THIS HAPPENED TO ME

My Views of Tornados Changed After Experiencing One Firsthand

Tornado season is coming to the Midwest

I saw a robin today. Spring is coming to the Midwest. That means tornado season.

Growing up in Illinois, tornadoes are common. In grade school, we had drills often. At the sound of a siren, the teachers lined us up to sit in the hallway where we’d put our heads down until the drill was over.

The emergency telecommunications center sounds the tornado test siren on the first Tuesday of every month at 10 a.m. Over the years the sound had become routine. Hearing tornado warnings over the news to seek shelter occurred so frequently that I became desensitized.

That all changed on November 17, 2013.

Spring in November?

When I stepped onto my porch that Sunday morning, it was unusually warm for a winter day. I met my mom and stepdad for breakfast at a local diner. As we ate, the tornado siren sounded.

“What would we do if the tornado came here?” I asked. “Where would we take cover?”

“We could crawl underneath the tables,” Mom said.

We continued eating our breakfast, and 10 minutes later, my mom said nonchalantly, “There it is.”

I followed her gaze and looked out the window. Large glass windows lined the entire wall of the restaurant so I had a perfect view of a sight I had previously only witnessed on the news or in the movies.

A huge black swirling mass was making its way down the middle of the four-lane road. It was coming right toward us! Debris floated on the outer rim of the massive tornado which sounded like a train. It was surreal and the moment seemed to be happening in slow motion.

The lights blinked in the restaurant. The owner of the establishment told everyone to take shelter in the restrooms. I stood up and grabbed my cup of coffee. My work camera, which I always carried just in case, sat on the table. It didn’t occur to me to snap a picture because, in that split second, the instinct of survival overrode all else.

Still, I grabbed my cup of coffee as I headed to the restroom to hunker down. In the chaos, my parents and I were separated. They went to the men’s bathroom and I went to the women’s. There were about fifteen people in the bathroom with me. A young man hugged his girlfriend or wife while she wept. I sat on the floor with my coffee. Those drills in grade school were paying off. My body trembled and tears filled my eyes, but I wasn’t that frightened. Perhaps I was in shock or I didn’t realize the severity of the situation. I wasn’t thinking about the possibility of death, but it was very real.

Ten minutes later, we exited the restroom and my stepdad finished his breakfast. We were oblivious to what had just occurred throughout our city.

As we stepped into the parking lot, I saw pieces of wood on the ground. I figured it was debris from the tornado, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. Next, I noticed downed power lines in the parking lot. My eyes darted to the road, where I saw an entire gas station canopy covering two lanes of the road and a telephone pole blocking the other two lanes I needed to drive down to get home.

This is serious

The severity of the situation began to sink in.

Exiting the parking lot, I was forced to turn left due to the pole. I decided to cut through a neighborhood to take my parents home, not realizing that I was driving into the heart of the destruction left by the tornado moments earlier.

What we saw next looked like something from the movie Twister. This couldn’t be real life! My mom started to cry, and my stepdad started freaking out, wondering if their house and horses were okay. The scene was utter chaos.

I drove slowly because there was so much debris in the road that I had to constantly swerve to miss power lines and boards that once framed houses. I looked to my right and saw a woman standing in the doorway of her house but the roof was gone. Ahead I saw people walking down the street in a daze. One man carried a dog. A person approached my car and asked if the nursing home had been hit. I said I didn’t know.

Time to work

In 2013, I was a newsroom manager and my reporter instincts kicked in. I didn’t have time to cry, I had to work. I asked my mom to drive and I hopped into the passenger seat. I rolled down my window and began snapping as many photos as I could. A driver behind us began honking his horn impatiently. Seriously, dude? He drove around us, only to run into a telephone pole blocking his way a short distance ahead.

Looking over the landscape, all I could see was massive destruction. Homes were obliterated. Where a neighborhood once stood was now flat land. Orange insulation hung off of bare tree branches like cotton candy. Cars were upside down, like toys, not 4,000-pound hunks of metal.

I could not believe my eyes.

The five-minute journey to my parent’s home took us 45 minutes instead. Luckily, my parent’s home was spared, but hundreds of others were destroyed.

Going to work

Being a newspaper manager, I tried to text my reporters. It was difficult to contact anyone initially. Either a cell tower had been hit or everyone was trying to use their cell phones all at once, overloading the system.

Eventually, I reached my reporters, and my mom and I went back out to survey the aftermath. I parked at a car dealership and we walked across the lot. The dealership received heavy damage. The front of the business had large glass windows, which were now gone. Tiny shards of glass were scattered on the ground like diamonds. I winced as I looked inside and saw a collectible Cobra Mustang, now sitting askew with dings in the beautiful blue metal. The velvet red rope barricade around the car couldn’t protect it from the massive winds.

Next door, an Auto Zone was completely toppled to the ground and I wondered if the employees survived. By some miracle, I later learned they did. In a large parking lot nearby, we saw an overturned semi and smelled gas. We decided to leave the area immediately in case there was an explosion.

We drove to another town close by to get more photos and interview people. I felt like I was in a Dali painting. Along a country road, a home’s garage had been hit but tools still hung neatly on the wall.

After I interviewed a farmer and his wife who received damage to their home and shed, I noticed my car had a flat tire from driving over all the debris. The farmer and his neighbor helped change my tire. A second tire went flat later.

Back at the office, we were extremely busy. In my 24-year career, we never received so many phone calls as we did that day. People were devastated. They needed help. They didn’t know what to do. We were in contact with the Red Cross and other entities to try to get information out on our websites as fast as we could.

An F4 hit our town

We contacted the National Weather Service and learned the tornado was an F4 at 190 mph! An F5 is the most severe starting at 200 mph. The tornado left a path of destruction 46 miles long, destroyed 600 homes and businesses, and claimed the lives of three people. One victim, a man who did not make it to his shelter in time, was found in a tree. That was extremely disturbing and heartbreaking to hear. The other two victims died from injuries.

The following weeks were a mess in our little community but people sprung into action to help. There were also scammers taking advantage of the situation. These low-lifes drove around taking people’s belongings. My mom, boyfriend, and I went to help clean debris on a bitterly cold day.

The police sealed off the neighborhoods where major destruction occurred, but we parked at a business and walked down a hill to gain access. We wanted to help. We used a wheelbarrow to cart off debris. I took more photos to capture the absurd landscape. There was a car in a basement, a chimney with no house and cars flipped upside down. I found jewelry scattered in the yard and gave it to the homeowner.

It was astonishing to read reports that said personal items, such as driver’s licenses from our town, were found in a city three hours away!

The tornado was only a half mile from the restaurant where we ate breakfast. It gives me chills knowing we were so close. I now have a new perspective on tornados. I take them very seriously. If I hear a siren, I’m running for cover, with or without my coffee.

Thanks for reading my story! Thanks to Deb Groves Harman for the fantastic edits!