I ask Russ what it was like growing up in Vandemere, preparing for floods every year. “Well we can’t predict the damage they’re going to do overall but we do know that we’re gettin’ water comin’ in town. We know how to prepare for em – tie things down, put things up, and we just wait for it to blow through. When we were kids it was a lot of fun but we didn’t know the preparation that went into it. It’s a lot of work. Ya know, you lose business, and you lose personal belongings. Things get wet – family pictures… heirlooms… they get destroyed if you don’t really think about everything. There’s too many things to think about.” 

It’s true. In many of the homes being worked on, personal items are mixed in with the debris. Crinkled family photos hang from the molded walls. Children’s toys are left behind and moved into corners when volunteers come in to gut the homes. Having seen and experienced the damage firsthand, Russ understands the importance of his shop. “After Ed and Dan first stopped by, they just kept coming back and they entertained themselves. They just needed a place to get away because what you guys do got to be heartbreaking at times to see. Families lives destroyed and all their personal belongings scattered about, the houses torn up – so it’s gotta be traumatic. I guess this is a way for them to come down here and relax and forget the day.” 

While it often seems like the workday never ends for a volunteer — from nightly meetings to constant socialization and talk of tomorrow’s work, Squidders is a place to change out of muddy steel toe boots and release the work mentality. It is a space to connect with the community through shelling peanuts and off-key renditions of Johnny Cash rather than conversations focused on loss. It is a reminder that although natural disasters will continue to strike again and again, it is the resilience of the community, the reparative energy of the volunteers, and the shared connection between both parties that rebuilds homes and spirits.