****I've spent the last hour and a half trying to figure out how to hot spot my phone so I can finally post these paragraphs. I am not the first to experience this, nor will I be the last, but I thought it important, if even just for myself, to get it written down somewhere. My internet is still non-existent here at home. We are one of the ‘lucky’ 1,000 Spectrum residential and 12 businesses still without. Yay. No idea when we'll be back online. I can once in a while eek out just enough for FB, can make a call, or send texts using cell data. Later at night my cell data is enough to check the DIS. Needless to say, posting or even reading isn't in the cards. I am on call tomorrow and plan to take my laptop to read during any downtime I get. I hope this season finds you in merry and bright circumstances!! We are blessed!****
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21 minutes.
Tornado sirens screeching in competition against the wind and driving rain, the Emergency Broadcast System pleaded with us to “Seek shelter NOW! An active tornado has touched down in Warren County and will reach your destination in 21 minutes. Take cover…..”
21 minutes is experienced in such vastly different ways depending on the circumstances. Standing in any given queue at Disney World can last what feels like a lifetime; 21 minutes when trying to find your keys, grab your coat, start the car, and find a safe place flashes by like the lightning of a storm-filled sky. Racing through the empty streets at 12:45AM and running red lights just to make it safely to anywhere is something very few face in this lifetime. During normal business hours many would head for the local mall. These raging, swirling demons struck in the dead of night when few places would have unlocked doors. We screeched into the parking spot of the closest hospital along with a couple of dozen others who were also seeking shelter and packed into the Emergency Department Waiting Room along with terrified pets in our arms.
Most were glued to phones for an update of any kind, and the atmosphere was as somber as the news we feared might face us. The staff was visibly stretched thin with trying to care for the patients already there for various ailments, anticipating the worst with what the unknown situation outside would bring, and accommodating those of us trying to stay safe. A community in crisis tends to pull together; strangers tend to care in ways above and beyond. Blankets and water bottles meant the world in those tense-filled, quiet moments.
Minutes turned into hours and after a time a nurse came out telling us the warning had turned into a watch- the lesser of the two. Although the storms were predicted to last through the night, the immediate danger had passed. Gathering our things, we headed towards the front entrance eager to find the comfort of our own beds despite the angst of what possible calamity may or may not have befallen our community. The covered hospital entrance was filled with cars who’d pulled up after us. One harbored a gentleman who told us the Cardinal Motel’s roof had partially come off and his brother was in it.
“Is he okay?!”
“I don’t know. I think they’re bringing him here by ambulance.”
With that, we turned around and headed back in to wait a little longer not knowing if it was “just” isolated wind damage or something far worse. With the entire city in blackout conditions and the sky ablaze with almost continuous lightning we played it safe. With the rain coming in sideways sheets and noticing the roof of the hospital leaking, we knew it would be a long night ahead.
Finally, around 2:30, along with most of the others who’d found refuge in the hospital, we trickled out not sure what might be found. We found out later our doppler towers were folded in half at the airport, so no new radars or weather updates were available. The skies would be our only clue. I have found very little more disorienting in my lifetime than the short drive home. With the sky still ablaze with frequent lightning, my folks, who’ve lived here for over 10 years, made at least 2 wrong turns in the inky blackness eventually arriving at the equally unlit dark, but still standing, house.
Not knowing the extent of the human tragedy so nearby, with terrifying weather still raging around us, we each went our separate ways to try to find rest as we could. Fits of sleep were interrupted by the blaring of emergency vehicles responding to some unknown situations we could only make vague guesses about. On edge, we waited for the tornado sirens to again sound the alarm, but in the end as the storms passed over and died down, we eventually found some much needed sleep.
The next morning, with no power, internet, or phone, we headed to breakfast. So were what looked like 90% of the rest of the city’s inhabitants. McDonald’s drive-through line was 3 blocks long. We tried several other places, Waffle House, Cracker Barrel, and ended up at IHOP. Bowling Green is a relatively small and still tightknit community, and it was not surprising that an acquaintance of Mom and Dad’s was there. The invitation to join us was eagerly accepted and news of the unfolding human tragedy, the scope of suffering, would soon be discovered and shared around the table. Miraculously, we had some, albeit slow, cell service and could send and receive messages from loved ones, friends, and family saying we were safe. Many would not receive those messages. (Death toll stands at 17 in just Bowling Green as of today.) We would find out over pancakes and bacon that hundreds of homes had been completely destroyed in neighborhoods all over town as the hissing, roaring monster skipped and snaked its way straight through the center of Bowling Green indiscriminately. It didn’t take long to map its sinister path and to realize our own neighborhood was missed by a mere half a mile on either side of us. It took about 21 seconds to change so many lives forever.
21 seconds.
As of today, I have heard dozens of the most horrific stories from those who treated the injured at my workplace. The ER at the hospital I’d just left an hour before the twister hit was filled with unimaginable wounds. From the news, and because much has been made public now, you may know that 2 entire families, parents along with their young children, perished. In all, at the time of this writing, the tornado took 12 precious lives (17 now). Many others were treated for broken bones, glass injuries, crush injuries. Some injuries cannot be seen but will remain with those in its path for the rest of their lives. Perhaps anxiety, fear, trauma… The hospital helipad was double-stacked the entire day evacuating people out to Nashville; there were just too many for our resources.
Since the storm I have driven through several of the worst hit neighborhoods on the way to work. One simply cannot imagine or understand the devastation that is here without seeing it with their own eyes. Video and photos on the news just cannot convey this level of decimation. Nor can one know the level of collective altruism, cooperation, and charity until deep tragedy and grief happens. I have never been prouder of the place I live for how genuine love and concern have been shown. Practical help from so many agencies, churches, individuals, businesses have come in ways that will make a difference in broken lives. It will take many long months of hard work to rebuild homes and for people to get back on their feet. Businesses that are no longer standing have put people out of work as well. The needs are just so great. Perhaps for some things it will take 21 weeks to find some recovery and normalcy. For many other things it may very well take 21 months.
And for still others perhaps 21 years.