In Lincoln Park, an eerie network of driveways leads to empty lots where houses once stood. Wistful former residents take nostalgic drives through the old neighborhood and occasionally wash their car in what was once their driveway. There is a lingering fear that the city could flood again. Despite moving residential areas away from the river and building a higher dike line further back from the shore, the city is still vulnerable to catastrophe, albeit one that is statistically unlikely. And yet, in 1998, barely a year after the great flood, Grand Forks dodged a bullet when the river rose to 45 feet, just nine feet shy of its 1997 record.
People become tense, short-tempered and stressed.
The Kiplinger Washington Editors, Inc.