This piece was written to remember a massive flood that occurred at the Red River of the North, which creates the border between Minnesota and North Dakota; and to celebrate the success of the communities that emerged victorious against the raging Red.
In the first few weeks of March 2009, a terrible snowstorm swept through the Red River Valley, closing schools and businesses for several days. The winter had been particularly cold and wet. After the spring holiday, the area got another emerging disaster in the form of a rapidly rising river. The river rises every year, but it had been over a decade since it had risen to such a dangerous level. That time, in 1997, the river had risen to 39 feet. This time it was projected to reach a crest of 41–43 feet.
Through the end of March and
into April, the cities of Fargo, Moorhead, and the surrounding areas worked
endlessly to create sandbag dikes to save their properties. State congressmen
were notified, and the National Guard came to help flood victims evacuate their
homes. The communities received national coverage because of the tremendous
efforts employed to hold back the Red River.
In the end, the river crested at
40.82 feet, the biggest local flood in living memory. Over three million
sandbags were packed into dikes, and the cities, on the whole, were saved.
Before this incident, everyone compared each local disaster to the Flood of
’97. Now, the citizens of the Red River Valley will remember, for the rest of
their lives, the Flood of ’09. Here is an explanation of each section of the
composition:
Measures 40–57: Anxious
and Troubled—Suddenly the first violins introduce an F sharp, making the scene
minor. The community—represented by the other strings—begins to worry about the
troubled waters. The rhythmic section on measures 46–57 shouldn’t be so loud
that it covers up the first violins, who continue to play the part of the
river, dividing into two patterns that clash unsettlingly.
Measures 58–93: The
Sandbag Line—The people have assembled to make sandbags and take them to the
river to build dikes. The process is slow and hard, as each person heaves one
heavy sandbag after another to the next person in the line. At times, someone
might slip or drop a bag, temporarily halting the steady rhythm of the work,
but everyone continues to work as the river continues to rise.
The
strings pass along a minor-key version of the “community theme” as the first
violins rage on. Everyone plays faster and louder as the anxiety and required
work level increases. The second violins later contribute to the river motif,
and then the violas, as the water level rises. The cellos and basses work
harder and harder as the river rises closer and closer to their level.
Eventually, everyone is frantic, but determined. Then, everything suddenly
stops…
Measures 144–165: The River Returns To Its Calm Disposition—The first violins once again enter with the pattern of triplets, but their pace does not increase when the other strings come in, as it did last time. Everything is back to normal, and the first violins continue on and fade away with the rest if the instruments.
Of the pieces I’ve written, I take great pride in this one. I felt inspiration from the empowering event I had witnessed during the Flood of ’09 in Fargo, ND, and Moorhead, MN. I spent much of my spare time working on this composition during the summer after I graduated from high school. I hoped the Fargo-Moorhead Symphony would take a look at it and perform it, since the piece is about the community it represents and in which I grew up. I sent an email to someone from the symphony but nothing has come of it. I would very much like to hear a full string orchestra play this piece someday. But in any case, it felt great to adequately interpret, at least for me, a significant event in my young life.
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