OFFICE VIEW OF RIVER IS CLOSE ENOUGH FOR ILLINOISAN

When Steve Gerard looks out the picture window of his second-floor Main Street office, he sees both a wondrous once-in-a-lifetime spectacle and a primal force that could drive his family permanently from their home.

"If my home wasn't threatened and other people's livelihoods weren't being threatened, it's quite a sight to see," he said.

Gerard's office at 112A N. Main St. affords him a view of the rebellious Mississippi that most of us are denied by the floodwall.

Outside his window at 8:30 Tuesday morning, the Blankenship, a U.S. Coast Guard vessel, was measuring the river's flow, which must surpass anything in recorded history.

Somewhere over on the Illinois side, a couple miles beyond the treeline, sits the geodesic dome Gerard and his wife Jan built back in 1977 on 10 acres of farmland he grew up on. The Gerards knew they were building in a flood plain, and saw the devastation caused by the record-breaking 1973 flood. "But 1973 was only supposed to be every 100 years," he said.

They abandoned the house about 10 days ago, worried that the levee that has been restraining the river since February might finally yield.

"We're concerned about the integrity of the levee," Gerard said. "Anything could happen as saturated as it is."

He thinks the same thing could happen in East Cape Girardeau that occurred recently in Miller City, where a levee gave way and water flooded the town.

"We've never seen one like this," Gerard said. "It's a little bit frightening."

Others in the area have been slower to leave. "They have removed their valuables but are still in their houses," Gerard said. "They're ready to go.

"And some people haven't done a thing."

Unable to get flood insurance because they live one-fourth mile outside an incorporated area, the Gerards built their basement only two feet into the ground. The main floor is elevated to six feet.

"If the levee were to break it would totally flood the basement and main floor," he said.

With a lot of help from their friends, they've moved all their belongings out of the house because they're also concerned about looting. "I've got stuff scattered all over Cape Girardeau," he said.

Then they pitched in to move his parents out of their house in McClure, and helped his nephew move equipment from the old family farm up into the hills.

They've also been helping to sandbag a weak point in the Illinois-side levee, which Gerard says "looks pretty good."

The extra work and the upheaval can't really be taken in stride.

"We're losing a lot of sleep," Gerard said. "Physically we're exhausted."

There is the added anxiety over the prospect of losing their home. "You try not to worry about something you've got no control over," he said. "But you still worry."

The children "are reacting quite well," he said. "There's a lot more for them to do in Cape."

The family, which includes children Nicole, 12, and Tate, 10, has moved into the apartment next door to his office. A friend, Dionne Chaudoir-Hoffmeister, is letting them use the place until they can return to their home. Whenever that may be.

Their great Dane, Isis, is staying with friends of the family.

A registered stockbroker and insurance agent who operates his own business, Gerard has devoted many days of the past two weeks to moving. Jan, who works for the state Department of Mental Health, also has missed work.

"We have pretty much done everything we can do over there," Gerard said.

Now they can only wait as long as it takes to find out whether the levee will hold.

From Gerard's office, the nearness of the river to the top of the wall is eerie, and the strain of rushing water against reinforced concrete almost palpable.

He sees whole trees being tossed down the river. But what seems strangest to Gerard is the absence of the usual the boats and barges on the river. "Other than the Blankenship, I haven't seen any traffic for weeks," he said. "That's odd."

He faults attempts to control the Mississippi for this mother of all floods. "I think they've channelized the river so much it has nowhere else to go but up."

Trying to marshal the river through locks and dams, levees and floodwalls has helped barge traffic and has protected property but also has cost many others who live beside the river, he said. "The combination of all that is coming back to haunt us."

During the early part of his lifetime, floods never were a concern on his family's farm. There have been four or five in the 15 years since the Gerards built their house on the same land.

"Now it's almost becoming uninhabitable," he said.

Since moving there, the family has planted thousands of cypress, oak and ash trees over three of the acres in an attempt to return it to its original wild state. Wildlife has been moving back in.

Now, Gerard questions whether his own family can rejoin them.

"We built the residence where I was raised within 100 yards of the old house," he said. "But I don't know if I can stay there."