The Tornado Story

I was staying with my cousins Bill (called Billy at the time) and Mark on the farm in Bellwood, Nebraska (a farming community midway between David City and Columbus). I was 8 or 9, I suppose, Mark just 9 months older, and Billy, 2 years older than Mark. Billy was the ringleader and often led us astray; that’s my story and Mark would’ve backed me up.

The three of us were outside playing one afternoon when Billy stood up and stared off at the black bank of clouds approaching from the west. “There’s going to be a tornado,” he declared. “We better dig a tornado shelter.” A fact that I often omit when telling this story is that the farmhouse actually had a storm/fruit cellar over on the east side of the house. But hey, seemed like a good idea.

We had a shovel with a broken handle, a tablespoon from the kitchen, and a stick. We commenced digging. We made pretty good progress too. Probably had a hole 2-2 1/2’ in diameter, and about the same in depth, when we were called in for supper. We didn’t go back outside.

We slept upstairs in the farmhouse. We’d lay in bed and talk, for a long time. I guess we fell asleep.

That night a big thunderstorm hit. Heavy rain, lightning, thunder, and high winds. As I later learned, the wind tore the roof of the corn crib loose, and it was flapping out there, threatening to be torn off completely. Uncle Bill went out in the storm to see if he could fasten down lid of the crib. And stepped in our hole, by this time filled with water.

We were probably already awake from the storm, but we were for sure awake when the kitchen door slammed shut.
“Those G_ddamned kids!” We heard him yell from downstairs.

“Oh Bill, the kids are asleep,” said blessed Aunt Joan.

Oh yeah, we were. We weren’t even breathing.

Aunt Joan got him calmed down and he never came upstairs.

“We’re sure glad you’re here, Tommy.” Billy whispered to me.

L-R: Mark, Billy, Dick (younger brother), and me. I think that's my sister in the "Taylor Tot" in front of us, and I have no idea why I remember the name of that stroller. We might have been a little bit older when the Tornado Story occurred.

The next photo is Uncle Bill. He would have been younger then.

Great story, thanks!

My tornado story: Monday May 3, 1999, we had awful tornados in Oklahoma as well as the surrounding States.

This story is about Big John and his Harley, but first a little background.

I had just started a new job and was off that day. Moore Oklahoma, a part of the OKC metro area, between OKC and Norman, got hit with a HUGE F5 tornado, wind speeds were in excess of 301 MPH. Many deaths, humongous financial costs of all the damages. Certain parts of Moore were unidentifiable, entire neighborhoods of homes and cars etc were blown away, and I mean blown away. The tornado even blew away entire streets, the asphalt blown away, signs gone, you'd have to know where you were to know where you were. Live local tv news showed horrible pics of dead people with 2x4's impaled into them, in the back of pickup trucks trying to get them to the hospital. Cows and horses landing dead at random here and there. Just awful. I've never seen those videos again, they were broadcast live then, they were just too gruesome to show again.

Having said all that, my new employer was in the Moore area, near the GM Plant. We had some of our trailers blown away, never to be found, these are 18-wheeler trailers used to haul GM parts into the plant, our drivers went all over including Canada to pickup GM parts and bring back.

Our building was destroyed. Gone. Rental trailers like the double wide things were brought in a few days later so we could have a place to operate our jobs. I don't know what they're called, but they make a pretty good temporary office, have bathrooms, heat and air, etc.

As I said, our building was demolished. Gone.

This story is really about Big John and his Harley. Big John Baumgarner, one of our drivers, had parked his nice pretty red Harley on the sidewalk just a few feet from our building.

It was NOT even scratched, or blown over. Totally weird and unbelievable. Somewhere I still have that pic, among others. Employee automobiles were destroyed and piled on top of each other in the parking lot and scattered around the area. Piles of rubble all around a darn Red Harley that is unscratched.

Big John came in later, and said God must love a Harley rider, mine is not even scratched.

Big John was killed in an accident riding that Harley a few years later. RIP Buddy, you were a good man.
.

Great story! Thanks for sharing.

Both of those stories were great!

I was nine and we were camping for the weekend at Sandy Beach on the coralville Reservoir in eastern Iowa.

Dad and I had set lines on the lake, it was 3:30 p.m. and we took the 14 foot aluminum Jon boat out to run them for supper fish.

We got seven fish on the first three lines and was headed to the fourth.

Then the sky turned golden yellow,
Not a good sign in the north end of tornado alley.

The slight afternoon breeze turned to dead calm,
It was two miles back to camp and my gut feeling wasn't good

For the first time in my life dad asked what we should do,
( I about fell over)

I said head for that cove across the lake .

He started the 6 h.p. Merc up and off we went it was less than a quarter mile as the lake level was a foot low.

As soon as we got to the shore in the cove we both turned to see the sky turn black and block out a lot of sun.

I mean it was extremely concerning.

We saw the tornado heading towards the lake from a mile away, full of top soil .

In four minutes it was only a half mile up the lake from us.

Just then it was if someone hit a light switch.

The tail whipped around and hit the lake surface filling the air with water and just like that it got very bright from the sun amplifying off the water in the air.

a spectacular event ,indeed.

We ran the last line and went to camp , it was fine just fine.

10 catfish fed seven campers ,
The only time we said grace all summer.

quote:

Originally posted by TMats:
The Tornado Story

I was staying with my cousins Bill (called Billy at the time) and Mark on the farm in Bellwood, Nebraska (a farming community midway between David City and Columbus). I was 8 or 9, I suppose, Mark just 9 months older, and Billy, 2 years older than Mark. Billy was the ringleader and often led us astray; that’s my story and Mark would’ve backed me up.

The three of us were outside playing one afternoon when Billy stood up and stared off at the black bank of clouds approaching from the west. “There’s going to be a tornado,” he declared. “We better dig a tornado shelter.” A fact that I often omit when telling this story is that the farmhouse actually had a storm/fruit cellar over on the east side of the house. But hey, seemed like a good idea.

We had a shovel with a broken handle, a tablespoon from the kitchen, and a stick. We commenced digging. We made pretty good progress too. Probably had a hole 2-2 1/2’ in diameter, and about the same in depth, when we were called in for supper. We didn’t go back outside.

We slept upstairs in the farmhouse. We’d lay in bed and talk, for a long time. I guess we fell asleep.

That night a big thunderstorm hit. Heavy rain, lightning, thunder, and high winds. As I later learned, the wind tore the roof of the corn crib loose, and it was flapping out there, threatening to be torn off completely. Uncle Bill went out in the storm to see if he could fasten down lid of the crib. And stepped in our hole, by this time filled with water.

We were probably already awake from the storm, but we were for sure awake when the kitchen door slammed shut.
“Those G_ddamned kids!” We heard him yell from downstairs.

“Oh Bill, the kids are asleep,” said blessed Aunt Joan.

Oh yeah, we were. We weren’t even breathing.

Aunt Joan got him calmed down and he never came upstairs.

“We’re sure glad you’re here, Tommy.” Billy whispered to me.

L-R: Mark, Billy, Dick (younger brother), and me. I think that's my sister in the "Taylor Tot" in front of us, and I have no idea why I remember the name of that stroller. We might have been a little bit older when the Tornado Story occurred.

The next photo is Uncle Bill. He would have been younger then.

Uncle Bill had it right. Those boys look like trouble to me! Great story. Aunt Joan is a priceless savior.