by
Janis Susan May/Janis Patterson
Adventure and danger are fun in
fiction. In real life – not. Two weeks ago on the day after Christmas ten to
twelve (depending on which weatherman you listen to) tornadoes hit Dallas and
its suburbs.
That afternoon had been warm and
humid. The Husband and I had indulged in a quick dip in the hot tub, knowing it
would probably be the last for a while as cold weather was predicted. We had
been in only about a quarter of an hour when it started to rain. Of course we immediately
dashed into the house – like we were afraid we’d get wet, huh? – because we
knew a big storm was predicted.
We just didn’t know how much of a
storm it would be. It rained sporadically but not very hard for a couple of
hours, Then, just around dark, chaos began. The Husband turned on the TV
because one of our favorite shows was coming on – except it wasn’t. Every local
channel was doing a continual broadcast of the weather. Semi-hysterical
weathermen were pointing at multi-colored maps and advising us to find safe
rooms in our houses. (We don’t have one, except a closet or two – our house is
very open and has many many windows.) I must admit that we weren’t alarmed; the
local weathermen have a tendency to get hysterical about ‘approaching bad
weather’ that turns out to be nothing but a mild thunderstorm. They do have to
keep their ratings up.
This time, however, they were spot
on. A few minutes later the rain came, and that was really rain, as if someone
had pointed a squadron of fire hoses straight down on our house. After less than
half a minute the gutters couldn’t handle the volume and simply overflowed,
wrapping the house in a dense curtain of water. The tornado siren less than a
quarter of a mile away began to wail. It didn’t stop for over half an hour. On
the TV the weatherman was pointing to a bright red/pink area of tornadic
activity and we were not cheered to see that it was right over our
neighborhood. The wind was fierce, blowing the rain almost sideways. I was
afraid that it would be as bad as it had been a couple of years ago, when The
Husband had been deployed overseas, when a straight line wind blew so hard it stripped
the trees, blew the heavy cover right off the hot tub and shaved a bunch of
shingles off the roof, but for us at least it wasn’t. This time. We were
fortunate enough to suffer no damage other than the loss of a lot of leaves and
a few small branches, flooded gutters and a completely drenched property. Thank
You, God. There has been an unprecedented aftereffect, though. 2015 was a very
wet year for our region. There had been heavy rain both before and several
times after the tornadoes stormed through and the ground was saturated. I
didn’t realize how wet it was until we opened the scuttlehole to the crawlspace
beneath the house – and for the first time in my memory (and I grew up in this
house) there was water standing there. Almost an inch of standing water,
despite the fact we live on the top of a substantial hill! Amazing – and in its
own way frightening.
Some people weren’t so lucky. Less
than ten miles away, in the southeastern suburb cities (yes, Dallas is big)
tornadoes started striking. A tornado at night is so much more frightening,
because it is almost impossible to see. There are some photos of the funnels
touching down, at least two taken by the light of things exploding behind it. There
were estimates of over 140 homes so completely destroyed they were almost
vaporized. One of The Husband’s friends at work had his home so severely
damaged they may never be able to go back. I don’t know the final death toll,
but it has to be at least a dozen. My heart bleeds for those families whose
homes were destroyed and even more for those who lost loved ones. It’s bad
enough that anyone should have to suffer such losses, but for it to happen the
day after the happiest and most blessed day of the year is adding insult to
injury. May God comfort and be with them.
But in every disaster there are
spots of unbelievable kindness. Within hours of the disaster volunteer search
and rescue teams were out looking for trapped survivors – both human and animal.
A vet was offering free boarding for the pets of people whose homes were
damaged or destroyed until they could get things together. A storage company
offered the storm’s victims a free month of storage for what they could salvage.
Ordinary citizens not only pitched in to help search but brought armloads of
donations, including gift cards. Texas has always been a can-do, help your
neighbor kind of state and this proves it yet again.
Tornadoes are a part of life in this
part of the world. I remember a couple of years ago – and The Husband was
deployed overseas this time too – I was sitting in my office (also known as the
guest bedroom) trying to work. It was a grey, overcast spring day (my favorite
kind) and gradually I became aware that the sirens were not only going off, but
had been doing so for quite a while. Frankly I was annoyed at the noise,
because it made it hard to concentrate. Finally I realized what those sirens
meant and, never having been very bright, ran outside to see if I could spot
anything. There was nothing visible other than low, thick grey clouds.
That day they say there were
nineteen tornadoes dancing through the metroplex area, damaging or destroying
all they touched. The best analogy I can offer is that of a heedless two year
old stamping merrily around a garden – one foot here, another there, without
regard to the helpless flowers underfoot. And don’t feel too safe no matter
where you live – meteorologists say tornadoes can occur anywhere in the world,
even if over eighty percent happen in the southern central part of the United
States.
Yes, tornadoes are part of life in this
part of the world, but as a seventh generation Texan I wouldn’t live anywhere
else.
