This unhappiness is only increased when local meteorologists pace in front of their green screens, stressing the likelihood of a storm turning into something more severe, more messy. The chance of being woken up is heightened with the possibility of the tell tale whine of a weather siren going off at ungodly hours of the night or early morning, causing clumsy shuffling out of beds and trudging down to TVs and radios, listening to whether or not there's the immediate danger of being blown away or not. This kind of event always tends to occur during these poorly timed hours of day, when everyone had long settled into the warm confines of their beds and had put the day's events behind them, and it is only made worse when it happens to those of us who live without the security of a basement or another means of proper shelter.
Growing up in the Midwest, severe thunderstorms are a normalcy. While Ohio isn't the tornado alley along Kansas, Nebraska, and Oklahoma, every so often there is the line of storms that spreads extensive damage throughout the counties, making headlines for the weeks following. Why then, would anyone build a house without a basement or at least a logical shelter, will always remain a mystery.
Looking back at the storms that plagued the tri-state area in the past week, this question came back to mind as I rolled out of bed at four am to brave the harsh rain, intense lightening, and piercing tornado sirens to drive to the closest neighbor who would welcome anyone into their house during such an event. Not having a basement is not the end of the world, but when the only room away from a window is next to the heating systems and all of the circuitry that would prove dangerous in the event of severe weather, things become problematic.
Last Wednesday saw the familiar scenario of adapting to these illogical circumstances unfold for the hundredth time. With preparing normally for bed came turning up volumes, placing shoes by the bed and wearing pajamas that would prove durable in the event of getting pelted by rain in them. An almost ridiculous sense of anxiety prevailed throughout the house, perhaps due to the anticipation of panicked dramatics that often unfold in the few minutes between waking up and breaking speed limits to get to a shelter. It was almost comically pre-scripted, the warnings going off and the three of us stumbling through the house not fully awake, grabbing random things, including a very disgruntled, yowling cat, and racing around the corner to another house full of equally sleepy people, only to realize that not only was the tornado five minutes east, but that it had already touched down by the time we even left the house. Better safe than sorry, I suppose.
The luck we faced being missed by the first tornado to actually hit the immediate area in some time aside, there was still the overwhelming annoyance at having to deal with the event in the first place. Returning home at nearly 5 am, still in the pouring rain, how could anyone go back to sleep and be fully rested for the next day? No one wanted to go back out into the storm should the sirens go off again. Nevertheless, choosing to embrace the more likely option of being able to stay in for then night, we settled back into our beds, hoping that our little excursion would be the one an only. It was another run of the mill tornado warning adventure to add to the collection, another reminder of how illogical our own house was, and something to talk about if we ever got into school the next day. It is perhaps a first sign of spring or more evidence of the rapidly changing climate that has wrecked our winter.
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