The Difference Between Your Homeowners Insurance With and Without Flood Insurance

With all the heavy rains that have happened in the last two days I was curious what kind of damage is covered by insurance. Many people who buy a home where no lake, stream or river is located nearby often opt out of flood insurance seeing as the likelihood of a flood happening as virtually impossible.  I spoke with my insurance agent Scott Doyle of First Insurance of Maine today and he gave me a little insight of homeowners insurance and what it covers.

He has received an influx of calls dealing with residents that have, unfortunately, endured damage to their basements and living quarters due to water seeping into their homes. He informed me of what your insurance covers and why.

A standard homeowners policy will cover water damage due to a leaky roof or if the sump pump in your basement fails. HOWEVER, if the damage done is caused by water flowing into your basement from holes in the walls or seeping up through the floor then that is NOT covered by the standard policy. Those types of damage require FLOOD insurance.

That’s right.

Even if you don’t live in a flood zone, the water coming into your house by these methods is caused by flooding. What happens with the heavy rain is that it finds and makes paths or tunnels through the snow due to gravity. Water will make its own trail to get to where its going. The trails lead toward the walls of your home and, ultimately, to the basement of your house. The water will eventually find the weakest point of your foundation and break through. The tunnels can be on the sides of your house and even underneath. The water that enters this way is considered to be caused by a “flood”.

And if you don’t have flood insurance on your home, the damage won’t be covered. That means if your furnace is damaged: it’s not covered. If your washer and dryer are damaged: it’s not covered. If your items are stored in cardboard boxes, whatever you have will be destroyed. If they are stored in plastic totes they have a better chance of surviving but, ultimately, they won’t be covered either.

Do yourself a favor when purchasing a home: see how much extra a flood insurance policy is. You never know what might happen. A small monthly payment could save you thousands of dollars.

The Old Mainer

The temperatures in Maine in the month of January are frigid. That’s the best way to describe bone-chilling cold that seeps through the layers that we throw on to keep it away from our bodies. Winter in Maine is not for the faint of heart but it is for the Old Mainer.

I met him at the Irving rest stop in Augusta on my way to work when I stopped to fill my tank. It was three below zero and the wind was whipping at a good fifteen miles an hour. I had on my knitted hat, my LL Bean mittens and winter boots because it had snowed almost two feet the night before. Under my heavy fleece jacket were the layers of long sleeve shirt and bulky sweater. I was warm but it was one of those mornings where the wind pushed through everything and you just felt cold.

He pulled up a few pumps away in an older white Mercury sedan about the same time. I watched him get out. My guess was he was at least eighty years old. His skin sunk in a little around his cheeks and was wrinkled. He wore a clean pair of Levi’s, LL Bean duck boots, a white t-shirt and a buttoned blue flannel shirt. He had on his weathered brown Carhartt jacket and a baseball cap covered what little white hair remained on his head. He walked into the store at a leisurely gait with cash in his hand to prepay for his gas.

When I started to fill my car, a newer, black Ford F-150 pulled in a few pumps away on the other side. The man in his thirties jumped down from the lifted truck, pulled out his debit card and started pumping gas. He looked at me and said “Man, it’s cold this morning.” I replied that was pretty chilly. He left the truck and the pump running, did a big shiver, pulled his knit cap a little lower over his ears, shoved his gloved hands into the pocket of his puffy coat and hurried to the store.

The old Mainer was on his way out and held the door open for the young man as he rushed over the threshold.  He walked to his car and proceeded to fill his tank. While it was going, he used the squeegee brush to clean his windshield and his headlights. I notice his hands had no gloves. There was no protection from the wind on his ears.  

The younger man rushed back to his truck, took care of the nozzle and drove away.

The wind picked up and I started to shiver as the handled clicked and told me my tank was full. As I got into my car and prepared to leave, I decided to sit and watch him. He saw me and he gave me a small wave and I waved back and smiled. He finished with the gas cap, got in his car and proceeded to drive away. His license plate was in support of agriculture.

The cold didn’t faze him. He wasn’t in a hurry. He was like many of his generation that adapted to the unpredictable weather in Maine. Two feet of snow? It’s just a dusting. Three below zero? It’s a bit chilly. Here was one of the last of a dying breed of men and women who went about their business, minded their own and complained not of the temperature but adapted to the situation around them and carried on. Here was a man who was helpful to the next generation and polite to those around him. All good lessons you can learn from an Old Mainer.

