Frank Kilgore lost six days of pay this past winter. Snowbanks prevented him from getting to work.

That's a way of life in Richards West, a subdivision west of Interstate 29 best reached by traveling west on University Avenue. While the winter was dreadful for everyone, perhaps no place in Grand Forks had it worse than this disconnected neighborhood of about 200 homes.

"We really get blasted out here," said Kilgore, who lives at 4855 Fifth Ave. N. "We're like an open end, and the snow just dumps into us. After a snowstorm, you can't go anywhere unless you have four-wheel drive."

Since it's on the city's fringes, the neighborhood also is among the last to see snowplows.

High and dry

But, from hell in the winter, Richards West became the paradise of Greater Grand Forks on April 20, 1997. While almost all residents east of I-29 have been sent out of town, those west of I-29, such as those in Richards West, are living comfortably.

Mothers push strollers and children shoot baskets on a day Grand Forks residents have been yearning for since September. Only a few remain to enjoy it.

The only moisture comes from a few sump pumps and the last of the snow melt. The biggest nuisance is the thick dust kicked up by National Guard trucks leaving Sandbag Central. Those trucks piled with sandbags provide the only visible reminder that there's a flood a half-mile to the east.

"There's no water on the streets or the basements here," Kilgore said. "Good God, we're the fortunate ones now."

Laurie Holcomb, on a walk with three of her seven children and her displaced aunt, Connie Lowe, feels the same way. She also feels the irony.

"It's rough here in the winter," she said. "We get a snowdrift 5 to 7 feet high in our driveway for each and every storm. Not just this year, but every year. It's the wind pattern.

"I'm happy and thankful today that we're high and dry. I'm surprised we are because of all the snow out here."

In her temporary home, Lowe was thankful for life's basics that she had taken for granted three days earlier. 'There's no better place to me; Laurie is keeping me dry and fed," she said.

Conserving water

Then Lowe gleefully described how water is being conserved, both the bottled water that had been stockpiled and the city water that had been salvaged before the treatment plant quit working Saturday night. A bathtub and garbage can were filled with contaminated city water needing to be boiled before use.

The water is first used to rinse dishes. It's next used to wash the dishes. Its final function is to flush the toilet.

With a water purification unit expected today, Holcomb and her neighbors hope to ride out the flood. If so, they'll be in a small percentage of residents so blessed.

But, while thousands of evacuees wish they were so lucky, the remaining fortunate are not without their demons.

"I feel somewhat guilty that I'm safe," Kilgore said. "But I also feel good about myself because I spent so many hours sandbagging, helping others. But what I mostly feel is helpless."

Will it last

National Guardsmen told the residents they'd be the last section of Grand Forks to be evacuated. That has them feeling secure. So does the distance of the water and the forecast that has kept the crest at 54 feet.

But such security has been shattered often in the last few days. This is not lost on Lowe, who lost her home at 803 13th Ave. S.

"I was in Hugo's the other day and picked up one of those 'I survived the flood of 1997' T-shirts and put it in my cart," Lowe said. "But then I put it back. I realized I hadn't survived it yet."