An Associated Press article this morning about storm shelters brought back memories of the lump in the of dirt in the back yard of the home where I grew up. We called it the "storm pit" — a concrete-walled room set into a pile of dirt on the fringe of the yard. Its front was a stone wall emerging from the red clay with a badly weathered wooden door.
My siblings and I knew the storm pit as a remnant of the house's builder and former owner, a man known to us as "Mr. Privette." We knew little about him. We were told that his wife was frightened of storms, so he built the storm pit as a refuge where they could ride out storms. A steel pipe poked through the dirt at the back of the storm pit, providing a horizontal chimney for a wood stove that was no longer in the small, underground room. The earth on top of the storm pit eroded away over the years, revealing the concrete roof with protruding rebar, but the structure itself wasn't going anywhere. It would easily stand up to the worst weather, although that door might fly away in any major gust.
My family never used the storm pit for its intended purpose. No tornadoes ever roared through that section of North Carolina where the Piedmont turned into the Sandhills. Thunderstorms were common, but we never hid in the concrete safe room from their flashing and booming. The storm pit was a playhouse and a storeroom for us. I could stand atop the mound and look out over the stoney rim and pretend I was on a castle's parapet or the Alamo's roof. Snakes, insects and other critters took over the unused concrete room, discouraging us from entering its dark, musty confines. Some old furniture was stored there because there was no other place for it.
When people across the country began building fallout shelters in the early 1960s, my parents talked about a new use for the storm pit. We might ride out a nuclear attack in that little space. I'm glad we never got to try it out.
Now, the AP reports, storm shelters are all the rage. Mr. Privette was 80 years ahead of his time. Safe rooms are being built into houses, and storm shelters are being dug into back yards. Last year's horrifying, deadly tornadoes make such precautions seem not so eccentric or wasteful. None of us who grew up playing in and around that storm pit have a storm shelter at our current homes. If a storm comes, we'll huddle in a downstairs bathroom or closet and hope for the best.
Showing posts with label tornadoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tornadoes. Show all posts
Monday, April 30, 2012
Monday, May 9, 2011
Yard trees are blowin' in the wind
I recently passed a house in the neighborhood with a front yard that looked like a lumber yard. A half dozen or more huge pines had been cut, leaving tall, straight tree trunks lying askew all over the lawn. I had no way of knowing whether this was an effect of the April 16 tornadoes that uprooted and splintered trees all around Wilson or simply a landscaping decision. I do know that each time there's a powerful storm that topples trees, more healthy trees that survived the winds are sacrificed by homeowners as a preventative measure. We saw it happen in 1996 and 1999 after hurricanes Fran and Floyd, and I have no doubt that many homeowners, having seen trees that crashed through roofs last month, are contemplating getting rid of the trees in their yards.
Call me crazy, but I don't see the logic in destroying perfectly healthy trees to avoid what might happen sometime in some future storm. Although Hurricane Fran toppled hundreds of trees in Wilson, thousands of other trees withstood the same winds. The reward for such persistent strength should not be a chainsaw. The tall pines I saw lying horizontal recently were probably 50 years old or older. They cannot be replaced for at least 20 years. A snap decision to cut down a tree cannot be reversed for a generation, and some trees thrive for hundreds of years if allowed to grow unimpeded.
As to the idea that trees present an imminent danger to houses and other structures, I have a theory: Trees withstand wind better if they are grouped together. An isolated oak or pine is more likely to fall or splinter in a strong wind than a tree that has other trees nearby to buffer the winds. Homeowners who take out all but one or two trees might have been better off to leave the trees to stand together against the wind.
Dead or diseased trees have to be removed. I've had to remove two tall pines from my lot in the past few years because they had died. I hated to do it. I hate to take out trees (and not just because it's expensive) because I know I cannot replace them, and I will not see their beauty or enjoy their shade again in my lifetime. Homeowners who have a real phobia about winds should consider planting smaller trees, such as dogwoods and crape myrtles, that withstand winds well and don't do much damage even if they do fall.
Trees are treasures to be cultivated and enjoyed. They gobble carbon dioxide and replenish the oxygen in the air. Their leaves provide cooling shade in summer and compost through the winter. Their branches provide natural climbing gyms for young boys. Their towering heights inspire and amaze us. Their fall colors leave us in awe. They are focal points for landscaping.
Sometimes trees fall, causing damage or injury, but those incidents are rare. We should not cut down healthy trees for fear of wind just as we should not blow up the family car for fear of a traffic accident.
