May 10, 2008 
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My Top 3 |
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It’s the day before we begin the chase and the main thing on my mind is packing–fitting three weeks of clothes, sunblock, snacks, toiletries, etc. into a medium-sized duffle bag. Ahem. If you know me well, you know this is an interesting challenge.
As a distraction to the OCD tendency I have to pack and re-pack, I’m watching the weather channel, checking e-mail for updates on where we might chase, and listening to music. Looks like we may chase in Tennessee the first day and then head west into the Central Plains for Monday and Tuesday, then up to Illinois or thereabouts for Wednesday. Of course, this means several hours each day in the van, and I’m guessing, very little time to relax. My iPod will come in handy.
A few days ago, I joked with one of our chasers that we should have started chasing a week ago right here in Virginia. We’ve had two weeks of severe weather with storms dropping tornadoes near Suffolk, Virginia, and a few nights ago near Martinsville. For a few minutes last night, I watched a tornadic storm track NE through West Virginia in the direction of my town. It made me wonder how I’d respond to a direct threat on my home–one my significant other and I have spent two years renovating. What if we lost everything? What if our home were leveled by a tornado, our belongings splintered and blown across our neighborhood? I’d like to say I’d be alright as long as we survived (along with our little orange cat), but I know I’d find myself mentally running through the list of things in our house (books, plants, dishes, clothes, computers, etc.) until I hit on something I’d forgotten, like the ceramic cats I inherited from my grandpa. Only then do I realize how truly brutalized someone must feel when they lose everything.
I’ve said before that I’d like to see a damage path left by a tornado, even one left through a town, such as the d
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