RED STAR RESIDENT RETAINS SENSE OF WELL-BEING IN AFTERMATH OF '95 FLOOD

Jimmie Fischer is reminded of mental anguish and sorrow when he talks about this year's flood.

And yet the 58-year-old resident of the Red Star District feels lucky to retain the home that contains pictures, antiques, a priceless doll collection and mementos that remind him of his German heritage.

"We've had engagement parties, weddings, funerals and deaths in this home," Fischer said as his eyes began to show moisture. "I've lived here since I was just three years old. I'll stay as long as I can."

When water from the Mississippi River lapped at his door in May, Fischer experienced a deluge of poignant memories he thought would not return for a long time.

"This year's flood reminded me of what happened in 1993," Fischer said. "My mother died during the flood of 1993 and I ended up having a nervous breakdown."

The nervous breakdown was triggered when his mother failed to recognize the son who took care of her up to her final hour. Having dedicated much of his life to attending to the needs of his parents, he suddenly felt like all the time and effort spent on their last years was not even appreciated.

"My mother recognized her granddaughter but didn't even know who I was," he said, running his hands through a thick shock of curly gray hair. She referred to him as "that fat guy with curly hair."

He can take swift solace, however, in the fact that his mother's mind had deteriorated to the point of no return. "She started talking about how I took her house away from her when I put her in a nursing home," he said. "With her mind gone like that, it really wasn't her talking anymore. It was just someone trying to fight to stay alive."

His father, Raymond, died of a heart attack in the family's home several years before his mother succumbed in the nursing home. "I heard this sound, like air going out of a tire, and that was it," he said, referring to his father's fatal heart attack. "He fought his heart condition as long as he could."

It is that Fischer fight to keep what was handed down from one generation to the next that enables Jimmie to overcome past hardships. "You've got to go on," he said. "You can't worry about what might happen next year or the year after that. You have to just deal with what comes your way the best you can."

Friends, ministers and the Community Caring Council have provided strength and support for Fischer, who lives alone with his dog Fred. However, his strongest defense mechanism proved to be his sense of humor. When a pipe burst, he burst out laughing. It kept him sane during the second flood in three years.

The 1993 flood put water as high as his kitchen sink. The stench "was the awfulest" he'd ever smelled. But something happened to give him his sense of balance. "I used the toilet and when I flushed, the water shot straight up in the air," he said with a wide grin.

"It was so ridiculous I just laughed as hard as I could." Then he went about the task of replacing his carpet and wallpaper to get back to normal.

"I got some money from FEMA, but to tell you the truth the most help came from family, friends and the Red Star Baptist Church," he said. "Denny Marr (Red Star Baptist youth minister) made sure I had enough food and the support I need to get on with my life. He did the same thing this year."

Fischer packed up his furniture and belongings when he realized the water was high enough to evacuate. "In 1993 I stayed with my aunt for five months," he said. "That was hard because it put a strain on everybody."

This year, however, he was able to secure housing at the Townhouse Motel and later at the Red Cross shelter. "I stayed at the shelter at Cape Central for about a week and a half," he said. "But I was always worried about somebody stealing my wallet." So he slept with his wallet in his back pocket.

"They treated me good and gave me real good meals at the shelter, but there is no privacy and you're basically just trying to hold out as long as you can until you can return home."

Home is just a few miles away from where he ran a beauty parlor on 208 Independence. He ran the beauty shop for 20 years before retiring a few years ago.

Now he putters around in his backyard garden, watches old musicals and soap operas and attends to the needs of his companion Fred. "Fred here is so spoiled," Fischer said as he ran his fingers through the dog's thick coat.

He also admires the antique doll collection his mother amassed over the years. "My grandmother started the collection and handed it down to my mother, Ellen," he said. His favorite stuffed doll is a faceless configuration in a plaid dress. "I never wanted to draw in the face because my grandmother never meant for that to be."

The freedom to look at family pictures and traverse the home that contains so many memories gives him a sense of well-being even when tragic memories creep to the surface.

"My brother Billy died when he was three and one-half years old of a heart disease," he said. "They brought his casket into this house and we held the funeral here. Some days I look at the living room and still see the casket, but then I look at a picture of one of my brother's engagement party here and the bad goes away."

Asked if he believes there will be any chance of securing a buyout from FEMA, Fischer shakes his head. "They're not going to buy us out because we didn't have it that bad this year," he said.

He would probably be against a buyout anyway. "There are things I'd probably have to leave behind if I moved into a new home and I don't really want to do that," he said. "If I can't take everything, I would rather just take my chances on staying put. I did everything I could for my parents here. I can't say that about any other place."