Yes, Memphis, our part of the Flood of 2011 has finally made the national news; Brian Williams went live today to a broadcast from Memphis, where the reporter was standing on the hill behind the Montessori School in Harbor Town. We ran into the NBC crew on our walk tonight; they are from Ohio, Florida and Atlanta, and it sounded like they had already visited Miss Cordelia’s, our neighborhood grocery. (The same reporter from Memphis will be live on the Today show tomorrow, if you care.) CNN is also here, so we are officially on the national radar screen, which doesn’t often happen. (Remember during Hurricane Elvis when we didn’t even make the AP wire?) The NBC reporter talked to one of our neighbors who lives in a Marina Cottage Drive house — their basements/storage rooms are underwater now, and their first floors will go soon — and if you look closely you can see the sandbags now protecting the back of the school. (When I took this photo, I was standing near where the reporter was standing.) This makes me so sad — no kids’ school should flood, ever — though I heard tonight on the Channel 5 news that several Memphis City schools are also in the flood zone. And the headline on the WMC story is that the flood waters could stay around until June. Gawd. That would be awful.

MPD has put up a sign at the foot of the Auction Street Bridge: “Road Closed to Thru Traffic Turn Around (sic).” It did cut down on gawkers tonight, though I have to admit that if I didn’t live here, I’d be fascinated by the power and brute force of this river. Man, is it huge. And seeing a rushing current go past your feet as you stand on what was a driveway to a parking lot is a little surreal (the driveway I’m talking about is to the right of what you see in this photo). This is today’s view of what I’ve been posting since Monday — the parking lot on the south end of Harbor Town — though the money shot is really from the OTHER side, which shows how far the river will have to rise to cover the street. Andy thinks it won’t go that high, and he’s got NOAA on his side; they continue to predict a crest of 48 feet and the Island Drive looks to be 50 feet or higher. Still, we are ready to go if the time comes. We continue to think we won’t have water in our house, even at the crest of the flood.

For all of my local pals, thank you SO much for your offers of shelter and help; our great friends Mary and Dave have offered their East Memphis guest room to us, and they even look forward to Buddy coming to stay. So we are set if we have to go. But I so appreciate your calls and emails offering help. We are lucky to have you looking out for us. Our community is what makes this place so special.

My friend whose basement is the one we cleared out Monday night (here’s the latest photo of where the water is on her house), was telling me today that she knows another one of the Marina Cottage homeowners, someone else who is evacuating. Where’s he going? Just down the street to the River Inn, the hotel that’s here in Harbor Town, overlooking the circus that is Island Drive. He doesn’t want to leave, and it’s not just because he wants to be close to his flooded house. He doesn’t want to leave because it’s where he lives. It’s home.

I can totally relate.

Don’t let this peaceful sunset fool you: We are still in Floodland, and have become the biggest tourist destination in Memphis. Andy was in a traffic jam that backed him up halfway over the Auction St. bridge on the way home from work, and officers in at least three patrol cars were yelling at sightseers down here tonight. Lots of them have come to look, and some have come to fish — these river catfish, below, must be 20 pounds each, caught on a line stretching into what was Greenbelt Park. I hope Miss Cordelia’s, Tug’s, Paulette’s and the rooftop bar are doing great business, because it really is a beautiful night. Clear, cool, calm. Finally.

The river, of course, continues to rise, to near 44 feet, which is 10 feet above flood stage. How do I know this? I have become a river stage geek — this is the link we like the best for its detailed information. Pals in Memphis will note that this chart says the river will crest at 48 feet (same as last night, whew) on the morning of May 11, not May 10, as predictions have said.

I have calmed down some from last night, too. I believe all the reports that say a crest of 48 feet won’t flood our house, and may not even flood the access roads to the island, though I still think the water in the parking lot is pretty scary, and we are still preparing to leave if we have to. All it would take would be any standing water on Island Drive and it would be closed. Still, I think we’ll have more notice than I thought would be true last night, when I was gathering up my jewelry and trying to think about packing a bag to keep in my car. Might still do all that, but at least I’m not panicky about it any more.

