(Photo by Lindsay)
Today we had rain for the first time in weeks. Sometime in the late afternoon, the kids and I all migrated across the street to our neighbors' house for dinner. They mentioned the tornado sirens. Tornado sirens? I've never lived in a place that had sirens for anything- how exciting! Later, as I walked home to get some napkins, I heard them for myself, and couldn't suppress a huge smile. Tornado sirens! (No one seemed worried, and our neighbors are from Oklahoma, so I figure they know when to be scared.)
Back at home, in the middle of father-less bedtime chaos, the phone rang. My cousin Laura was on the line with her parents, the three of them driving back to L.A. from a weekend at Joshua Tree national park. I told them my exciting news of the tornado sirens and my Aunt asked if I had gotten naked and locked myself in my closet. That's when I decided I had to tell the story of the great tornado of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina....
It was late summer, and my cousin and I were just finishing up a several-week stint with our grandparents at their beach house in the Outer Banks. We were probably eight and ten.
It was late afternoon, and we had on our matching sparkly black bikinis from Belk's. We floated on our backs in the ocean and pretended not to hear Grandmom's calls for us to come on in, it was time to go home for supper. Realizing we were hungry, we eventually made our way to shore, just as a woman walked past, relaying news of a tornado watch in effect.
Back at home, in the middle of father-less bedtime chaos, the phone rang. My cousin Laura was on the line with her parents, the three of them driving back to L.A. from a weekend at Joshua Tree national park. I told them my exciting news of the tornado sirens and my Aunt asked if I had gotten naked and locked myself in my closet. That's when I decided I had to tell the story of the great tornado of Kitty Hawk, North Carolina....
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It was late summer, and my cousin and I were just finishing up a several-week stint with our grandparents at their beach house in the Outer Banks. We were probably eight and ten.
It was late afternoon, and we had on our matching sparkly black bikinis from Belk's. We floated on our backs in the ocean and pretended not to hear Grandmom's calls for us to come on in, it was time to go home for supper. Realizing we were hungry, we eventually made our way to shore, just as a woman walked past, relaying news of a tornado watch in effect.
Laura and I looked up at the sky and saw black clouds moving in. Panic took over in our little-girl minds and we forsook our towels, flip-flops, even our beloved grandmother, and sprinted for the beach house. Grandmom ran behind, shouting "Girls! Girls! At least put your shoes on!", but we paid her no heed, now fully caught up in our imagined drama.
Back at the house I, being the older, wiser cousin, divined that it would be safest to head for an upstairs closet (not sure what my logic was there). We locked ourselves in and commenced crying and carrying on. At some point, Grandmom knocked on the closet door and insisted that we take off our wet bathing suits or we would catch cold. We obliged, opening the door a crack, tossing them out and quickly slamming it shut again. Now we were soaking wet, naked and carrying on in a dark closet.
About this time it occurred to us that we couldn't account for our grandfather's whereabouts. We heard the water turn on, and were able to infer that he was stubbornly taking an outdoor shower in the middle of a life-threatening clamity. This allowed us to work ourselves into an even greater frenzy, complete with wails of, "Grandaddy, please, COME INSIDE!!! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN THE TORNADO!!!"
"GRANDMOM, GO AND GET HIM! HE'S GOING TO DIE! TELL HIM TO COME IN THE CLOSET WITH US!!!"
"WE WANT OUR MOTHERS!"
And so on.
Eventually we got bored in the closet. The rain stopped, and we came out and put on dry clothes. We had many more happy summers at the beach with our grandparents before they sold the house my sophomore year in college. I haven't been to the Outer Banks since. But thinking back to this afternoon's sirens, there's still a bit of that little girl in me, who loves to drama of a good storm.
Fortunately I now keep my clothes on:).
Back at the house I, being the older, wiser cousin, divined that it would be safest to head for an upstairs closet (not sure what my logic was there). We locked ourselves in and commenced crying and carrying on. At some point, Grandmom knocked on the closet door and insisted that we take off our wet bathing suits or we would catch cold. We obliged, opening the door a crack, tossing them out and quickly slamming it shut again. Now we were soaking wet, naked and carrying on in a dark closet.
About this time it occurred to us that we couldn't account for our grandfather's whereabouts. We heard the water turn on, and were able to infer that he was stubbornly taking an outdoor shower in the middle of a life-threatening clamity. This allowed us to work ourselves into an even greater frenzy, complete with wails of, "Grandaddy, please, COME INSIDE!!! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE IN THE TORNADO!!!"
"GRANDMOM, GO AND GET HIM! HE'S GOING TO DIE! TELL HIM TO COME IN THE CLOSET WITH US!!!"
"WE WANT OUR MOTHERS!"
And so on.
Eventually we got bored in the closet. The rain stopped, and we came out and put on dry clothes. We had many more happy summers at the beach with our grandparents before they sold the house my sophomore year in college. I haven't been to the Outer Banks since. But thinking back to this afternoon's sirens, there's still a bit of that little girl in me, who loves to drama of a good storm.
Fortunately I now keep my clothes on:).
5 comments:
What a great story! And here's to being 8 and 10, when you can be naked and not too worried about it!
Now, I seem to remember grandmother saying, as we yelled for our mothers...
"What good would it do to have your mothers here? Do you want them to die too? They wouldn't be able to stop the tornado."
Ok. So maybe she didn't say they would die...but that is how our little kid brains processed it and even more panic set in.
I also remember using the trama of the event when it rained for attention, and to avoid the stool by the window. I would love to have my stool with my name scribbled on the bottom. wonder what happened to those.
A great story! I love the drama that surrounds a storm that is not dangerous in the end.
So yesterday I looked at wral and saw a big red post on the top "Warning: Tornado sighted in Bahama, heading northeast!" I wondered--being in Bahama, should i panic? But I looked at the radar and it looked like whatever was happening was happening to the east of us. So I didn't.
A little later I went and got in the shower. Just as I was finishing Rachel came calling me, all in a panic. I got out and she yelled "Mom, dad called on the phone and he said on the radio they said there's a tornado in Durham headed to Bahama!" And all I could think was--Darn, there's going to be a tornado and I'm going to be naked in a closet!!
Thanks for the laugh...
What a thrill to share this childhood story of you and your cousin, Laura, in your birthday suits, at Kitty Hawk. Just a few years older--with y'all in (or out) of those matching, black, sparkly, Belk bikinis--the Wright brothers may have been too distracted to attempt flying--especially in such a thunderstorm or tornado. If you tell your children this story, then I can easily imagine what may happen in Decatur this spring when the tornado sirens sound. (Have your camera ready, please!). Hoping Eric's Ph.D. is done by then, so y'all won't be "across the street" when childish histrionics begin.
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