2633-4321 Anthropocenes – Human, Inhuman, Posthuman 2633-4321 University of Westminster Press 10.16997/ahip.1328 Practice “Downstream Effects” Fiala Rebecca J. rjfiala@uic.edu 1 Department of Medical Education, University of Illinois Chicago College of Medicine, USA 01 12 2022 2022 3 1 9 26 05 2022 14 09 2022 Copyright: © 2022 The Author(s) 2022 This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC-BY 4.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited. See http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/.

This poem describes a riverine flood that occurred on Salt Creek (the Little Des Plaines River), Brookfield, Cook County, Illinois (4th congressional district), US, as part of extensive regional flooding in the Chicago area on April 18–19, 2013. Both case report and epic, this hyperlocal work is a post-postmodern (metamodern) baroque exploration of human systems and sense-making as revealed through natural disaster. An update is provided in the author note. Three illustrations accompany this poem.

 alienation Chicagoland climate change environmental justice flooding gerrymandering housing land use natural disaster poetry river suburb Downstream Effects Look          around.                             We’re                     all                                   on a need-         to-             know basis                     Whenever I think of it, I swing by.                          Who knows             what                                                                   she’ll say                                                 or do.      Today, the creek is meek,                 easily cros-                                                 sed in a bound;                     the next, roiling; then, skit-                                                                                      tering                                   or teeming;                           still placid,                                                 a nar-                                                                   row, svelte s,                     dashed on canvas                                    to sug-                                                gest calmness, quietude, a peaceful life Languid,                latent in late sum-                                                                   mer, we’re both                     slow movers Barely a buggy drainage ditch,                     but neon green bal-                                                                   lroom dream for water                     striders;          drinking                     hole      for cautious four-             leg-                                                                                      gers who leave                                    canopy and cover                               to meet her;                     BMX and singletrack style points;                                  a site                                    for secret plans,                                 strategies;                                                a tranquil set-                                                                   ting for long-      delayed talks,                                    laughter,                                                                     touch, kiss, embrace;                  variety for sidestep-                                                                                      ping hikers—                                    a chance             to stabilize,                     picking through,            with walking sticks—                     ensuring the bit-                                                ter smell of sunbaked algae will not cling mosquito-              bite tight                  and fol-                                                                                                       low. Overhead, a dragonfly lopes                              then scoots. Photographers                     drop in,           take what they need, slice back through the woods,               arrow- eyed,                                    looking for bonus, might-             as- well shots,                         snatching them up                     like lost coins. You never know                                                                                      how things                                                                   will turn out   Sud-                     denly, she pitches in,        retel-                                                                                      ling the old stories                     So excited,                        so relieved,                                    amid so much change, to share                                                  her long days                                                                   of youth,                freedom,                     unobserved by guidelines,          expectations,            plans, protocols,              deployments,   deadlines—          before finance, mapmakers,         surveyors,          builders,                     investors came               and went through this afterthought town,                                    perpetually up-                and-       coming                     latecomer,                        after perspective was lost,                                    before experience could be pas-                                                                                                      sed along                                                                                     or gained, quickly funded,               expediently developed in response                                                                                     to demand spikes,                                                last trainline tract                 built quickly                                    among its neighbors,                     an enclave, an outpost, a fringe                                    of renters, starters, and others living where we can—                    discon-                                                                                    nected from/ recon-                     nected to        the city in new ways,        by ger-                                    rymander—     in a val-                                                                                    ley, cool, sheltered bot-                                                tomland, trap-                                                                                    ping ter-                                                                                                      ritory, subdivided into pel-                                                letized property, PEZ plots,                     songbird-      abundant                pass-       through land,                     carefully skirted                                                in native set-                                                                                     tlement maps                                    [this poem was composed on land                     native tribes, including the Chippewa, Ottawa,                     and Potawatomi, held in safekeeping until 1816], bound by the earlier,     wiser,    wealthier,                higher. Old                     Mother gets big-                                                ger, looming                     from within a hud-                                                dled, captive audience Laying paral-                                    lel all night,                           I leave                                                                     before sunrise, locking the door behind me.                                              Yet, I arrive                                                to find myself                    trailing behind,                                    having once again misgues-                                                                                                      sed her moods,                                    capabilities, having mis-                                                                                                      sed                    points of change,                                cause-                    effect,                                    wishing to please                              the unpleasable                                    This is not the first time I have thought                 I was safe                                                                     when I was not                                    I have thought                                   I was unsafe when I was safe.             I do not know. I                    can-                                    not tell.                 