For two decades, Connemara has bred a deep sense of familiarity and community in its residents.
The Lawrenceville subdivision has large homes and rolling, wooded lots. But the residents of its 258 households say its most unifying feature may be the singular entrance off River Drive. Every day, neighbors drive in and out past the pool, the tennis courts and landscaped areas where concerts and bonfires are common. They see each other, wave and chat.
But when the creek and river that bound the subdivision swelled with flood waters early Monday and covered that road, Connemara suddenly had a moat but no drawbridge. Homes were flooded, husbands were separated from wives, hundreds of work days were lost.
It was a scene replicated in countless neighborhoods across metro Atlanta. Some had it much worse, some not as bad. The Connemara community remained waterbound for two days until the waters receded Wednesday and the cleanup could begin.
A community rallies
At first, the flooding seemed troublesome but not threatening. A video of Connemara homeowners association president David Plumlee calmly kayaking out to check on the flooded pool was posted Monday afternoon on the Internet. “There’s something about the neighborhood; there’s a chemistry here,” Plumlee observed Monday. “It’s a little bit of hometown America.”
They were cut off, so neighbors figured, why not make the best of the situation? They organized an impromptu picnic in the street for 4 p.m. But a late-afternoon deluge sent them scrambling. Soon, they realized this wasn’t going to be a block party.
Paula Lavin, a 15-year Connemara resident, was doubled over by a pain not unlike childbirth. She called a friend to take her to the hospital. Then she learned the road out was several feet under water.
Paramedics drove a circuitous route to the rear of the subdivision, scaled a railroad embankment, crossed a marshy thicket and broke down a wooden fence. Minutes later, Lavin and her ailing appendix were being carried out by two teams of EMTs “in a caged thing” over that same route.
“In this neighborhood, everyone knows everyone,” said Lavin. “People dropped everything and rallied around each other. They rallied around me.”
Accepting their fate
Next door, Rick and Tracey Coble and a team of neighbors carried the couple’s first-floor possessions upstairs and hoisted their piano atop cinderblocks. As they awaited the inevitable, Tracey played a brave version of “Heart and Soul.”
Soon, water flowed through their vents. For a few moments, they tried to stem the flow with towels. But they quickly realized the futility. “We accepted it and went upstairs,” she said.
Tuesday morning found the waters receding and homeowners tearing up carpets and flooring, carrying out water-logged possessions and calling insurance agents.
Scott Krill surveyed the flood damage on the ground floor of the home he built 18 years ago on nearly four acres. A for-sale sign out front heralded one of the home’s chief features, one that had helped woo a young couple to put a contract on the property: “River Lot,” the sign said.
As he mopped up Tuesday, Krill was skeptical but still hopeful the sale could go through. The next day, Susan, his wife, was busy emptying moving boxes. “We have to make it look like someone lives here,” she said. The buyers had backed out. The home was back up for sale.
A deal gets done
The storms and flooding couldn’t sink another deal, though. Connemara resident Phil Edwards, owner of Grapefields, a wine distributor, had scheduled an important meeting with representatives from another company to trade distribution rights for several brands — a $210,000 deal. With a few phone calls and e-mails, the business was done.
“Ten years ago, you couldn’t do this,” Edwards said.
By Tuesday afternoon, residents still stuck on the inside were optimistic. The water had receded enough to see people at the entrance almost a quarter-mile away. One of them was Mike Williams’ wife, Pam, a nurse who got out of the subdivision early Monday before the road flooded. The two talked by cell phone but couldn’t see each other.
An elderly resident loudly told others an emergency entrance to the subdivision was needed.
But hardly anyone else seconded that opinion, even Paula Lavin, who was healing from emergency surgery.
“It was a one-in-a-hundred thing,” she said.
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