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Hey there. This is David Green. I'm going to be guest hosting in conversation until Shumita returns from parental leave.
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Before we get into today's episode, just
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a warning that this episode does contain descriptions of child loss, drowning and grief. This is in conversation from Apple News. I'm David Green in for Shumita Basu.
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Today, one family story of survival and healing after the Texas floods. In the early morning of July 4, 2025, Texas Monthly Editor Aaron Parsley was at his family's home on the Guadalupe river northwest of San Antonio. He was there for the holiday weekend with his husband Patrick, his dad Clint, his sister Alyssa, her husband lance and their two small children, Rosemary and Clay. Aaron's dad and stepmom bought the house back in 2021 as a place for the family to vacation to watch their grandkids grow up.
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It sat on a stretch of the river that's really wide and really slow and really beautiful, lined with cypress trees. It's idyllic, it's beautiful.
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Rain was in the forecast. The area was flood prone, but their house was built for it. It sat on huge concrete pillars 20ft off the ground above the likely flood zone.
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We know that this river floods and we thought that we were safe and it's really, really hard to imagine the river coming out of its banks and crawling all the way up the yard and up those pillars and onto the deck and into the house.
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But tragically, that is exactly what happened. Around 4am the family woke up to water rapidly rising around their home.
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I remember hearing the debris hitting the house. I remember seeing the lamp swing. I remember when the floor seemed to move. We saw water coming in along the walls and in a bedroom that's in the middle of My dad remembers when he walked into the bedroom and the carpet was floating.
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They quickly realized there was no escape. 911 dispatchers said that they didn't even know when or if rescue would come. Then suddenly the house ripped apart and the family was separated in the surging water. Erin survived the night by clinging to a tree. Erin's sister Alyssa held onto her two children as best she could, her four year old daughter Rosemary in one, her nearly two year old son Clay in the other. But the water was too strong. Clay was swept away. Later as the floodwater receded and rescue crews searched the area. Over 130 people were found dead, including Clay and more than 30 other children, many of whom were at a nearby summer camp called Camp Mystic.
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We never could have imagined the scale of what was about to happen.
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Aaron's harrowing account of what happened to his family that night won the Pulitzer Prize for feature writing. He's out now with another piece about their year since the flood, and he has a new podcast about the disaster. I sat down with Aaron to talk about his story of survival and what grief and recovery have looked like for his family and for his community nearly one year after the flood.
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I wonder if we could kind of talk through the immediate aftermath. What did the area look like that morning when you survived the night and reunited with most of your family and came down from that tree?
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Well, I had a pretty limited view. I was in the tree and it was dark. And I got out of the tree and it was light. And I was at the edge of that river right in front of this home that is owned by a couple that lived there part time. And I went right up their yard, up this hill and into their home. And I stayed there with my husband, Patrick, until we were evacuated by some first responders who came hours later. And they drove us to Ingram elementary, which was a reunification center that was just getting set up. When we were there, I could see houses destroyed. I could see trees that had come down all over the place. I could see cars that looked like crumbled tin cans, you know, sheds, large objects. Just stuff everywhere, mud and sticks and debris. It looked like another world.
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I imagine you experiencing this in different ways. I mean, like, you're a journalist, and I could imagine kind of the instinct of, I'm going to take in this scene and understand the scope, but also, like you had confronted the reality of maybe never seeing your husband again. How, in a moment so traumatic do you kind of balance the writerly side of you taking in something so terrible and also kind of the personal trauma of both loss and survival?
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I think that that creates a sense of disbelief. You know, I think my mind works as a storyteller. I used to work for People magazine, and I covered Natural Dis. And so, you know, I've talked to folks who've been through things like this. I've told those stories before in the past. And I remember at some point kind of realizing it was sinking in how widespread this was, and that there could be many, many more people who were lost or were stranded or needed to be rescued. And it was very unusual to be a part of one of those stories. Like, this story is hard to believe, and it's even harder to believe that it's happening to me.
