Country Folks Can Survive

At around 1300 on 16 April, Zeke cozied up on the couch to watch the Stanley Cup playoffs while I went to our bedroom and curled up with Liam for a little nap.  As I dozed in and out of consciousness, I noticed the audio of the game suddenly no longer spouted out the details of a charged up Power Play; our local meteorologist had the floor.  We knew the severe storms sweeping across the plains were on their way to us, but naps and hockey are about as high on the priority list as you can get, and we weren’t going to be fazed.  Zeke poked his head in to let me know there were four tornado warnings in our region; I asked him if we should head for the closet, bathroom, or laundry, and he said not to worry just yet.  

I continued to toe the line between Here and Dreamland for a few moments longer when the wind picked up and the room darkened considerably.  I collected Liam (who, mind you, remained blissfully oblivious to the outside world, still being in Mama’s Arms) and planted ourselves on the couch with Zeke to watch developments.  Tornado warnings in Lee County for the next two hours.  Widespread high winds, rain, hail, and debris expected.  Seek shelter immediately.  Within a few minutes, our power was out.  Then a blinding flash of lightning with a BOOM on its heels.  Still for some reason unconcerned, we sat down to a late lunch and watched the rain come in.  And while the thanatos in me wishes I could share some first-hand horror story with you, I’m so thankful that I can say we had nothing more than a typical rainstorm in our yard.  The rain came fast and hard, but no more severe than a regular afternoon storm (as Zeke said to me, it rained yesterday as hard as it did on Tornado Day).

The storm passed and the silence of our home was pleasant but deafening in its own right.  You never realize just how much noise you’re willing to live with until the buzz and hum of appliances and technology no longer operate in your space.

While all we missed out on was the luxury of electricity, others within moments of our house lost clean water, shelter, clothing, the sentimental mementos by which we define ourselves.  

And across the state of North Carolina, the current toll is a tragic loss of 24 lives.  As Liam and I walked through the Wal-Mart parking lot a few days ago, a little boy looked at him and me and then up to his dad, and he said as he tugged on his dad’s sleeve, “Daddy, did you hear there was a little baby that was taken from his Grandpa’s arms?  That the tornado just took him away?  His Grandpa couldn’t do nuthin’ about it, he just cried.”  I learned that a local business here in Sanford was missing two of its large metal signs – signs which were recently recovered between 35 and 50 miles north in Cary and Raleigh.  Our letter carrier Beverly lost much of her home and belongings and her cousin lost everything.  They’ve been searching for whatever lost clothing they can find in the woods behind where their homes used to be.  And to make matters worse, Beverly said folks are now looting the damaged areas, stealing whatever isn’t nailed down.  As if the people devastated by the storm hadn’t already been hurt enough.

Liam and I drove through Sanford the other day to capture some pictures and video to be able to share with you what our community has experienced.  It’s one thing to hear or read about something like this kind of natural disaster; it’s another to see it.  If you feel like donating to any organizations this year, I can vouch for the American Red Cross and Salvation Army, whose mobile units were stationed in local parking lots this week handing out necessities to anyone who requested them.  Donations are always appreciated and accepted, and help is always needed.

Footage of damage on Horner Blvd., including the destroyed Lowe's Home Improvement Store in Sanford:

My heart goes out to all those hurt by the storms.  But my spirits were lifted on our drive as I saw homeowners, young and old, out in their yards, clearing the debris and trying to reclaim their homesteads.  I watched an elderly woman gently brush off her rose bushes – a beautiful, elegant burst of color amidst a yard of sheer wreckage.  A few blocks down, a young woman was blowing small branches and scraps of drywall out of her driveway, and I watched as she walked over to the next yard without a second thought to perform the same services for her neighbor unaware. 

’Cause you can’t starve us out and you can’t make us run . . . 

Country folks can survive. 

~good ole’ Hank Williams, Jr.