Call me crazy, but I don't see the logic in destroying perfectly healthy trees to avoid what might happen sometime in some future storm. Although Hurricane Fran toppled hundreds of trees in Wilson, thousands of other trees withstood the same winds. The reward for such persistent strength should not be a chainsaw. The tall pines I saw lying horizontal recently were probably 50 years old or older. They cannot be replaced for at least 20 years. A snap decision to cut down a tree cannot be reversed for a generation, and some trees thrive for hundreds of years if allowed to grow unimpeded.
As to the idea that trees present an imminent danger to houses and other structures, I have a theory: Trees withstand wind better if they are grouped together. An isolated oak or pine is more likely to fall or splinter in a strong wind than a tree that has other trees nearby to buffer the winds. Homeowners who take out all but one or two trees might have been better off to leave the trees to stand together against the wind.
Dead or diseased trees have to be removed. I've had to remove two tall pines from my lot in the past few years because they had died. I hated to do it. I hate to take out trees (and not just because it's expensive) because I know I cannot replace them, and I will not see their beauty or enjoy their shade again in my lifetime. Homeowners who have a real phobia about winds should consider planting smaller trees, such as dogwoods and crape myrtles, that withstand winds well and don't do much damage even if they do fall.
Trees are treasures to be cultivated and enjoyed. They gobble carbon dioxide and replenish the oxygen in the air. Their leaves provide cooling shade in summer and compost through the winter. Their branches provide natural climbing gyms for young boys. Their towering heights inspire and amaze us. Their fall colors leave us in awe. They are focal points for landscaping.
Sometimes trees fall, causing damage or injury, but those incidents are rare. We should not cut down healthy trees for fear of wind just as we should not blow up the family car for fear of a traffic accident.
Friday, April 29, 2011
On what day did God create tornadoes?
"We believe in one God,
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen ..."
—The Nicene Creed
Why did God ever create tornadoes? That has to be on the minds of millions of people who have witnessed, even vicariously, the destruction left across Alabama and much of the South by this weeks' killer tornadoes. More than 200 people died senselessly as air masses collided into a roiling, rotating, whirling wind that hit puny man-made structures and towering trees with a power that seems unimaginably evil but that is, in fact, natural. America's heartland is where tornadoes are born, where warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico collides with cold, dry air from Canada, and the concentrated power of gentle winds unleash a destruction that rivals the combined power of the world's military arsenals. It is a scientific phenomenon that we have learned to study and predict. Heartbreaking images and the awful facts of shattered lives are scattered behind these fast-moving funnels of destruction, leaving survivors and distant observers to wonder why.
If we believe, as we proclaim in the Nicene Creed, that God is, indeed, the creator of all things, visible and invisible, good and bad, then these deadly tornadoes were, like us, the creations of God. And though we might wonder why God ever created an evil person, the creation of such a destructive weather phenomenon seems among the most unfathomable of mysteries. The problem of evil has vexed theologians for ages. How can a loving God allow such tragedy and such evil to exist, even in an imperfect and sin-scarred world? This week, especially, as we see the images of the arbitrary destruction of powerful tornadoes that scrape away everything along their paths while leaving nearby structures unscathed, the creation of such destructive and tragic phenomena seem more like the work of whimsical Norse or Pagan gods than of the loving Judeo-Christian God.
As in any tragedy, it would be wrong and theologically flawed in the wake of these deadly storms to say, "It's God's will." The loving God of Scripture, willing to sacrifice his Son for the salvation of mankind, does not choose tragedy over life or grief over happiness. But even this understanding does not settle the question of why God created a world in which tornadoes, hurricanes, lightning and earthquakes shatter the lives of the people He loves.
I find some reassurance in the experience of the prophet Elijah, who stood at the mouth of a cave and witnessed the presence of God, not in the whirlwind but in a soft whisper:
"Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave."
—I Kings 19:11-13.
the Father, the Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen ..."
—The Nicene Creed
Why did God ever create tornadoes? That has to be on the minds of millions of people who have witnessed, even vicariously, the destruction left across Alabama and much of the South by this weeks' killer tornadoes. More than 200 people died senselessly as air masses collided into a roiling, rotating, whirling wind that hit puny man-made structures and towering trees with a power that seems unimaginably evil but that is, in fact, natural. America's heartland is where tornadoes are born, where warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico collides with cold, dry air from Canada, and the concentrated power of gentle winds unleash a destruction that rivals the combined power of the world's military arsenals. It is a scientific phenomenon that we have learned to study and predict. Heartbreaking images and the awful facts of shattered lives are scattered behind these fast-moving funnels of destruction, leaving survivors and distant observers to wonder why.
