For some odd reason, the recent storms that have rumbled through our geographic area have reminded me of other storms throughout my life. As I laid in bed last night, sleep frequently - or constantly - interrupted by lightning flashes and banging thunder, my mind took a u-turn as I replayed vignettes from yesteryear.
My first memories of storms were from my early years, beginning at age five, when my family moved from 'the farm' into 'town'. 'Town' was a very small community of approximately two thousand, at that time. (Now it is a huge metropolis of just under three thousand.) My parents bought a roomy two-story home that needed lots of TLC, which my dad was ready to give. When tornado warnings were issued, the town's siren would blare and we'd head for one of two places. The usual 'safe place' was one of those old, musty, cobwebby Michigan cellars, as they were called. The spiders most certainly outnumbered the humans and the old furnace was a behemoth. I can still see the size of that heating monster, which took up most of the floor in the foundation space that had been created simply to hold the furnace. My mom kept old Army cots down there, along with a kerosene lantern. If it was during the night when the tornado warning siren sounded, we'd schlep down those crooked, unstable stairs in our nightwear and lay down on the damp canvas of the cots, waiting until either the storm waned or the first light of day came and we all had to get going to school or work.
Why we would retreat to the other 'safe place' still remains a mystery to me. It was a 'crawl space', in the most literal of senses, under half of the home, simply the dirt over which the house was built. Access to this crawl space was through a small, street-side, foundation window, through which we would actually have to crawl on our hands and knees. There we would huddle, knees to chest, arms clasped around our knees, until the storm subsided, when we would crawl back out and brush off the dirt from our skin and clothing. I don't even want to think about what else accompanied our bodies out of that crawl space.
My parents always respected and responded to the tornado warning sirens, unlike me. Over the years, I have become very lackadaisical in my reaction to either hearing the warning sirens (when they work) or seeing the tornado-warning icon flashing on the bottom corner of my television screen. The presence of my own children in my home used to be inspiration enough to take the appropriate safe shelter. Now I am more likely to continue in whatever task in which I am engaged or continue my respite in bed, willing to take the risk of bodily injury over interrupting my body's need for sleep. There are more storms predicted for tonight. Once again I'll take my chances....comfort over safety.
And I thought wisdom was supposed to come with age........
Ancora imparo