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So the piece that you did, right, for Texas Monthly, I mean, the level of detail from what you lived through, and also your family felt. So in the moment, how quickly did you turn into the writer and start asking your family what they had lived through, particularly when you weren't with them, like in those first hours, and start crafting the story?
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Yeah, I think in the middle of an event like this, when you get to safety and you reunite with your family, it is natural to start telling each other what you saw, what you remember, what you heard, what it felt like. We spent most of the day at my sister's house consoling each other, consoling her, taking care of the business that comes with an event like this. There was a lot of people coming and going, so we just started telling each other these details and these memories, I think right away. And I think that lasted for quite some time. In terms of when I sat down to write anything, it was the next day. And it started as an email. I emailed my editor in chief, Ross McCammon, and a couple other colleagues. I wanted to tell them what happened to me and my family. I wanted to let them know that my nephew Clay, was missing at that time, and thinking that maybe there was something they could do to help. I just had a sense that this was a much bigger story than just what had happened to me, and I wanted to let them know that, if possible, with all that was going on, that I would want to contribute. Ross told me that the email that I had sent was essentially the beginning of what could become a story that the magazine would publish. And so that's sort of how it began. And then I began a reporting process where I did have to go back to my family and ask them specific questions, fill in gaps in the timeline, get their perspective, ask them what they remember, what they felt. And that was unusual and tricky and difficult. We're essentially a family in grief. There was times when any of us, especially Lance and Alyssa, were in intense, extreme grief. And so it's, you know, to ask questions, to hear from them, to sort of pinpoint moments. It's tricky.
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You won the Pulitzer for the original piece that you published, and you said winning that prize was complicated. I want to understand kind of that feeling of complicated. What is that?
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Yeah, of course. I think to be recognized and celebrated for my work feels wonderful. I feel proud. It was a shock, and it felt like, you know, a dream coming true in a way, and that's a good feeling. But it all happened because I lost my nephew, Clay, and because we went through, you know, a really difficult thing, and there's a lot of pain there and it's still very present, and it's very disorienting to sort of reckon with both of those realities, you know, and it took me a while to kind of figure out how to separate those things, that I can be very proud of the work and still be extremely sad about the event.
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Your new piece, it's so different than the first one. I mean, your first piece that won the Pulitzer was, you know, just this raw accounting of tragedy through your eyes. I mean, I feel like this new piece is.
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It's like.
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It's almost a meditation or a series of reflections on healing and making sense of it all a year on. I mean, say more about what. What you were trying to. To do personally and also bring to all of us through this. This new writing.
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Yeah, it was difficult to figure out what I had to say. And I think what it boiled down to is trying to convey what it's like to be a survivor. And what do survivors do? They have to deal with grief. We also have a lot of joy and relief and gratitude for what we still have. And that was certainly something that I experienced firsthand. You know, I grieve for my nephew Clay. I am heartbroken for my sister and Lance and Rosemary. You know, I worry about my father. At the same time, I'm so grateful for my husband and his survival and for my own survival and for. So I think that's just an example of what I was trying to do. There's trauma. You know, rainstorms don't feel the same as they used to, and it's been raining a lot here in Central Texas these past couple weeks. And, you know, it can put you on edge after you've been through what we've been through, you know, like, for my sister and Lance and the effort that they've put forth to show up for each other, show up for their daughter, it's a huge, huge effort. It's a huge burden that they carry. You know, it gets better over time, but it's even just hard to get out of bed sometimes, much less put on a smile, much less put on a Halloween costume and go trick or treating with your daughter or to take her to school where you thought your son was gonna go one day. I mean, there are memories all over the place and reminders of what happened all over the place. So I just wanted to kind of convey, you know, all of that. All of that experience of what it means to survive something, what it means to be a survivor. And I think part of that is also telling your story. I also have been asking questions, reevaluating my faith and what I believe in. And that's a huge part of survival, too. You know, you go through something like that, you see how insignificant the universe can make you feel, and it raises questions. And, you know, for me, faith is important. It's part of how I stay sober. So the stakes are high. And that's another aspect of what this year has been like and what it's like to survive a natural disaster.
