It's been just more than a year since the Cedar River rose to the 500-year flood stage and devastated the town of Cedar Rapids, IA. Those who were able to catch the story on the evening news noted a striking familiarity to the scenes we saw after levees along the Mississippi broke and flooded southern Louisiana. Except in Iowa it wasn't covered 24/7. And Louisiana was never forgotten.
I was in Cedar Rapids for the second time this year, this time to photograph Zins Restaurant owners Amy Wyss and Lee Belfield. They, their investors and generous Iowans helped them overcome the odds. With private funds they relaunched their unique upscale tapas restuarant in this working class city with its iconic Quaker Oats factory smack dab in the middle of town burning out the smells maple and brown sugary goodness all night long.
Here more than a year later, residents recite the first edition of local lore. Like the night the hospital needed evacuating and so many hundreds of volunteers showed up in the wee hours of the morning that many more had to be turned away. And their eyes well up telling it. I too get goosebumps listening to others describe the level of support in similar numbers the town poured out to sandbag a water well in danger, to save untold millions in lost business not to mention an astronomical health threat.
What community has ever come together and raise thousands of dollars for a restaurant, a private enterprise, like this one did? I've never heard. And despite still many boarded up homes and businesses and an uncanny quietness about some suburbs, there's talk that's positive, and there's hope that is more than just talk. It's alive.
As I chatted with Amy while enjoying the best Cuban flan I've ever had, I watched Lee walk around the room on what was just any old Thursday night greeting regular guests by their first name and thanking them for their patronage. Just then he showed me it was about good food but it was also about community. That this is not just a place where people came together to dine fantastic, upscale food in a predominantly middle class town, but a place to celebrate their community, and friends and neighbors. Their home. A community that wasn't bitter about lack of federal aid, or forgotten promises. But a community that looked inward to solve its its own problems with a greatness that befits the hearts of its residents.
One thing is consistent, they all speak in hushed tones when honoring those who suffered incredible loss while at the same time acknowledging the amazing fortunes of a community drawn into cohesion from the receding waters of the Cedar River.
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