Storms

I’m afraid of most things. I didn’t even like getting gas when I was younger. I think I was worried I’d do it wrong and get scolded by someone. Or I’d make an awful mistake and cause some sort of explosion. I’m not sure what I thought would happen, but I was nervous. Eventually, I realized that many people get gas (or fly in planes, go to the dentist, speak in public) and live through it. Nothing to be overly concerned about.

I grew up in the Midwest. Still live near there, though slightly south. So tornados have always been part of life. I only vaguely remember being afraid of them. Mom took me downstairs, showed me where I should come if there was ever a bad storm, and we left a couple of stuffed animals there. They would wait, she told me, so that I didn’t have to bring anything with me. I could just hurry (but carefully!) down the steps to our safe spot. And we would be fine.

When we moved, I remember asking where my new spot would be. The space under the stairs was empty, so we built a small fort down there. Left a pillow, blanket and the same stuffed animals to wait in case I needed to seek safety. I would check on it sometimes – make sure everything remained ready – but felt comfortable waiting upstairs during tornado warnings for the most part. Knowing that the damage is highly localized and that I likely had nothing to worry over.

Moving to grad school, there were always underground garages in my apartment buildings. I continued to ignore tornado warnings. Only after moving and watching the hail bounce cheerfully off the grass, smiling inside my sliding door after running for my camera, did I look out over the gently rolling hills and noticed a wall cloud. Impressed, I stood and watched it, heading for the basement only when Chienne started to whine. I’ve also seen funnel clouds – descending from angry skies, tails flipping wildly high above the ground. Mom was scared, I was awed. They’re just so powerful and rare – I felt pleased I had seen one.

Since buying this house and moving south, there have been many tornado alerts. I don’t take them all that seriously. But it bothers me that we don’t have basements! When people die? I wonder why they didn’t have a safe place – stuffed animals ready to provide comfort – and blame this rock that lies just under the top level of soil. In addition, there are impressive hills here. You can’t see very far in the distance, so the arrival of funnel clouds can be quite unexpected. I’m not used to this environment, so the first bad storm for me – last November, I think – found me huddled with the dog in my guest bathroom. It’s in the center of my all brick home, and the only room in the house without exterior walls or windows.

As warnings have come and gone, I’m less and less worried about the storms. After all, nothing that bad would happen to me, right? So I worked through the warnings last week, completely unconcerned with anything other than losing power. Then I realized I could work on my grant without internet access, so I shrugged and thought that even the loss of power wouldn’t be that bad. Then I slept through more warnings today, disturbed only by a large burst of thunder. I shuffled out to the kitchen, debated drink choices, and wandered to my love seat with water in one hand and diet Pepsi in the other.

I smiled over email from a couple of concerned friends – adoring them both for thinking of me and being more interested in the storms than I currently was. I told them I’d rather not lose power, but was otherwise fine. The line of storms spawning the tornados was quite large and I wasn't seeing anything all that dangeous near my house. Though my cable signal faltered twice, my power has remained steady. Not a big deal – I nodded along with the “alarmist media” comment by one friend.

But then I watched the news – noted the extreme destruction and deaths – people no longer around because of this storm that I napped through. I find myself saddened and horrified – unable to incorporate grief and loss into my view that these storms aren’t much to worry over. I think sometimes fear is healthy. So I’m listening to local television rather than the iPod, giving at least some of my attention to storm warnings and looking to see what color my county is on the little maps located at the corner of the screen.

It’s raining moderately hard, though I haven’t heard thunder for some time now. Doppler radar warns that another line of storms will arrive shortly, and I’m just slightly nervous. And perhaps that’s appropriate. Tomorrow I’ll find a way to donate money to my neighbors who truly have something to worry over. Tonight? Maybe I’ll end up in the guest bathroom again with the dog – to feel safe if nothing else.