Although the staff gauge                                    is regularly repainted,                    we long ago                    abandoned documenting or began covering                                                                     waterline dates— though with so many                         recent 100-        year storms                                    we’d have to mark streets and sidewalks                 blocks away now,                  the creek                    having so far overtaken,                               outdistanced                                    the bridge meant to span and track it                    Perhaps we all do             have something to forget                                                                                                      or hide Inside, we wait,                     reenacting normal,                    monitoring private                                                                     then shared        sentinel sites,                                    low-         lying areas        where water gathers                    like a tale coming back to the tel-                                                      ler                                        through the retel-                                                                             ling, memory                     being           the original trickster Each reflective surface                           presages another                                                        At night, we can-                                                                                           not see the broody pud-                                     dles expand,           the network advance We guess,               each with our own                     mental gauges, fil-                                                        ling in accord with the too-           near tap of rainfall, which sounds dif-                                                                                           ferent, calibrated                     individually          within each home. No glint,                     no glim-                                     mer,        no shine in the shadows,                     though the level rises                          steadily, in unison,                                     concealing earth’s variability                                                        with new                                     uncertain                     depths                                                          Morning reveals glossy, uniform surfaces                        in one palette                     where before        were limitless                         textures, shapes,                    colors of our personal interactions                                                        with habit, space Until now,              with the water                                                        in motion,                                we couldn’t see                     how the earth                        was worn, shaped                                     by her hands                                                                         Old Mother’s desire paths grow,                                     leaving her mark:                     a fur-                                     row between yards,                                                        an imprint snaking                                                                         beneath fence lines,                                                                                           slip-                                                                                           ping into garages and under siding, waterfal-                                                        ling over                                                              poured slabs—                                                                                               tracing                                        the old route.          Freshly, the earth feels                           her hands                      working the clay, compres-                                                              sing corners,                      crafting edges, pounding, pres-                                                                              sing deeper all the sweet spots,                      confidently heeling in          further than before,                                        swol-                                                      len, sod-                                                              den, as clear run-            off                      is replaced by a new opacity                                                                After a time,                      the creek may well catch a toe                              at the bend of the bridge,     spraying,                      spil-                                        ling, washing over           mushrooms, soft and sturdy,                              a fairy ring, that flexes,                                        sways in a pres-                                                              sure-              burst-      release cascade of sun-                    sparkle and foam                      Sometime later, she                        may hook a knee, looping                                    to a resting squat,                                        full of energy,                  before standing                                                                                                     at full height                      in the steady swing that announces:                                        The      Show      Has        Begun   Small fish greedily fol-                                                      low Old Mother’s                angled,                      swirling trails. Occasionally,                                        panfish are stranded,                            orphaned and pocketed,                               trying to make sense                      of a partial story                  from a loving, but forgetful, parent,        gasping,                              gaping,                      their mouths                              tangled in another les-                                                                                                                          son                         Unsure who       is more out of place, we eye one other                                      on the perpendicular                         Out of bounds. The water is                                out                                      of              bounds.                      The creek              jumps the bank.                  Those closest begin moving things                         (Just in case)     to higher shelves,                    rol-                                                                                                                 ling rugs, carefully set-                         ting valuables                      on the steps up, warning                                      others to be careful,                laughing, reas-                                                                                                                           suring themselves against paranoia,                                 trying not to alarm                                      those who are not alarmed,                         considering whether more should be done,                                      not wanting panic to invite destruction,                         left alone                                      with self-                  recrimination                                                        and the renewed resolutions                                      of someone who knows bet-                                      ter—      having eliminated                    then allowed                         wood,                 textiles,                  paper,         electronics                                      in this place that is             ours but not ours, or                                                        ours but only                             temporarily, or                         ours on loan, during dry weeks only                                        We do what we can, put-                                                                                                      ting roots down                         to stretch out wherever pos-                                                                                                                 sible for this short life, dig-                                      ging in,                                                holding on with money                                  from tomor-                                                                                                      row’s pockets [as determined by underwriters]. Abruptly, we attune                         to the sadness                                      of those who slept here before,                                    tied by a com-                                                                                               mon clinging                         to should-               be, masked by fear                                                              of losing what’s not yet taken.                       Who’ll be next?                           Who           is                         downstream?                            Do they                   know?                                    It is enough                                                              to make a strong man lie Old                Mother                       loves to talk about Noah                         (An elaboration                       obviously more true                                    because it’s so much bet-                                                                                               ter her way:                         Water                        sets the world spin-                                                                                                                  ning!)                                    though Noah’s story was not                         about delight but hor-                                                                                 ror,      obliteration A bub-                         ble then a drip. Sud-                                                                                 denly,                    a faint,                         unfamiliar stream and only slowly                            a quiet lap-                                                                                 ping    that could be                         a small animal grooming                  or drinking, unquestioningly comforted by neces-                                                                                 sity’s routines                         of self-                    care   There is often a lull                    before upstream water col-                         lides, gathers,                          mer-                                                                                               rily rushing                                                                                 forward                 like progress or How-                  you-             been old friends,                    reunited                         by chance,                                  pushing away Plan A, going in together, joining up tables,                         palming and pul-                                                           ling vacant two-                      tops,                                    asking/                             not asking                                                            for all the coat                        and purse chairs. Everyone makes way, moving aside or leaving,                     maybe grudgingly, maybe                                    with more options or bet-                                                                                          ter plans anyway                        Some can                or must              adapt,                                    match and embrace the spirit,                        staying on                                                                                The rain slows or even stops.                               