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You do write a lot about faith and how your relationship with faith has changed through this. Like, what is that change? What is your perspective on a higher power now compared to, say, a couple years ago?
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Yeah, this is a tough question that I ask myself every single day still. I got a really good look at my higher power on July 4th, and I think that in the past, before this event, it was easy for me to believe that, you know, something was looking out for me. I had a lot of good fortune in my life, a lot of opportunity, and certainly a lot of privilege. And when I needed to find faith, I was able to find faith in a higher power that had taken care of me, in a sense. And I think that's what's changed. I know that my higher power is the reason I'm here, and it's the force that will determine my life and shape me and help me evolve. And I think what I believe now is that I can put some faith in myself and make sure that evolution, that reshaping is in a way that I. That I can feel good about the opportunity that I have to do with this, what I can do with this experience. You know, I can use it to be a good person, to help other people, to protect my family and to make those connections that I was talking about. So I think it's just a small adjustment in what I believe, and it can be hard to explain, but, yeah, I think that when you experience Mother Nature, when you experience the forces of the universe and you feel that powerless and that insignificant, it sort of creates these questions. I felt like I needed to reevaluate. I felt like I needed to do a bit of seeking again. And, you know, that's what you do when you get new information, and that's what it felt like.
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I wanted to ask you about your niece, Rosemary. How is she doing a year on from this?
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Rosemary is wonderful. She's a delight to be around. She's curious and hilarious and extremely active. And, you know, she is, in a lot of ways, an example of how I want to live, you know, to be in the moment to show your love, to try new things, to learn and play and grow. She's extremely resilient. You know, I know that it's been difficult. She has memories of that morning. She understands what happened to her brother. She's shared that with us. You know, she's processing it in her own way. She's had access to very good care, which I'm grateful for. And so, you know, she's wonderful, and I love her very much.
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Part of your first piece that you published was a letter for her. Why was it important for you to write that directly to her?
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Well, I wanted to convey the beautiful time that we had. I knew that that was important to this story. It was a really idyllic July 3rd, and I think, you know, in my memory now, of course, it feels almost like it's got this golden glow. I cherish my memories of that day. It feels like the last time we were all genuinely happy and had peace. And so I thought that was important for her to remember, that it wasn't just this horrible thing. I wanted her to know how impressed we are with her, you know, and, of course, I wanted her to know the truth about her mom and what her mom was able to do. I don't know that we'll ever know what it took to get her daughter into that tree and to stay by her side. It's heroic, and it's a miracle, and I wanted to put that in the record, and I wanted her to know about that.
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Part of your process over the last year has been to do some real reporting by going to talk to a meteorologist to really understand the warnings that were sent, how this might have happened.
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Why do that?
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What were you looking for in those conversations with him?
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I had a really incredible afternoon at the National Weather Service. I went there because I wanted to understand as much as I could about the weather system that caused the flood and to hear from Jason Runyon, who was the lead forecaster on duty during the flood, about what he saw, what he understood, and just what it's like to be a forecaster, a meteorologist, during an event like this. He shared a presentation with me that kind of walks me through the timeline and explained to me what's coming in from where in terms of information and data and what they do about it and how they make their decisions to warn people, to put out warnings and watches and things. So in wanting to learn about the weather, I learned about his job and the science that he does. I also just learned about a man whose purpose is to Save lives and who does it with a lot of heart and a lot of humanity. And I just had a really emotional and powerful conversation with him about what it means to be someone who dedicates their life to trying to understand something that's fundamentally out of our control, you know, and so it was an effort for me to go and try to understand a storm and what causes a storm like that and what causes so much rainfall. But what I left understanding is, you know, what it means to live a life of service and to try to do some good in the world. I mean, ultimately, that's kind of what he's about. And I understood that in a big way.
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I think we obviously learned about the tragedy in so many different ways, but a lot of us followed, you know, the missing girls and the counselors and what happened at Camp Mystic. Is there something you feel like we as outsiders have not really processed or understood in the right way as we look back on these events a year ago?
