Let me take you back to the day where it all begin. It was November 9, 1984. I was a young pup living in a small village in the south-central Illinois called Brownstown. It was a Friday. I had a haircut that afternoon after school, and it was so warm outside I rode my bike to the appointment.
On the way back, I remember really struggling to ride my bike in the strong winds. I was quite wobbly and had to stop a few times.
At the time I didn't know that two strong indicators for a strong storm or a tornado are unseasonably warm weather and strong winds.
I was supposed to go with the basketball team as their scorekeeper, but for some reason I didn't go.
So after I got back home, my parents went jogging. I think they stayed right in front of our house, just doing laps up and down the street. I think they were concerned about the weather. I remember mom having this sick look on her face.
We loaded up the car for a trip to Vandalia, a nearby town where we often went out to eat, did shopping, watched movies, etc. It was about twenty miles from Brownstown. We always took Route 40 until it met up with I-70. Towards the end of Route 40, it started raining hard. Dad could hardly see out the front window. We still took the on ramp and got on the interstate. We thought it was just another storm, I guess.
And then the hail started. I don't know if I had seen or heard hail before, but it seemed really new to me. It didn't necessarily sound like ice hitting the windshield. It sounded more like large bug splats smacking on our car windows. My mom started to get concerned. My dad nonchalantly said, "Hey kids, look at the hail." I don't really remember seeing the hail either, not like I did at other times. It was just this blinding barrage of water, almost like being in a car wash at 55 mph.
Then for some reason the hail and rain cleared up. It was still raining, but not as hard. It was as if the hail and rain were a thunderous beginning to a musical, and they had left the stage for the main act, the tornadoes. There were two of them. South-west of the interstate but seemingly far away. There was one thin and wiry funnel that hoped around the much larger sibling. I remember seeing electricity bursting around the edges.
Once again my dad told us to look at the tornadoes. As if they were wild life on a safari. And yet, they did seem far away. But my dad's lack of concern was offset by my mom's movement from worry to panic level one. She was urging my dad to drive faster.
And then it seemed like the rain and hail began again. And the cars in front of us slowed down. I remember seeing the back lights of cars. The cars seemed to be backing up, not speeding up.
And this is when we all shifted from mild panic to full blown hysteria. Mom told us to get in the floorboards of the car. She started praying the Lord's prayer over and over again. My sister was bawling. And I was praying every single prayer I knew as well as my own extemporaneous prayers. I couldn't really take my eyes off the sky in the direction of the tornadoes. My dad really couldn't either. I still think he thought it was an amusement park for weather.
And then we were at the exit ramp for Vandalia. The tornadoes had apparently crossed the interstate somewhere behind us and started heading east. As we drove into Vandalia, everything was sickeningly quiet. It's the kind of quiet I've always experienced during a storm, or right before one. And sometimes right after. This was because everyone in Vandalia was probably in their basement. The tornado siren was blaring over the town. We really had no idea what to do, so we drove to the police station. We were supposed to be taking shelter, but we really didn't know where to do that. So I guess the police station was the best idea.
The police let us stay downstairs in what might have been their older jail cells. There were a couple of other families there, including this one family who had a daughter about my age that was the worst kind of person you want to have in a crisis situation. She was full of peppy energy and excitement, and we were just concerned about people we knew in the path of the storms.
The sirens eventually stopped. The all clear was given, but there were still warnings and watches. We were told the tornadoes had headed towards are town, which was of course very disconcerting. We began the drive back and after we exited the interstate to take Route 40 back into Brownstown, there were roadblocks set up. We were not allowed access from that direction. So we hopped back on the interstate and drove to a town on the other side of Brownstown, St. Elmo. This is where many of my relatives, including my Grandparents, Aunts, Uncles, et al., lived, where my mom and dad grew up, and where my mom taught 4th grade.
We quickly dropped by my Grandma's. The doors were unlocked and some of the lights on, but she wasn't home. This set us into a bit of a panic. We then headed towards Brownstown again. As we got closer, all we saw were flashing lights amid complete darkness. Well, darker than normal for a small town in Illinois. We came to a road block again. Somehow we proved we lived in the town but were advised to proceed with caution.
I think we all started to cry again because we knew our little town was hit by the tornadoes. At the time it was the world to me. It wasn't a speck on a map of Illinois. It was still full of adventure. I was not bored with it yet. We had started to drive towards my Aunt's (mom's youngest sister) house. I guess my Uncle had picked up my Grandma and took her over to Brownstown after the tornado. I'm not sure why.
At any rate, we never made it to the house. Their were still power lines, trees and damage on the roads. So we headed back to our house. I think we had called a neighbor already to ask about the damage to our house. So we kinda knew what to expect. We had some shingles off the roof and one of our long, spindling trees was knocked over as well. Other than that, we were pretty unscathed.
We ended up hanging out at a neighbor's house who had a basement until at least 11 PM. We found out later the elementary school was pretty damaged, gym ceiling lifted off and put back on, water everywhere, and the basketball team was safe as well. They were in the school, though, and I guess the coach herded them into the cafeteria. He had all the boys get underneath the cafeteria tables. They were the fold up kinds that were bolted to the walls. Pretty sturdy.
There were no deaths. There were a few minor cuts and bruises, though. A guy that lived in a trailer near my aunt's was asleep on his couch when it struck. The trailer was lifted up and wrapped around the tree. He was spilled out onto the lawn, I guess. My uncle said he showed up at their front door in his underwear, covered in blood, screaming and asking what the hell happened.
A day or so later we took car rides around to survey the damage. The civic center in town was completely destroyed. In fact, chunks of the civic center was thrown through the stain glass windows of the United Methodist Church next door. We attended that church and didn't go to church that Sunday. We heard they did have services, though.
We were finding displaced items all over town. Lawn ornaments in the wrong yards. Slivers of aluminum gutter and roofing stabbing trees and fence posts.
We went by flashlights and candlelight for 3-4 days, and I believe we were out of school for a week. That was pretty awesome.
And for pretty much the rest of the school year, I felt the need to ask my sixth grade teacher for reassurances that we weren't going to have any bad storms or tornadoes that day. I had to come up with creative ways of asking so as not to sound crazy. I'm pretty sure I still sounded crazy, though.
But ever since that day I have always had this inner barometer for severe storms or tornadoes. Unusually warm weather in winter or windy days usually make me feel uneasy. And when I've lived without basements, I've been known to stay at my work way past quitting if they have a basement. Some of my friends consider me a canary in the gold mine for them regarding bad weather.
I felt like I was changed quite a bit by that experience with those tornadoes. And yet, I can't fathom how life-altering it must have been for the people of Joplin, Missouri or even those now on the east coast. The Before and After pictures of Joplin and New York reveal the awesome and destructive power of nature. There's really no better way of saying it than just showing those pictures.
I don't live in fear of bad weather as much as I used to. I like to think I have a healthy respect for its power. And in some ways, it seems so arbitrary.
I am not going to claim that the storms are directed by a higher power. Quite frankly, when I hear of tornadoes jumping one house and hitting another, I just don't get that at all. It seems so random and heartless.
I believe in a loving God. While I do believe in God and His ability to tame the raging seas and storms, I believe that He speaks in a still small voice. Reminds me of one of my favorite verses from the Old Testament:
And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind: and after the wind an earthquake; but the Lord was not in the earthquake:
And after the earthquake a fire; but the Lord was not in the fire: and after the fire a still small voice.
1 Kings 19:11-13I hope I can remember to listen for the voice the next time I'm seeking shelter from the storm.
