Twice shy

I was living in Chapel Hill North Carolina when Hurricane Fran hit in 1996. I grew up in the Midwest. What did I know about hurricanes? I went to bed that night not having watched the news or stocked up on bread and toilet paper. I didn’t even have a flashlight. I went to bed upstairs in my rented townhouse surrounded by trees. My pickup truck was parked in the driveway under a big oak tree. I was smug in the belief that everything would be okay in the middle of the state.

I dreamed that night of howling beasts and having teeth pulled. The latter feature no doubt inspired by the sucking sound of trees being uprooted outside my window. People died that night in bed, having trees crash through their roofs.

I woke up to mass destruction the next morning. Uprooted trees were everywhere. Huge trees bigger around than my kitchen table were lying on their sides with a root ball exposed that was bigger than a car. The road outside my house was impassable, but there was no damage to my house or truck. I was fine.

I turned on the news then and was sickened by the damage done as the eye of the hurricane passed right over Chapel Hill. There was a boil order on water. Power was out in many places. There were no generators to be had. People, who could get out of their houses, made a run on the grocery stores and emptied shelves.

Again, I was lucky. I had power and enough food to last a while. I heard the sound of chain saws all over my neighborhood. Within hours I was able to drive down my street, if I needed to get out. 

I flushed the toilet in my downstairs powder room and it overflowed with raw sewage. I called my landlord and said, “You have a problem.” He told me to call Public Works. I did. They were overwhelmed with calls and told me to call 911.

I resisted. They insisted. I called.

Minutes later the fire truck sped down my street with sirens blaring. Three fireman dressed in rain gear and big boots showed up at my door. A half hour later the emergency was cleaned up, but they warned me not to finish the cleaning task without gloves and a mask. The HIV virus had been found in sewage there. I made another call to my landlord who dispatched his handyman to take care of the task.

Then I got in my truck and drove two hours west and checked in to a hotel where the toilet was functioning and I didn’t have to boil water. I took a long hot shower and had a prime rib dinner. I stayed there two nights and then returned home.

Home looked like a war zone. The beautiful campus of UNC was littered with century-old trees lying on their sides. It was several weeks before the debris was cleaned up.

Last Saturday night I just climbed into bed and the tornado sirens went off. I scrambled out and headed to the basement. I had to convince my husband to get off the front porch—where he was storm watching—and join me downstairs. We could see the trees whipping back and forth out the cellar windows like they were palm fronds. I found it hard to believe that they weren’t snapping. Then the power went out, preventing us from seeing anything but the lightning flashing around us and hearing the familiar roar of the wind.

Our internet didn’t work, of course, so we couldn’t check the radar. It’s a helpless feeling without information immediately available. It got quiet. My husband assured me that the storm had passed. I went back to bed and then the storm roared again. I’m pretty sure the “quiet” was the lull that accompanies a tornado.

Two tornados touched down AT THE SAME TIME just a few miles from us. There were six tornados in SE Wisconsin Saturday night. Families lost roofs, trees, siding, garages door imploded due to air pressure changes. Fortunately, no one was injured.

We lost a large limb from a mature tree. A neighbor was there the next day with his tractor to drag the limb to the curb. The village we live in was out in force today to clear debris, neighborhood by neighborhood.

Our weather forecast for tonight predicts severe storms (level 3 threat) during the night with high winds being the biggest threat. Listening to howling wind in the dark brings up bad images. I’m reminded of two things: 1) Mother Nature is in charge and 2) Unfortunately, I don’t have a landlord to call anymore if there are issues.