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Well, I think that I would just say that people have a lot of feelings about what comes next after a disaster like this. And what I've learned, both within my family and with other survivors and with everything that's been in the news about Camp mystic is that none of us have experienced this flood in the same way. You know, even within my family, depending on where we were in the house and who we are and what we lost, our experience is different. And I think that can put a strain on these relationships because expectations are different and the grief is different, the trauma is different. And I see that playing out on a bigger scale, certainly. And I think what I would want the world to know about what's going on is that it's hard, and everyone's experiencing it differently, and everyone's moving at their own pace and needs different things, and. And my hope is that people will offer patience and grace and empathy to the people who lost the most, to the people who were there and the people who lived through it. You know, in my family, it's a loss of a child. It's the loss of a home that will never be the same again. For my sister and Lance and Rosemary, you know, their home is no longer the same in Austin with the child missing. It's not the same place that it was. Do you know what I'm saying? So there's a lot of loss and a lot of levels that's going on, and I think. I hope that people will give that grace and that understanding to the folks who are experiencing that.
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That sounds so important. I Mean, I think we can sort of assume when we read headlines and anniversary stories, like, we get it, we know that, you know, a community of people went through something terrible. But you can fall into a trap of forgetting that each individual family, each individual person, like what your sister and brother in law and niece have gone through is completely unique. It's a unique form of trauma that really no one can probably fully understand if you're not living it.
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Yeah, and I think that's a goal with the podcast that I've been working on and the story that I wrote ahead of the anniversary. And like, there's connections that I've been trying to make too, like my friend Michael McCown, who lost his daughter Linnie at Camp Mystic. You know, he was here in Austin when he found out what happened. And so he had questions for me about what it was like to be out there because he wanted to understand what his daughter went through. And in turn, he has helped me understand what it's like to be a parent who lost a child. And that helps me understand my sister. So I think through this work, you know, it allows us to create these connections and draw these connections and understand people better. And what I want to do with that is, again, just offer support and grace and empathy and. And the time that people need to heal and work through what this kind of thing does to you.
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What's your relationship to that river now?
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Well, I think that the river is. It's the thing that. That changed my life and it's the thing that took my nephew and changed my family. I think that's what it is. And that I was there, that we were all there that morning when that storm came by. All of it has played a part in how my life looks now. And so in a sense, it's nothing less than the reason that I'm here talking to you. So I recognize that. And that's what it will probably be for a long time. I hope, and I expect that it will be a beautiful place where people go to experience joy and togetherness and to enjoy the outdoors and all that stuff that it was before. I'm sure that'll happen again. But for me, it just is the place where everything changed. It's the turning point.
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Aaron, thank you so much for spending time and all the best to you and your entire family while I'll be thinking about you as you continue to heal through all this.
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Thank you, David. I. I really enjoyed the conversation. I appreciate it.
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We'll include a link to Aaron's work for Texas Monthly, both his Pulitzer Prize
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winning piece and his new feature on our Show Notes page. If you're listening in the Apple News
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app, we'll queue up the audio story
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to play for you next. And every weekend you can find new episodes of Apple News and conversation in the News app.
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Just tap on the Audio tab, the
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little headphones at the bottom, to find it.
This episode offers an intimate and harrowing account of survival, loss, and healing after the catastrophic Texas floods of July 4, 2025. Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Aaron Parsley recounts the devastation that struck his family during the disaster, the immediate aftermath, and how the year since has shaped their journey through grief and recovery. The conversation explores storytelling through trauma, the complexities of faith, the unique paths of healing for survivors, and the broader community impact.
Setting the Scene:
Aaron describes the family holiday gathering at their river house, thought to be safe from flooding due to its 20-foot elevation on concrete pillars.
The Catastrophe:
In the early hours, floodwaters rose with alarming speed, ultimately tearing the house apart. The family was separated in the torrent; Aaron clung to a tree to survive, his sister Alyssa tried to hold onto both of her children but lost her son Clay to the flood.
The Scale of Disaster:
Over 130 people died, including more than 30 children, with Camp Mystic, a nearby summer camp, suffering significant losses.
