay in my bed, and the smell of apple pie was always present,” she says. “But now it’s filled with the rancid smell of mud and water.
The night of the flood – which sent torrents of water down Connellsville’s main streets with flood waters reaching five feet in some homes in a 30-minute cloudburst – Mrs. Palaisa was on the phone with her niece Amy.
“I was talking to Amy. I talked to her for 15 minutes and I told her that the water had to go somewhere and it would most likely come here,” Mrs. Palaisa remembered. “Not even five minutes after I hung up it happened. I’ve never seen water move so fast. It looked exactly like the rapida at Ohiopyle (State Park). It wasn’t like a normal flood that moves gradually; it was like a dam breaking.”
Mrs. Palaisa watched with horror as the water rose higher every second. The power went out and her house was filled with water. Inside she and her husband stood in three feet of water and hoped for the best. Connellsville officials later declared a state of emergency, and the first day of classes in the Connellsville School District were postponed for a week.
“It was like a 20-minute nightmare. We have a five-foot fence, and it was covered completely as well as our cars,” she said. “Once the water had gotten so deep, there was only one thing left to do. So we prayed to God and I told my husband that either the water takes us home or He (God) saves us. I mean, we were standing in three feet of water inside our living room praying for our lives.”
And then their prayers were answered.
Shouts of “is anyone still here?” and “does anyone need help?” came soon after the water seeped away.
“It was like the scene from Titanic,” said Mrs. Palaisa.
Volunteer fireman treaded carefully toward the couple and escorted them to the truck that would take them to their temporary home at her sister in-laws.
With tears in her eyes and her husband holding her, she left behind her grandmother’s estate that held so many memories: her son’s graduation party, the time the dog stole the turkey leg off of the table, and the lifelong span of memories raising her children in her home.
The days after the flood could only be described as resembling a war zone.
“Devastation. All of the mud had to be at least four inches thick,” Mrs. Palaisa said. “There were cars that had washed down the road and ended up smashed against the fence of the baseball field. They (the residents) were ripping houses apart, trying to box up anything they could save.”
Mrs. Palaisa’s father, Nevin Kuhns, was a country singer. The family kept cassettes and 8-track tapes of his music, but sadly they were lost in the flood along with many precious photos that are now gone.
Mrs. Palaisa’s great niece, Haley Rollinson, who is a senior at Southmoreland, helped to clean out her house.
“It was a very dangerous situation to be in. You didn’t know what you would find or what could happen,” Rollinson said. “There were a lot of things that we found that brought back vivid memories. And since my great-grandfather passed away in 2001, we can’t get them back. They’re irreplaceable.”
The once white house was now covered in streaks of mud and sediment. The yard became a swamp, and the white fence that stood in the yard is broken into pieces. Mrs. Palaisa’s safe haven became a safety hazard.
The carpet that was soft and fluffy was stained a dirty brown and became a sopping mud puddle as a result of the pounding flood waters. The aroma of apple pie vanished and was replaced by the smell of mold and mud. The house was nothing more than an abandoned shell harboring previous memories of a home.
“I was very sad when I saw all the damage. My speakers were knocked down, my VHS tapes and CD’s were scattered around on the floor of my living room,” Mrs. Palaisa said. “My old cedar chest that I had since 1977 that sat at the end of my bed was pushed up against my dresser. I was completely astonished at what I found.”
With heavy hearts, Mrs. Palaisa and her husband got to work tearing apart their house. Every piece of siding, every piece of carpet that was torn up was a piece of their hearts ripped away.
“The amount of volunteers who showed up in our neighborhood was astonishing. They were an awesome bunch of people with good hearts,” she said.
Mrs. Palaisa was told that her and her husband’s house is uninhabitable and almost $90,000 too expensive to repair.
“I have every intention of moving back, but they’re telling us different options and it depends on the financial aid that we get,” she said. “We made signs that said ‘We’ll be back, love Dan and Kim,’ and another one said ‘God bless you all.’”
Mrs. Palaisa has lived on her grandmother’s estate since 1985.
“I have lived there for 31 years. It was my mother’s home place and my home. If we can’t rebuild we’re going to find somewhere else to live in Connellsville,” she said emphatically. “I’m not leaving Connellsville.”
But the Palaisa’s love for Connellsville can’t surpass the love of her family, friends, and even complete strangers.
“I’ve been receiving donations from friends through the mail and people I don’t even know,” Mrs. Palaisa said. “We got a card from Oklahoma, from friends that I haven’t seen since we graduated, and they sent donations as well. I even had people give me furniture, but I have nowhere to put it.”
The idea of demolition has weighed on Mrs. Palaisa’s heart and mind since she learned that her house was inhabitable. The last thing she wants to do is destroy her home that held most of her life memories of birthdays, Christmases, and irreplaceable moments of love.
The house of Mrs. Palaisa’s sister in-law is now their temporary home. Every day is a struggle, but every day is also a blessing for them with the help of their family and a certain furry friend.
“My sister in-law’s dog is our only sunshine now,” said Mrs. Palaisa.
That fateful Sunday night was filled with the sound of raging water, but now the chirp of crickets and the zooming of cars fill the night once again. The neighborhood sits silent with wood and cement shells standing empty and dark without the light and the love that once shone bright through everyone’s windows.
But Kim Palaisa knows a home is more than wood and concrete.
“I will forever be grateful,” she said softly, “for so many caring people in my life.”
Sarah Garvin
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This presented a side of the flood that many people can’t even begin to imagine. Amazing writing, Sarah!
This is so amazing, I teared up reading it. Great job telling my aunt’s story Sarah!
Very well written. I love how descriptive it is. Good job!