The sun peeks in.              The dog                        always needs walking.                     One man goes out for his Bet-                                    ter-                be-         double-                bag-                                                                                                                           ged newspaper. Another opens a beer.                                 A young couple wanders                        their now clean deck barefoot, wine glas-                                                                                                              ses in hand, deciding whether/                     when      to open a fresh bot-                                                                                                                           tle An older couple                                             sends the kids to the store. Others roam                                      to expand                                                            the information radius                                    by foot                           and by pad-                                                                                                              dle or oar                        Tilted and tucked away                    for just this day,                                    leaf-              covered watercraft whisk out,                                      push off,                                and glide                        from                          all                          directions This is before                                explosive violence,                        external concus-                                                            sion         and a disar-                                                                                                              ray that descends stairs                   before ascending them,                        switching back,                     like a rid-                                                                                            dle,           a prank,                          a practical joke, while also                                        locating new internal stairwells to climb—                   strad-                                                                               dling both, a mir-                          ror-     image dance,                            a race to the top                          at matched pace,                  a sloshy visual echo   A mute effortles-                                        sness cuts off the household’s rut-                                                              ted traf-                                                                               fic pat-                                                                                                terns,     severing                          daily bookend routes. An insubstantial substantiality                            fills the space, speaking quickly,                          clearly to the body,                                        in no uncertain terms, with stop- ping force:                          Get out.                  You don’t belong here                                        Old Mother has the floor Doors blow off hinges,                                sending knob and lockset to the opposite wall,                  revealing the futility                          of locks and doors. The water                                        relocates to separate                                                                               rooms the washer and dryer;                  the legs on the wash                          basin splay in the heave and tus-                                                                                 sle                                        Once inside, Old Mother does not restrain curiosity—                             and sometimes                          just likes                                        to stir the pot.         Precisely, gently,                          she will turn                         objects stored in corners                  by 90 degrees, swal-                                                                                                lowing one shoe whole                              but toy-                boating another                          Guiding from beneath a box                                         through a wob-                                                                               ble to a slow bob,                           as if reading contents before consumption or instructions                              before use,                                                             she mindles-                                                                                               sly replaces it on the same shelf,                                         perhaps in favor                           of a healthier       or faster option. Nah,                                                                                                            she says                                         Don’t need that The rain returns.                          The pause returns, mixing                           thoughts,              feelings                 with no bearing                                         on a changing situation                   or outcomes Rising floodwater is quiet,                                        except                           during a change of direction                           or an expansion,                                 when it reclaims a former position                                           after a long time away                                                             In a house,           it’s like                                         water folding            and unfolding,                shaking                           it off, shaking it out,                          just starting over and refolding for a trim-                                         mer fit in a reorganized area. It curls It crimps. Then,                            it sounds like applause, starting slow                           and ending slowly while a frog and cricket sing   After the river                               has receded,                           after the stream recedes,                                         amid the skid-                                                                               ding, stained withdrawal of slow, spore-                             saturated silt,                           along the sludgy, belched-             up                                                                                               banks appear things the creek has taken and combined                        with things tos-                                                                                                                             sed in                                         on another day                        or decade,                           items discarded guiltily,                                    accidentally lost,                           perhaps taken by surprise                                        in spring sunshine—             in addition                           to objects that must                                        have required an accomplice,          surely                                                             a two-      person job                                                                                Although, if pres-                                                                                                                               sed, Old Mother, who denies nothing                                        and makes no promises,                    may just                           find her                                        way around to admit-                                                                                ting, nearly brag-                                                                                                                               ging,                           that she did it all                  herself! She sure could               use      a nice bench,                            a six- pack,                           a flowerpot—                         and why not   take up                                        smoking again                        at this point?                           What are                you            gonna do about it? Go on.                           Although she may break you          if she can,                           can’t help              but love her,                                        but don’t expect her to thank you for it Illustrations