If we believe, as we proclaim in the Nicene Creed, that God is, indeed, the creator of all things, visible and invisible, good and bad, then these deadly tornadoes were, like us, the creations of God. And though we might wonder why God ever created an evil person, the creation of such a destructive weather phenomenon seems among the most unfathomable of mysteries. The problem of evil has vexed theologians for ages. How can a loving God allow such tragedy and such evil to exist, even in an imperfect and sin-scarred world? This week, especially, as we see the images of the arbitrary destruction of powerful tornadoes that scrape away everything along their paths while leaving nearby structures unscathed, the creation of such destructive and tragic phenomena seem more like the work of whimsical Norse or Pagan gods than of the loving Judeo-Christian God.
As in any tragedy, it would be wrong and theologically flawed in the wake of these deadly storms to say, "It's God's will." The loving God of Scripture, willing to sacrifice his Son for the salvation of mankind, does not choose tragedy over life or grief over happiness. But even this understanding does not settle the question of why God created a world in which tornadoes, hurricanes, lightning and earthquakes shatter the lives of the people He loves.
I find some reassurance in the experience of the prophet Elijah, who stood at the mouth of a cave and witnessed the presence of God, not in the whirlwind but in a soft whisper:
"Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. 12 After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. 13 When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave."
—I Kings 19:11-13.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
More tornadoes, more destruction
On April 16, North Carolina caught the onslaught of the worst series of tornadoes this state has see at least since 1984. Wilson was in the path of at least one tornado, which skipped along a northeasterly route destroying whole buildings, tossing vehicles like matchsticks and toppling dozens of trees. Other areas of North Carolina saw even worse destruction and a total of 22 deaths statewide.
Just as we are recovering from that storm, with trees and debris removed from roadsides and tarps stretched across damaged roofs, we learn of an even more destructive series of tornadoes that ripped apart portions of Alabama and other states. Anyone who has lived through a tornado has terrifying stories to tell. Since 1996, when I lay in bed as Hurricane Fran roared overhead through the September night, I have listened more acutely to the sounds of the wind and watched more closely the color of the sky. Nature's destructive force is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The post-disaster comment that "it looks like a war zone" is more of a commentary on the power of modern weaponry than a measurement of nature's power. Wartime bombardment photos and the aftermath of a tornado do have similarities, but nature's destructive force is often more widespread and unpredictable than any one conventional bomb.
Tornadoes seem to be occurring more frequently but probably are only getting more attention from the 24-hour news cycles and instantaneous communications of today. But whenever the wind blows and the sky darkens, I — and millions of others — will feel the unease in our gut.
Just as we are recovering from that storm, with trees and debris removed from roadsides and tarps stretched across damaged roofs, we learn of an even more destructive series of tornadoes that ripped apart portions of Alabama and other states. Anyone who has lived through a tornado has terrifying stories to tell. Since 1996, when I lay in bed as Hurricane Fran roared overhead through the September night, I have listened more acutely to the sounds of the wind and watched more closely the color of the sky. Nature's destructive force is both awe-inspiring and terrifying. The post-disaster comment that "it looks like a war zone" is more of a commentary on the power of modern weaponry than a measurement of nature's power. Wartime bombardment photos and the aftermath of a tornado do have similarities, but nature's destructive force is often more widespread and unpredictable than any one conventional bomb.
Tornadoes seem to be occurring more frequently but probably are only getting more attention from the 24-hour news cycles and instantaneous communications of today. But whenever the wind blows and the sky darkens, I — and millions of others — will feel the unease in our gut.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Tornadoes are another twist of fate
"I can replace my house, but I can't replace my babies."
Wilson and much of North Carolina has begun recovering from a cluster of tornadoes that killed 22 state residents Saturday, the deadliest storms to hit the state since 1984. Most of us, like the Bertie County resident quoted above, feel fortunate to be spared death or serious injury. The deadly winds hopscotched arbitrarily across neighborhoods and streets, ripping one house to shreds while sparing the one next door. Incidents such as these leave us seeking some rational explanation — Why was I spared but my neighbor wasn't? — when there is no rational explanation. It is the same quandary we face after an automobile accident — "If only she had left two minutes earlier or later ..." — or a fatal disease diagnosis — "Why me, Lord?" Some take comfort in blaming God — "It's God's will!" — but this explanation turns a God of love into a God of evil. No loving God prefers such suffering for his creation.
