The Finger of God
The tornado warning sirens began wailing in my hometown of Streator, Illinois, around 8:30 pm local time. The National Weather Service had a report of a tornado on the ground in southeastern Putnam County in central Illinois, and it was moving into LaSalle County, aiming dead on for the southern part of town.
My part of town. I live on South 12th Street in Streator, about a block from Route 23, and as the tornado hopped, skipped, and jumped across the farmers’ fields and the occasional unfortunate corn crib that happened to get in its path, it eventually settled itself on to North 12th Road and made a beeline straight for my house. (Note: 12th Street becomes 12th Road on the north side of Route 23.) It was less than three miles away at this point, and at 8:52 pm, while I was reading the warning on the Weather Channel telling me to take cover, the lights went out.
The previous half-hour, it had been raining very hard with frequent lightning flashes and thunderclaps, but until the beast ate the lights, it seemed just another fairly strong Midwestern storm. In the heartland, tornado warnings and watches are a fact of life during the summer and I had lived through many tornado warnings in the past. Previously, the twister had either dissipated before it posed a threat to me, or it passed by far enough away that all we got for our angst was a big blow.
Not this time. As soon as the lights went out, the wind, which had been strong but not very intimidating, began to “come up.” That’s a nautical way to put it, because out on the open ocean the intensity of the wind builds and builds until you don’t think it can get any stronger — except it does. And then it gets stronger still.
The flat, open prairie upon which Streator sits has no hills to deflect the wind, so the tornado force gale that began to blow through my neighborhood reached us raw and untamed. It was here that incredible luck befell me. The monster — categorized by the National Weather Service as an EF2 (on a scale of 5) veered off North 12th Road and entered the southern part of Streator near East Ninth Road.
What vagaries of weather and atmosphere caused the tornado to spare me while tearing up my neighbors’ houses less than three blocks from where I live? You have probably heard tornadoes referred to as “the finger of God.” That’s a misnomer. A more accurate appellation is “the finger of Fate.” God, in his infinite mercy, would not visit such terror and tragedy on his children. Rather, as put perfectly by Helen Hunt’s character Jo Harding in Twister: “You’ve never seen it miss this house, miss that house, and come after you!”
And that’s the way of fate. A small, insignificant change in air pressure, or perhaps it was the contour of the land, or maybe it was something the beast ate that caused it to careen drunkenly away from South 12th Street and slam into my neighbors’ homes a couple of hundred yards away.
Two decades ago, there almost certainly would have been fatalities in Streator. Back then, we were lucky to get five minutes of warning. Now, with our new understanding of tornadoes — how they form, what feeds them, Doppler radar images, and an idea of their path of destruction — precious minutes of warning are granted those in the path of these killers. While 17 of my neighbors were injured, there were no serious injuries and no deaths.
The twister tore through the southern part of town, wreaking a path of destruction 400 yards wide. It didn’t sound like a freight train — the usual description you read in the newspapers. Freight trains don’t roar like a wild beast and beat holy hell against your windows seeking to get in. The rattling, clacking, and shaking of my brick house was augmented by the rending, tearing sounds of tree limbs snapping, the popping of transformers (sounding just like old-fashioned flash bulbs exploding), and a strange, terrifying high-pitched whine that made it sound as if all the furies in the world had been unleashed and were circling my home in anticipation of its destruction.
Then, a huge cracking sound and a thump. Half our elm tree in the backyard had split and fallen lengthwise across the lawn, brushing against the sliding doors in the dining room. Another couple of feet and it would have crashed through. Then there was another tremendous ripping noise followed by a crash as a section of our fence tore away and smashed into the AC unit.
I’m glad you survived. It was good luck you DID survive, given the childishness in which you handled your own situation. Too bad you don’t have a grup to manage you during a crisis.
I have sat out many near misses. The whole situation starts with feeling the weather without listening to media. A 12$ weather radio with alarm handles sleep situations. Once you turn on the radio/local TV for verification you should already be moving to shelter. Every time we had to chase down the cats, get them to the cat carriers in the basement under the stairs, and do a family nose count down there. We could get it done in around 2 minutes taking our time; the carriers are already down there, no garbage in the way, and everyone knows where they are supposed to be.
Hopefully people who read your story will realize a little respect for their own lives goes a long way.
Rick Moran left out the part I expected to hear from him. How Bush’s policies caused the tornado and Bush directly tried to destroy him and his family.
kidding. sort of.
An excellent account Mr. Moran and a cautionary tale and yes, thank God for the advanced weather reporting we have these days. You mention vagaries of weather and atmosphere. Most of us don’t realize that tornadoes are controlled by forces even greater than they are, many of which are maybe a hundred or even a thousand miles away and are constantly changing. I live on the Southern High Plains and where ever the dry line happens to set up can be a determiner as to whether tornadoes and severe storms happen in my area or 10 miles east of me. Weather is a strange and wonderful phenomenon.