April 19, 2013: Two green sunfish (Lepomis cyanellus) were found in the author’s basement. Initially thought to be dead, they were safely and swiftly returned to the creek.

March 15, 2016: Brookfield (IL, US) Canoe Launch, Salt Creek Water Trails.

Scharf, A. F. (1900). Indian Trails and Villages of Chicago and of Cook, DuPage and Will Counties, Ills. (1804): As Shown by Weapons and Implements of the Stone Age. https://news.wttw.com/sites/default/files/article/file-attachments/The Scharf Map.pdf. Retrieved August 30, 2022.

 Author Notes

The Native American, Anishinaabeg (Nishnaabe, Neshnabé) tribes listed—the Council of Three Fires, representing the Ojibweg (Chippewa), Odawak (Odawa), and Bodéwadmik (Potawatomi)—and the date shown are from Kircher, M. G., ed. Brookfield, Illinois: A History,1 in reference to the Treaty of St Louis (1816), 1 of 14 such treaties signed in the St Louis, Missouri, area.

The riverine flood described occurred on Salt Creek (the Little Des Plaines River), Brookfield, Cook County, IL (4th congressional district), US, as part of extensive regional flooding in the Chicago area on April 18–19, 2013, only a few years after the global financial crisis. Many local households that barely survived the manmade financial systems disaster were ruined by this natural disaster.2

Perhaps surprisingly, the hero of the story in this case was business interests. The insurance companies that carry Federal Emergency Management Agency flood protection policies sued the municipality (along with many others) for illegally storing water in people’s homes.3 Although the lawsuit was dropped,4 the willingness to act appeared to result in changes to federal flood mapping and improvements to the village’s mitigation efforts,5 despite inconsistent local cooperation in collaborative data-sharing and planning processes.6

Independent of community engagement and, relatedly, accurate property transfer disclosure data,7 eventually the land tells us about itself. This poem addresses a personal reckoning of this kind—along with the concept and challenges of ownership amid ongoing displacements8 that result from neglectful relationships toward nature and each other within larger, interconnected sets of often non-supportive human systems.

