When tornadoes skipped across the Dallas-Fort Worth Metro earlier this week, I was glued to the coverage. Not only because I’m a meteorologist, but it’s hard to imagine the intensity of a tornado. Sure, we’re familiar with their aftermath; often, after a tornado I’m assigned to cover the damage. It always feels like I’m encountering the same footsteps and fingerprints as a villian or an archrival. It’s hard to cover tornadoes and their aftermath without being emotional. These are people’s lives that have been changed forever.
After May 3rd, 1999 when an F5 twister leveled Moore, Oklahoma, my wife and I had the privilidge to help an older lady pick up some of the pieces left in her demolished home. Insulation sat where her living room once was located. All of the exterior walls were gone but above a broken peice of drywall you could still see the large cross from the Baptist church of Moore which had become the headquarters for media, relief, and law enforcement. Across the the street sat a military humvee to guard off looters. And in the broken livingroom with someone’s grandma we heard the story of an encounter with an F5.
She took shelter from the storm with her yorkie in a small closet which was attached to the garage. The closet, or what was left, was leaning at about a 45 degree angle. She was surprised she was alive, and so were we. Fifty people were killed in the outbreak which spawned 140 tornadoes in 3 days. We spent the afternoon sorting through the drywall and fiberglass insulation to look for her “glass trinkets”. Her home was destroyed. Not much was left, but she really wanted to find her glass collectables she had accumulated over the years. So we lifted up 2×4’s and swept aside broken glass. One by one we placed her collectibles in an empty shoebox. Each one, no doubt telling a story of it’s own about a different stage in her life. She was so thankful for such a small task. We left Oklahoma sunburned, heartbroken, and with a little bit more head knowledge of how fast it can all end. I often think of her when I’m covering tornadoes at work.
Fast forward to 2012. I’m sitting in the weather center watching news coverage from central Texas. A tornado is barrelling across I20 in SE Dallas and semi truck trailers are being lofted hundreds of feet in the air. I don’t care how much you know about tornadoes or thermodynamic energy, there’s something about semi’s flying into the air that just “isn’t right”. The first thing that crossed my mind was the scene in Twister where the truck came flying around a funnel. But that’s a movie, right? A quick Google search shows the average weight of an empty semi trailer is anywhere from 13-15,000 pounds. The twister was given a preliminary rating of only an EF3 with winds of only around 110mph to 135mph.
Which made me think of my Moore, Oklahoma story; one that has been with me for years. That tornado measured the highest winds ever recorded on Earth of 318mph. Nearly 3 TIMES as strong as the semi tossing twister. (The Doppler On Wheels near the tornado measured the wind speed). If Lancaster, Texas saw damage this bad how much worse would it have looked from from an aerial perspective of Joplin, or Birmingham, or Greensburg… all locations with catastrophic EF5 Tornado Damage. By definition an EF5 has winds of 200mph or greater on the Enhanced Fujita Scale which estimates wind speeds by analyzing damage. It’s rare to have a Doppler On Wheels truck next to a tornado capable of EF5 winds.
I think the point of this blog post is that… even with the most advanced technology and near constant exposure to weather damage in my career, I’m still in awe of the incredible power harnessed within tornadoes. And I think all of us should pause when we see video or damage footage and reflect on those who are underneath these incredible winds. On some level, we should all step in and help out. Whether it’s an EF4 in Etna/Denning or an EF5 in Joplin. The people we’re seeing on the news are just like my older friend I encountered in Moore. They’re grandmas, mothers, sons, husbands, & wives. It’s the memories of these people, and of those who’s lives were lost that keep me here all night covering storms. I hate the damage from tornadoes. And since we can’t stop them at least I can do by best to warn those who are in its path. And all of us owe it to our neighbors to help them pick up the pieces when these monsters strike.
-Garrett
