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copyright@2020 will maguire
The tornado, an ef3...160mph, tore thru my part of town then stayed on the ground for about 50 miles, heading east.
I woke at 1am to the sound of tornado sirens and hail pinging off the roof. The wind was starting to yell...threats...like it sometimes does in spring, but I checked and saw no trees down. At about that time the funnel touched down and began crawling thru my neighborhood.
Whole blocks of houses and businesses were leveled. Power is out over a wide area. My street however was spared.
As it moved east it mowed down several towns...towns that really no longer exist. Erased in large part.
In Oklahoma they sometimes call twisters the finger of God, as though he we're writing His name again and again in the dirt.
I doubt that. Not His signature. Seems like a forgery to me.
25 dead so far, including some very young. Toddlers. The wind doesn't really check IDs when it starts spinning up on itself. Left a lot of nevers.
And young nevers are the worst. First day of school never. Never held a hand or kissed a girl. Never walked down the aisle with your daddy's arm in yours.
There are many collapsed buildings and many missing, especially among the homeless...the least of those among you. So the death count is sure to rise.
I was touched once again by the character and the grace of the people that live here. Even before first light many were out among the shocked offering aid and food, comfort and a place to stay.
I have finally become convinced that generosity is a kind of immortality. And being near such selflessness both inspires and shames me.
I can feel the holler of it as it begins to echo, as it always does, for years. Generosity.
It will inevitably, I think, overwhelm those few moments of terror with it's longevity. Kindness always seems to.
But today the sun is out.
And the foundations, still intact, will be scraped free of the debris and something new will be built again.
I am a black hearted Irish guy. I have come to expect heartache. It's just the toll of living.
But, surrounded by all this dusty ruin and all these willing hands, today I remind myself that great things often start as trouble.
And that hope, as it always does, rises from it's own rubble.
WLM
copyright@2020 will maguire
The tornado, an ef3...160mph, tore thru my part of town then stayed on the ground for about 50 miles, heading east.
I woke at 1am to the sound of tornado sirens and hail pinging off the roof. The wind was starting to yell...threats...like it sometimes does in spring, but I checked and saw no trees down. At about that time the funnel touched down and began crawling thru my neighborhood.
Whole blocks of houses and businesses were leveled. Power is out over a wide area. My street however was spared.
As it moved east it mowed down several towns...towns that really no longer exist. Erased in large part.
In Oklahoma they sometimes call twisters the finger of God, as though he we're writing His name again and again in the dirt.
I doubt that. Not His signature. Seems like a forgery to me.
25 dead so far, including some very young. Toddlers. The wind doesn't really check IDs when it starts spinning up on itself. Left a lot of nevers.
And young nevers are the worst. First day of school never. Never held a hand or kissed a girl. Never walked down the aisle with your daddy's arm in yours.
There are many collapsed buildings and many missing, especially among the homeless...the least of those among you. So the death count is sure to rise.
I was touched once again by the character and the grace of the people that live here. Even before first light many were out among the shocked offering aid and food, comfort and a place to stay.
I have finally become convinced that generosity is a kind of immortality. And being near such selflessness both inspires and shames me.
I can feel the holler of it as it begins to echo, as it always does, for years. Generosity.
It will inevitably, I think, overwhelm those few moments of terror with it's longevity. Kindness always seems to.
But today the sun is out.
And the foundations, still intact, will be scraped free of the debris and something new will be built again.
I am a black hearted Irish guy. I have come to expect heartache. It's just the toll of living.
But, surrounded by all this dusty ruin and all these willing hands, today I remind myself that great things often start as trouble.
And that hope, as it always does, rises from it's own rubble.
WLM
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