There is no explanation. Things happen. A simple misstep can prove fatal. A tornado can strike one home and not another. We want to "seize the day," but sometimes the day seizes us, and there is no reason and no escape. The only comfort is knowing that even in tragedy God's love prevails.
Saturday's tornadoes were quite different in one way from the 1984 tornadoes that killed dozens, including some in Greene County: These tornadoes have been chronicled in online postings of pictures and video. In 1984, when I sent a reporter to Snow Hill to report on the tornado damage, there were no cell phones, digital photos or hand-held video cameras. Our reporter was out of touch for hours until she finally found a working pay phone and called in her report, which had to be read over the phone and painstakingly transcribed. Photos would have to wait for another day when film could be processed in the darkroom. Saturday night and Sunday, I looked at scores of pictures online and several videos showing a tornado bearing down on Wilson. One effect of this change is that people who have been spared the destruction feel more closely connected to it. Perhaps that connection will help as we try to recover from these storms with their online presence.
—Bertie County tornado victim
Wilson and much of North Carolina has begun recovering from a cluster of tornadoes that killed 22 state residents Saturday, the deadliest storms to hit the state since 1984. Most of us, like the Bertie County resident quoted above, feel fortunate to be spared death or serious injury. The deadly winds hopscotched arbitrarily across neighborhoods and streets, ripping one house to shreds while sparing the one next door. Incidents such as these leave us seeking some rational explanation — Why was I spared but my neighbor wasn't? — when there is no rational explanation. It is the same quandary we face after an automobile accident — "If only she had left two minutes earlier or later ..." — or a fatal disease diagnosis — "Why me, Lord?" Some take comfort in blaming God — "It's God's will!" — but this explanation turns a God of love into a God of evil. No loving God prefers such suffering for his creation.
There is no explanation. Things happen. A simple misstep can prove fatal. A tornado can strike one home and not another. We want to "seize the day," but sometimes the day seizes us, and there is no reason and no escape. The only comfort is knowing that even in tragedy God's love prevails.
Saturday's tornadoes were quite different in one way from the 1984 tornadoes that killed dozens, including some in Greene County: These tornadoes have been chronicled in online postings of pictures and video. In 1984, when I sent a reporter to Snow Hill to report on the tornado damage, there were no cell phones, digital photos or hand-held video cameras. Our reporter was out of touch for hours until she finally found a working pay phone and called in her report, which had to be read over the phone and painstakingly transcribed. Photos would have to wait for another day when film could be processed in the darkroom. Saturday night and Sunday, I looked at scores of pictures online and several videos showing a tornado bearing down on Wilson. One effect of this change is that people who have been spared the destruction feel more closely connected to it. Perhaps that connection will help as we try to recover from these storms with their online presence.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Tornadoes put news crews to the test
Tornadoes touched down too close for comfort late Tuesday afternoon. National Weather Service warnings repeatedly interrupted the NPR news I was listening to with tornadoes sighted ominously close to my home. By the time the tornado watches and thunderstorm watches were lifted late at night, central Wilson had sustained no serious damage, but the area around Sims and Rock Ridge was really pummeled by the dangerous storms. 
WRAL has a slew of pictures (some of them duplicates, unfortunately) of storm damage (see above scene on Rock Ridge School Road in Wilson County) and funnel cloud sightings from eastern Wake County to Rocky Mount. It was a scary incident.
The storms gave Wilson's new morning paper a chance to show off, but, judging from the wilsontimes.com's Web site this morning, everyone was too busy bragging about the new design to remember to update the news. When I checked the Web site for tornado news this morning, I found only one local news story that had not been in the Tuesday print edition, and it had been posted on the Web site late Tuesday. A morning paper whose Web site is not updated? That's an innovation! Even though the time stamp says the page was updated this morning (8:03 a.m.), I don't see any evidence of it. Even the "tornado watch until midnight tonight" "breaking news" was still posted this morning. The photo gallery at wilsontimes.com would have been nice if the pictures had included captions (WRAL's pictures did). Without identifications, the pictures aren't worth much.
Design (or redesign) is just the packaging. You still need news to be a newspaper — or a newspaper Web site.
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