I believe this work will be of interest to others processing a flood experience, of which there are a great many within the United States9 and, sadly, elsewhere.10 It helps people to have our problems, experiences, and observations described when we are left wordless by climate trauma; we feel heard, understood, and better able to reclaim agency,11 regardless of whether we feel or ultimately take the opportunity to join one another to ‘rework ourselves’ within a fuller understanding of place and human community.12

Brookfield, IL: Brookfield History Book Committee, 1994.

Uphues, B. (2013). One for the record books. Riverside-Brookfield Landmark. April 23, 2013. Available at: https://www.rblandmark.com/2013/04/23/one-for-the-record-books. Retrieved August 30, 2022; Uphues, B. (2013). Brookfield offers help for flood control. Riverside-Brookfield Landmark. June 11, 2013. Available at: https://www.rblandmark.com/2013/06/11/brookfield-offers-help-for-flood-control. Retrieved September 12, 2022; Uphues, B. (2014). Brookfield’s new building boom. Riverside-Brookfield Landmark. January 28, 2014. Available at: https://www.rblandmark.com/2014/01/28/brookfields-new-building-boom. Retrieved August 30, 2022.

Ziezulewicz, G. (2014). Insurance co. sues Will County, 12 towns over flood damage. Chicago Tribune. April 29, 2014. Available at: https://www.chicagotribune.com/suburbs/ct-xpm-2014-04-29-ct-flooding-lawsuit-bolingbrook-plainfield-tl-0501-20140429-story.html. Retrieved August 31, 2022; Uphues, B. (2014). Insurance firm wants to recoup flood payouts. Riverside-Brookfield Landmark. April 29, 2014. Available at: https://www.rblandmark.com/2014/04/29/insurance-firm-wants-to-recoup-flood-payouts. Retrieved August 31, 2022.

Sabin Center for Climate Change Law at Columbia Law School. (2014). Illinois Farmers Insurance Co. v. Metropolitan Water Reclamation District of Greater Chicago. U.S. Climate Change Litigation database. Available at: http://climatecasechart.com/case/illinois-farmers-insurance-co-v-metropolitan-water-reclamation-district-of-greater-chicago. Retrieved August 30, 2022.

Uphues, B. (201). Brookfield pump station a go for 2016. Riverside-Brookfield Landmark. February 2, 2016. Available at: https://www.rblandmark.com/2016/02/02/brookfield-pump-station-a-go-for-2016. Retrieved August 30, 2022; Uphues, B. (2021). Streets, basements flood after June 26 deluge. Riverside-Brookfield Landmark. June 29, 2021. https://www.rblandmark.com/2021/06/29/streets-basements-flood-after-june-26-deluge. Retrieved September 12, 2022; Uphues, B. (2022). Brookfield to restart cost share for home flood-control systems. Riverside-Brookfield Landmark. March 22, 2022. Available at: https://www.rblandmark.com/2022/03/22/brookfield-to-restart-cost-share-for-home-flood-control-systems. Retrieved August 30, 2022.

Federal Emergency Management Agency. (2014). 3.3.19 Brookfield, Village of Summary (CID 170066). In Flood Risk Report Des Plaines River Watershed, 07120004 (pp. 88–90). Available at: https://map1.msc.fema.gov/data/FRP/FRR_07120004_20150115.pdf?LOC=3219173ee3df4b922844accfe8904d3d. Retrieved August 30, 2022; Chicago Metropolitan Agency for Planning. (2018). Lower Salt Creek Watershed-based Plan. Available at: https://www2.illinois.gov/epa/topics/water-quality/watershed-management/watershed-based-planning/Documents/LowerSaltCrk_WatshdPlan_Dec2018_FINAL.pdf. Retrieved September 12, 2022; Cook County Department of Emergency Management and Regional Security. (2019). Cook County Multijurisdictional Hazard Mitigation Plan. Vol 2: Municipal Annexes: Brookfield Annex. Available at: https://cookcountyemergencymanagement.org/sites/default/files/images/Brookfield%20Annex%202019.pdf. Retrieved September 12, 2022.