Part of the reason I’m calmer is that I’ve been trying to focus on real reporting and sources, not the wild rumors floating around on Facebook or the totally lame reporting from some of the TV news stations. This morning I flipped on the news to see some TV reporter standing near the flooded parking lot (in my picture), exclaiming that he’d never seen the river so high! Then he stopped some slacker dude who speculated that the Army Corps of Engineers was probably lying about how high the river will get. What editor let that crap on the air? You call this journalism? Give me The Commercial Appeal and The New York Times; I even heard a snippet of a local story (a good part of Dyersburg is being evacuated) on NPR by WKNO’s own Eleanor Boudreau this afternoon. Real journalism. Scoff if you want, but I want real reporters supervised by real editors who know how to check out sources, debunk rumors and avoid stupid speculation. Ok, I’m done ranting now. At least for tonight.

If you click The CA link above, you’ll see that it’s a story posted tonight about possible Mud Island evacuations. Yes, we know; you’ll see that the water is creeping up the foundation of our friends’ house I wrote about last night. But the NYTimes link is even more heartbreaking — it’s about the people whose land is flooded because of the decision to blow the Birds Point levee up in Missouri. I thought all day about the 88-year-old man who’d lived in the spillway his whole life, above the grocery that he and his wife ran until everyone moved away and she died. He’s sleeping on the couch at his daughter’s house, wondering what to do next.

Sort of puts my anxiety about jewelry and furniture into perspective, you know?

Well, I thought I’d be writing tonight about all of the RAIN we’ve had today: buckets coming down pretty much all day, the kind of rain that gets you wet even with galoshes, a raincoat and umbrella. More than two inches, the weather guys say. And it’s still raining. I just heard a thunderclap.

But the real story tonight is, of course, the rising river. You can see from the photo above that the parking lot on the south end of Harbor Town is now flooded; the water was a foot down the grassy berm last night at around 6. (The cops who closed the parking lot were yelling at me as I took this photo. Do you think they thought I’d jump in the water? Maybe they were worried about Buddy, who’d love to take a little swim.)

In short, the river is coming up fast. And the crest predictions have been changed from a crest of 45 feet above flood stage to a crest of 48 feet above flood stage. This is NOT good news — the flood record is 48.7, but more than just “lowlying” areas begin to flood past 45 feet. Truly scary is the map I just found of streets that will likely flood in my neighborhood between now and Thursday. (You may recall the crest of the river isn’t supposed to happen until May 10. ONE WEEK from tomorrow.) No, our street isn’t flooded on this map, but look closely: Both access streets to get onto the island will soon be underwater. Which means we might have to evacuate.

Holy shit.

Part of the reason I’m a little freaked out tonight is that we are just back from helping our dear friends and neighbors move everything they have out of their basement, in preparation for the flood they think will surely come. As you can see from the photo below, water has already swamped their foundation, and it’s climbing up the walls, brick by brick. To see how quickly the water is rising, look at yesterday’s version of this same photo in the post below.

We moved everything from their kids’ baby bed to Christmas dishes to any number of toys, pots, vases and Crockpots — the kind of stuff you keep in your basement and don’t use very often. Except suddenly every Fiestaware plate seems precious, and a box of Todd’s grandmother’s castoff yarn and cookbooks treasures beyond price. Which they are, of course.

What would you take with you if you had to leave your home? Clothes, shoes, computers, obviously. (I am feverishly washing clothes tonight. Sure wish I’d done it last night when I should have.) But what else? What do you have to keep close, never let leave your sight? Just sitting at my desk, I see things I can’t imagine being without — the white clay Willie the Wildcat Tomas made for me in first grade. Albums of his baby pictures. A photo of Andy and me, impossibly young, embracing in the Tuileries Gardens in Paris not long after we were married.

