On Thunderstorms
Bowling Green – and most of Western Kentucky seems to have shut down for the night because there are some bad storms moving through the area. True, severe thunderstorms that may spawn tornadoes isn’t normal November weather fare… but still.
I remember when I was little, and we were living in the hovel in Greenfield, Missouri, I first figured out what the phrase “sheets of rain” meant. I was standing on the couch looking out the window, and the wind was blowing the rain and you could see the wind moving in waves across the yard. I had never seen the wind push the rain in such a fashion.
Later when I was working at Aunt Kay’s Kids daycare, there was some severe weather. And I stood at the patio door watching the wind blow the rain sideways – I know now that those are called strong lateral winds. And I was transfixed by the raw power of the storm. That is until Kay told me that I could sit there and take the risk of being covered in glass when the window broke if I wanted to, but she was going downstairs to the basement with the kids where it was safe. And after thinking a moment, I figured that was a really good idea. But I wasn’t scared, but excited.
Then the STORM hit. If you live in the area, you know what I’m talking about. The big storm in April – and I can’t remember the year, but it would have to have been 1996 or later as I had the Nissan at the time. I had left work from Kinko’s on time, for once, and was at home with Token (my dog) and Mitch (my cat) and Jose was at work. And all of the sudden the COWS siren went off. I couldn’t figure out what was going on – so I went to the neighbor in the next apartment and they informed me that it meant there was a tornado somewhere. Being the good employee, I called my work and told them to shut down all the machines and computers til the storm had passed and then settled down by the picture window in the living room to watch the weather. Then I began to hear this pinging in the back of the house, and the pinging became louder. It was hail – big hail. Suddenly, I heard the window break. I looked out the living room window and couldn’t see anything. The wind was blowing the rain so hard that the window had turned into a white sheet of nothingness. Mitch had run up the hallway and nestled himself on top of the refrigerator, and Token was freaking out a bit. I called back to Kinko’s to tell them to get everyone in the restroom or the office because the weather was very severe and I thought a tornado was coming – and then I sat in the closet with Token (my 50lb mutt) trying to sit on my shoulder. Of course I chose the hall closet so I could still look out the window. I figured that if I was going to have to survive a tornado, I should at least be able to see it. I continued to hear crashing in the bedroom – which was hail coming through the window (did I mention it was big hail – softball size hail). And then suddenly it was over. I ran outside and was standing in about 4 inches of ice cold water. I went over to my car and thought that all things considered it had weathered the storm o.k. Of course my glasses were so fogged by the temperature changed that I didn’t see that my front and rear view windows were gone and the entire right side, hood and trunk looked more like a golf ball than an actual car.
That storm is the storm that changed my perception of storms. No longer am I excited or thrilled by the strong wind. Now, I get a little anxious. So with everything closing down tonight – and everyone panicked – my concession to my fear was to call my neighbor and ask her to turn on her weather radio – as when you live in the middle of no where you don’t get a COWS siren to call out and let you know you need to take cover. My other concession is to stay moderately decent so that if I have to take cover, I’m not sitting around in a tee shirt and underwear while Channel 13 is asking how I feel now that I’ve lost everything. And again, I worry about my pictures and scrapbooks – the only thing in the house that can’t be replaced (except the kids) – so I expect to have to make 2 trips to the basement – and you think I’m kidding.
I do miss the sheer pleasure in watching a storm and seeing the wind and not having that respect dampened with a healthy dose of fear – and I hope that I’m not teaching my sense of unease to my children. Of course as I’m on the computer typing this instead of sitting in the basement as we speak, well that says something I guess.
But I’m getting off line now –
