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I watch the weather reports a bit closer now. Others laugh when they find out I have bottled water and canned food stacked in my pantry. I have flashlights and candles in a waterproof box high upon a shelf. I have very few real plants and a pet that requires very little water. Others laugh at me. I find little humor in the situation. Not after the great flood of 1993. The day was gray with air so heavy it was hard to breathe as I reported for duty. Sandbagging is a dirty job. I sandbagged for days and days and hours upon hours. Sandbagging brought out the most unlikely individuals to work together, side by side, through pouring rain and blistering heat toward one common goal. Fathers, Mothers, retirees, homemakers, and businessmen lined the streets. There is no crash course in sandbagging and there is no right or wrong way to fill a sandbag. Just fill it. Each of the 24,000 sandbags weighed forty pounds that were lined one point of Ashworth Road Stooping, filling and lifting all day was a great recipe for a ba