Hm. There still is such a thing as a well-told story. Good job!
What, you mean Moran is experiencing others, including bureaucrats “at work”?
Please tell me you’re kidding. Based on Moran’s moronic piece about the near-perfect baseball game, I figured Moran would be out there taking care of everything BY HIMSELF.
Just kidding.
Sort of.
I grew up in Kansas and have lived in the Midwest or Texas all of my life. I am relieved to hear that everyone in Mr. Moran’s community survived.
That being said, having lived through many similar scenarios myself, I would have to say: “grow a pair of balls”. You had a basement. Go there. Cover yourself as best as possible to shield yourself from debris. Hunker down. Then, when it’s over, get up and deal with it. I am not familiar with Mr. Moran’s political views. However, from some of the earlier comments, I gather he’s a big government liberal. Figures. Maybe we should pass some laws to force people to get into their basements when a tornado hits? Mr. Moran would then be in violation and should be fined or jailed, I would think. Big government types think the world should be a safe place. It isn’t. Their whole mindset is that one should never be in any danger. They believe we can outlaw danger. That is why they stand at the top of their basement stairs, stupidly staring at a potentially deadly situation instead of calmly taking cover. It’s inconceivable to them that there could be danger that the government cannot outlaw or somehow remedy. Remind me (again) never to get caught in a dangerous situation with Mr. Moran or his ilk. I’d rather be with some Midwest libertarians who can take care of themselves and others in a crisis.
You are, I suppose,generous. Perhaps Big Government advocates really want Control, for the sake of money and status; and Power, because it makes them feel safe even though they tend to be wimpy noodniks. Perhaps they hate mankind, and want to deprive as many as possible of personal freedom. Perhaps megalomania motivates some. Having deified themselves they are now fit to order the world to their tastes. And when they reality test their alleged divinity the necessary results drive them to dope and drink. After all, since one cannot be God in the real world, why not at least pretend to be God,(Oprah, Shirley),in a fantasy world of one’s own making. And then, for eternity, pretend to be in Heaven.
Armando Galaraga would have know what to do. When the sirens go off in my neighborhood, I grab the dogs and head to the basement. Not stand weak-legged.
We were hit by 100 MPH straight line winds 8 years ago which we called Hurricane Elvis. Our house had two very large trees hit it. we had no warning other than our dog showing extreme nervousness and hearing leaves and twigs hit the side of the house making a noise we had never heard.
I went to get the boys out of their beds and downstairs, 30 seconds later the trees hit the house with a 18 inch wide limb missing one of the boys beds by 24 inches. God was with us that day. He is finishing his air traffic controller training this month and I am sure will do something great someday as one of the reasons he was spared.
God is mad at you for writing really silly stuff lately.
Unbecoming flippancy! Borderline blasphemy. Continue to flip off God and you will really come to regret it. Flip me off, instead. I can just ignore you as I am not compelled to administer perfect justice on an eternal basis.
Dear enforcement of virtue policeman, please don’t be angry with God because he gave me a sense of humor and left you wanting one so badly. Also, I suggest you read up about humility – the idea that you speak for God, or that God needs twerps like you for defense is extremely creepy and ludicrous in turns.
Rick, God is also infinitely just; thus the Cross and Hell.
Have you forgotten Noah and the Flood? Only eight of all living persons survived. Of course they were not “His children” in the spiritual sense, since they would not obey Him; Mt.12.46-50.
In the Exodus over a million Israelites fled Egypt, but complained and disobeyed until God barred all but two of the original group from entering the Promised Land.
And, scripture defines the “finger of God” as the Holy Spirit.
The word that is usually translated as thousand, can also be translated to mean family group. The number might have been 600,000, or it could have been as small as 50 to 100 thousand.
all of which estimates would still invalidate Moran’s point.
Truly excellent, Sir, truly excellent.
And since the folks around here say that you are a liberal, I will add: truly excellent.
And God suffers for all our sufferings with the perfection of God’s Love, i.e. infinitely.
I think you might be interested in some of the articles about the so-called “problem of evil” I published on my blog.
But that sentence is truly excellent.
And excellent prose either.
One “takes it” that you are not a Christian. Lets dialogue?
Seen your answer too late…. when I gotta go.
Have a look at my blog, please.
“Not Christian” ? A truly problematic sentence.
I am not the kind of person who says easily that God is command…after Auschwitz.
God is in command, but not in the sense that a debate reduced to a media level can express.
That’s why I appreciate that sentence from the column above, it avoids the usual mistake of forgetting the true meaning of Jesus Christ on the Cross.
And this discussion would take us far….
Thank you for the kind approach.