“We know that this river floods and we thought that we were safe… it's really hard to imagine the river coming out of its banks and crawling all the way up the yard… But tragically, that is exactly what happened.” – Aaron Parsley, (01:27)
Immediate Aftermath:
Aaron recounts reuniting with surviving family members, observing a landscape transformed by destruction.
Dual Perspectives – Journalist and Survivor:
The challenge of experiencing trauma firsthand while instinctively documenting and assessing the scene as a journalist.
“...it was very unusual to be part of one of those stories… this story is hard to believe, and it's even harder to believe that it's happening to me.” – Aaron Parsley, (05:26)
Beginning to Write:
Aaron and family began sharing their stories immediately as part of mutual consolation. His first written account started as an email to his editor, which became the Pulitzer-winning piece.
“In the middle of an event like this… it's natural to start telling each other what you saw, what you remember…” – Aaron Parsley, (06:34)
“It all happened because I lost my nephew Clay, and because we went through…a really difficult thing, and there's a lot of pain there…” – Aaron Parsley, (08:52)
New Writing as Meditation:
The new piece explores ongoing survival, trauma, gratitude, vulnerability, and daily reminders of loss.
Survivor’s Experience:
Balancing profound sadness with relief and appreciation for what remains. The challenge of engaging in routine activities despite persistent reminders of loss.
Faith and Personal Growth:
The experience called for a reevaluation of faith and meaning.
“Rainstorms don't feel the same as they used to…You know, it can put you on edge after you've been through what we've been through.” – Aaron Parsley, (10:07)
Evolving Relationship with Faith:
After the floods, Aaron’s belief in a higher power shifted. He now feels driven to use the opportunity of survival purposefully and help others.
“I know that my higher power is the reason I’m here…and I think what I believe now is that I can put some faith in myself and make sure that evolution…is in a way… I can feel good about...” – Aaron Parsley, (12:38)
Search for Meaning:
Experiencing such intense loss altered Aaron's outlook on providence, requiring him to seek new understanding.
Rosemary’s Strength:
Aaron’s niece, Rosemary, survived, showing remarkable resilience despite memories of the tragedy. She has benefitted from strong support and has become an inspiration for Aaron.
“She is, in a lot of ways, an example of how I want to live… She's extremely resilient…” – Aaron Parsley, (14:31)
A Letter for Rosemary:
Aaron wrote a letter for Rosemary in his article to preserve the memory of the family’s joyful moments and to honor her mother’s heroism.
Reporting Beyond the Personal:
Aaron met with meteorologist Jason Runyon at the National Weather Service to understand the disaster’s meteorology and warning process.
The Humanity of Service:
Aaron’s conversation with Runyon illustrated the dedication and emotional weight of being responsible for warning the public about uncontrollable forces.
“…what I left understanding is…what it means to live a life of service and to try to do some good in the world.” – Aaron Parsley, (16:58)
Individual Paths Through Trauma:
The experience of the flood differs deeply between families and individuals, even within the same household. Healing requires patience, empathy, and recognizing the uniqueness of each loss.
Building Connections:
Aaron discusses drawing connections with others affected, like Michael McCown, who lost his daughter, to help mutual understanding and support.
“…none of us have experienced this flood in the same way…my hope is that people will offer patience and grace and empathy…” – Aaron Parsley, (19:10)
A Place Forever Changed:
For Aaron, the river is now both the site of loss and a central figure in his life’s narrative—a turning point that shaped his current outlook and journey.
“It's the thing that changed my life and it's the thing that took my nephew and changed my family…it's the place where everything changed. It's the turning point.” – Aaron Parsley, (22:16)
Throughout, Aaron Parsley’s language is candid, reflective, and empathetic. His account is imbued with journalist's clarity and survivor’s raw emotion, moving fluidly between descriptive narrative, philosophical introspection, and heartfelt tribute.
This episode is more than a recounting of catastrophic loss. It is a profound meditation on trauma, the imperfect process of healing, the trials of reporting from within, and the necessity of grace—not just for the survivors, but for all who engage with tragedy, directly or from afar. Aaron’s perspective underscores the individuality of grief and the perpetual work of survival.