Hersher, R. (2020). Living in harm’s way: why most flood risk is not disclosed. All Things Considered; National Public Radio. October 20, 2020. Available at: https://www.npr.org/2020/10/20/921132721/living-in-harms-way-why-most-flood-risk-is-not-disclosed. Retrieved September 13, 2022; Frank, T. (2021). Home sales need better disclosure of flood risk, experts say. Scientific American. February 2, 2021. Available at: https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/home-sales-need-better-disclosure-of-flood-risk-experts-say. Retrieved September 13, 2022; Natural Resources Defense Council. (2022). How states stack up on flood disclosure. Available at: https://www.nrdc.org/flood-disclosure-map. Retrieved September 13, 2022; Federal Emergency Management Agency. (2022). Flood Risk Disclosure: Model State Requirements for Disclosing Flood Risk during Real Estate Transactions. Available at: https://www.fema.gov/sites/default/files/documents/fema_state-flood-risk-disclosure-best-practices_07142022.pdf. Retrieved September 13, 2022.

See note 2.

U.S. Geological Survey. (2022). Water resources of the United States: project alert postings. Available at: https://water.usgs.gov/alerts/index.html. Retrieved August 30, 2022.

FloodList. Floods and flooding. Oderbruch, Germany, European Union. Available at: https://floodlist.com. Retrieved August 30, 2022.

Illingworth, S. (2020). ‘This Bookmark Gauges the Depths of the Human’: How Poetry Can Help to Personalise Climate Change. Geoscience Communication, 3: 35–47. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5194/gc-3-35-2020. Retrieved August 30, 2022; Bentz, J. (2020). Learning about Climate Change in, with and through Art. Climatic Change, 162: 1595–1612. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1007/s10584-020-02804-4. Retrieved August 30, 2022; Carroll, R. (2005). Finding the Words to Say It: The Healing Power of Poetry. Evidence-Based Complementary and Alternative Medicine, 2(2): 161–172. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1093/ecam/neh096. Retrieved September 1, 2022; Sima, R. (n.d.). More than words: why poetry is good for our health. International Arts + Mind Lab. Available at: https://www.artsandmindlab.org/more-than-words-why-poetry-is-good-for-our-health. Retrieved September 1, 2022; Srivastava, M. (2021). Can poetry heal collective trauma? Thesacredwell (blog). August 25, 2021. Available at: https://sacredwell.in/2021/08/25/can-poetry-heal-collective-trauma. Retrieved September 1, 2022; Ataga, J., & McNiece, Z. (n.d.). Poetic meaning-making: a new path to trauma work. NBCC Visions. Available at: https://www.nbcc.org/resources/nccs/newsletter/poetic-meaning-making. Retrieved September 1, 2022; Sax, A. (2019). Understanding trauma: the healing process of poetry. Kingsley & Kate Tufts Poetry (blog). March 5, 2019. Available at: https://arts.cgu.edu/tufts-poetry-awards/understanding-trauma-the-healing-process-of-poetry. Retrieved September 1, 2022.

Plumwood, V. (2007). A review of Deborah Bird Rose’s ‘Reports from a Wild Country: Ethics for Decolonisation.’ Australian Humanities Review. http://australianhumanitiesreview.org/2007/08/01/a-review-of-deborah-bird-roses-reports-from-a-wild-country-ethics-for-decolonisation. Retrieved August 30, 2022.

 Competing Interests

The author has no competing interests to declare.