On the blog there is an e-mail if you want to discuss.
Have a nice day.
I am typing very fast because I gotta go,
NOT REVIEWED FOR SPELLING…
PS: And, Rick, if you don’t believe in Providential Intervention, you should never pray for anyone or yourself and you should throw away your bible because it often assures you that God proactively intervenes in human affairs.
We had a football coach, Ed Moran, who taught hundreds of young men to always do their best; to be right and keep acomin’; to prepare diligently; to seek the Kingdom of God first; to love the Lord. Morans are great people!
When a tornado hit my urban neighborhood without warning (read: the siren went off afterward) last August, I sure as hell wasn’t “mesmerized” and “too terrified to move to safety.” I was alone in the house with my three children, and you bet your butt we were in the basement in time.
Speak for yourself when you say “clear thinking isn’t possible.” Oh wait, you were.
Hey, it’s perfectly true that reasonable people can get paralyzed. That’s why reasonable people hold tornado drills, and occasionally take the opportunity during good weather to think of a preparedness plan for bad weather. That way, you’re less likely to freeze. Heck, if you’re down in the basement before the tornado comes, you won’t have a chance to freeze up like that (except in relative safety down there).
So the gentleman got caught out. Next time, he’ll be prepared. I’m glad his lesson wasn’t harsher. As the folks in Xenia know, tornado paranoia is your friend.
Another testimonial here that clear thinking IS possible. On 2 occasions in the last 7 years, home alone while DH was at work, I watched the sky, watched the weather crawl notices on the TV and went to the most protected area of the basement (under the stairs) with a laundry basket filled with things like a flashlight,a gallon of water, peanut butter and bananas (in case I was trapped for a time afterward–we live far out in the country), a blanket and pillow, a cell phone, the phone number for State Farm and the dog. We’ve suffered severe damage a couple of times, but never a direct hit. If we had, I would have been in the basement in the most protected area of the house…with a phone and a gallon of water.
Of course clear thinking is possible. It’s just not automatic.
Everyone reacts differently to terror.
The toughest looking, 300lb, 6’4″ body-builder in a platoon might run screaming and crying when the bullets fly while the 5″, 100lb, girl stands her ground and is found dead – still holding her knife jammed in the belly of the last of dozens of dead enemy soldiers she brought down alone.
Don’t say what you would do in a bad spot unless you’ve already done it.
There isn’t a much more terrifying sound on earth than the soul-eating scream of a tornado at point-blank range…
…except when the only warning you get is hearing that terrible sound when it has come in the middle of the night.
Trust me.
Wayne,
I’m not claiming to be a hero or the most macho guy on Earth or anything else. But, I’m sorry, Mr. Moran was just being stupid. I HAVE faced that situation, more than once. I know how I react. I protect my loved ones first then myself. It isn’t even that hard. You look at the situation…. you wanna crap your pants because you’re scared….. you don’t. You get yourself together and do what needs to be done.
Nerdy
Reading the report, I was struck by the honest deference in the referrals to “the Weather Service” — the tacit admission that the writer trusts the Weather Service and feels no inhibitions about quoting them as being the end-all in facts. Once upon a time, the 6:00 news and morning newspaper held similar places of reverence in our lives — that you would mention Uncle Walter and what he said in the sure and simple faith that it was a true thing, every bit as much as the Weather Service reporting the winds were 100 MPH and that the incident lasted only three minutes. I wonder if the news professionals can ever get back the trust they have squandered, or alternatively, when we can expect the Weather Service to give us more PC stories about Katrina being Bush’s fault.
Extended warning is a wonderful thing, but during that same storm system, Pembroke Township/Hopkins Park, in nearby Kankakee County got NO warning. Thankfully, no death or serious injuries were reported, although several homes were destroyed.
Hopkins Park has no tornado sirens — leaving over 2,700 people who live in a 52 sq. mile area at risk. The poverty in that area is astounding — Oprah did a show on it, only 60 miles or so south of Chicago.
I’ve never been in or even near a tornado. But in my 24 years in the Navy I’ve been in a number of pretty fierce storms, although it is generally the policy of the Navy to divert around strong storms when possible. The worst was in the Gulf of Mexico when the ship I was on ran through a Hurricane. I will attest to the power of nature, when you thought the wind and the seas could not possibly get stronger or higher you’d spot a wave coming at you that defied description. I was on the bridge of a cruiser, about 30 or 40 feet above the waterline when the wave broke over the ship, breaking windows on the bridge and throwing everyone about like rag dolls. The bow of the ship dropped down, under the water and then majestically rose up, white and green water foaming and pouring off the upper decks. It was like something you might see on an old “Victory at Sea” flick. We were able to recover from the roll but it was a close thing. I’ve learned to respect the power of nature.