I don’t even want to think about the Steinway in the living room, my dad’s pride and joy, now fully restored.

I know, I know, I need to get hold of myself. I really don’t think the house will flood, and being gone for a few days won’t be the end of the world. It might even be fun, depending on where we decide to go.

I just wish it would stop raining.

As you may have heard (it’s national news), here on the banks of the mighty Mississippi we are facing a flood of historic proportions. From the New York Times to The Commercial Appeal, this is shaping up to be one of the big stories of the year. This photo is Buddy on the banks of the Big Muddy; for more context, have a look at the slideshow I did of the photos I took on my walk this afternoon; I’ll post it on Facebook.

I know many of you are concerned about us. Some of my Facebook friends have been asking whether we are buying a canoe (no), and whether we are worried (yes). Let me be clear, though: We are not really worried about our house. We think it is above where the river might eventually go, though the numbers game is a little confusing, even for those of us following it closely. Last week, “officials” (who are they, really?) were saying that the river will go to 45 feet above flood stage at its highest level, which they say will be May 10. Then today’s story in The CA says that the river is predicted to rise to 44.1 feet by Thursday. Seems to me that we might eventually get higher than 45 feet, you know? And how do they know how high the river will get?

In the same story it tells what to do if you have to evacuate your house — don’t touch the breakers, turn off the gas. It’s all a little unnerving.

What I’m thinking about today, though, is the news that friends here in Harbor Town are preparing to take water in their houses, if only in the basement. Some of our best friends moved all of their stuff — futons, foosball table, elliptical trainer, Wii — upstairs this morning and caulked the door with silicone, and it’s a good thing, too, since the water is just a foot from their foundation (that’s the back corner of their house, above). When I talked to my pal this afternoon, she sounded tired and a little overwhelmed, ready to sit down for a minute to watch a movie with her kids. I have no idea what will happen to her amazing house if the water rises to where it’s expected to go (her husband is an architect, and the house has won a bunch of awards), but it can’t be good.

We are also following the story of the levee upstream in Missouri that the Army Corps of Engineers is thinking about blowing up to relieve flooding pressure on the town of Poplar Bluff, Missouri, and presumably the rest of us downstream. Today the question of whether to blow it up has gone all the way to the US Supreme Court. I find myself wishing they’d do it, though I know that at least 200 farm families will lose their way of life, likely for a while. What a terrible choice to have to make.

Speaking of levees, I haven’t heard or read much about the situation near Memphis — most of our levees are earthen ones in Arkansas — but the parking lot of the Pyramid is filled with people filling sandbags to close the gates of the floodwall that protects the Pyramid. I guess that’s what I fear most, that the low-lying streets downtown will flood and make it impossible for us to get off the island. Andy says I shouldn’t worry, and he is usually right. We’ll see, I guess.

My intention is to write about the flood daily, and post as many pictures as I can. I made a slideshow of photos from my walk around today, but can’t seem to make it post here. I’ll post it on my Facebook page, though, so you can see.

I’m not generally someone who prays in public like this, but I really am praying for peace for those whom the flood has displaced, and wisdom for those who are making the decisions that will keep the rest of us safe and dry. Peace to you, too, my friends.

Just back from a girls’ weekend at one of my favorite places: A pal’s cabin on the Spring River in Hardy, Arkansas. Winter is a quiet time in Hardy — no beer-swilling hoards — and it was warm enough to grill steaks, and cool enough for a fire every night. I had taken my laptop, but it turns out Mary gave up the wireless Internet, so I didn’t even look at email. Just sat on the sunporch, drank iced tea, talked to my friends, and watched the river go by. It’s amazing what you see when you sit still and just look: We saw a family of ducks trolling the river, looking for fish. And we saw a huge, majestic bald eagle, and were able to follow it’s flight to it’s nest, a huge affair of woven sticks, high in a tree across the river. Awesome.