Always Listen To Your Dad

It was the summer of 1997. I had just quit my first band. I felt I needed to go in a different direction. My biggest love was singing and, suddenly, my weekends were now free and there was no interest from other bands in the area of having me sing with them.

I was heartbroken.

I went to my parent’s house to visit and told them what had happened. I just started crying uncontrollably asking “What am I going to do? I love it so much.”

My father was visibly shaken. He had 1 son but he also had 8 daughters and hated to see any of them cry. He took my face in his hands and lifted my eyes to his. I will never forget that moment. When I looked in his eyes there were tears. He held my head and said “You know what? You have what I didn’t. You’ve got ‘IT’. You have a chance to make it. Don’t you worry. You’ll be okay. You are too good not to sing.” Back when he was in his early 20s, his voice had a close resemblance to that of Josh Groban thanks to training from the priests of his church he received. He missed his chance due to circumstances beyond his control.

Looking into his eyes that day I was determined to not let him down. I wasn’t going to let myself down. When Dad told me something, I always believed him. I wasn’t about to stop then.

Fast forward 21 years.

My father, 82, and my mother, 75, are now housebound. The only time they leave the house in the winter is to go to doctor’s appointments. In the spring, summer, and fall they venture out to their mailbox, their front yard to watch the parade pass by, the fenced-in backyard or are driven to a family gathering by one of us children. We all take turns running errands, cleaning house, cooking meals and just plain old visiting. We all love to visit and talk with them. We bring their grandchildren by to see them. Mom especially loves to see how big they are getting.

I had run an errand to the Christmas Tree Shop in Augusta and the Village Market in Fairfield the day before and stopped in to visit and deliver their purchases while my son was at Boy Scouts and my step-daughter was at basketball practice. They reimbursed me for the items I had bought them and we started talking.

My mother always asks “What’s new?” So I told them about the antics we had at work at the Maine Veterans’ Home that day, my meeting with the Stake President of my church and our plans for Christmas Day. I had them laughing when I told them about our cat who repeatedly clears a room due to its flatulence.  I mentioned that we had the weekend off from playing in the band because it was Christmas weekend and my dad startled.

“That reminds me,“ he piped up, “I had a dream about you last night.” I was so surprised. Dad never mentioned things like this.
“Me? What was I doing?” I started to laugh.

“Remember when you were at the Waterville Opera House and Ma and I were in our seats on the aisle and you sang that song to us?” I did. It was one of the best moments of my life. “The one where you got the standing ovation? Man,” he said “that was incredible. It was so good. You need to do that again. I dreamt about that last night.”

I was fighting back tears. My mind flashed back to that summer day 21 years ago and I had to hold it together. I didn’t want my dad to think he was making me cry even if they were tears of joy.

I cleared my throat and managed to make an announcement to them. “Thanks, Dad. As a matter of fact, I have big news. I have started a Miranda Lambert Tribute band and our first gig is in 3 months! I will be up on stage again just like that. The crazy thing is that I just booked a second one with a wonderful lady that says it’s going to be great. I haven’t even performed the first one yet! I am really hoping they go well because I’d like to branch out and take the show all over New England.”  Their eyes lit up.

“Wow! All over New England, you say?” said Dad. 

“That sounds cool,” added Mom.

I explained how I would wear a wig and have a costume change or two and how my younger sister, Jenny, would be singing back up. Practices were starting right after Christmas. I have a great group of musicians behind me including lead player Bruce Burpee, bass player Ed Nevins, rhythm player Larry Tilton and drummer Kyle Melcher. My husband, Chad, would be running the sound for us.

“Well,” Dad said “that sounds good. Good, good, good.”

“I’m glad you like it, Dad. I’ll make a video for you and you’ll be able to see it.”

“Good, good, good.” He nodded his head and smiled.

I have been singing in bands since I was 17 years old. Six years ago, thanks to the encouragement of my husband, I started my own band, Sharon Hood & Dixon Road. We have since opened for Luke Bryan, Keith Urban and, yes, Miranda Lambert. Now I’ve started this new venture paying tribute to a woman I admire so much.

Dad was right.

I was okay.
And I’m still singing.