Where I'm From
The warm afternoon sun plays peek-a-boo with white fluffy clouds on a beautiful spring day. The breeze rustles the newly blossomed leaves on the cottonwood tress. A large green tractor can be seen in the nearby wheat field, rolling wheat into large round bales of hay. Black and white dairy cows can be heard mooing as they wait for the farmer to feed them next door. Within a matter of minutes, dark storm clouds block out the playful sun, and threaten to disturb the peaceful environment. An angry rumble stills the heavy air before a loud clap of thunder explodes from above. Flashes of lightning strike the ground as rain furiously falls from the heavens. Despite the danger of the thunderstorm, the man in the tractor calmly finishes rolling his last bale of hay before going home. The thunder drowns out the sounds of mooing cows as they are rounded up into the dairy stables by the farmer next door.
As soon as it began, the angry little thunderstorm starts to taper off, leaving behind an eerie silence The clouds suddenly become thicker and darker as they slowly begin to swirl overhead. Tension builds within the silence as the swirling clouds form a funnel that finally touches the ground. Trees bend and break from the force of the violent winds. The ground shakes as if there was an earthquake. The sound of the cyclone is deafening as it rips through the land, destroying anything that is unlucky enough to be in its path.
After what seems like hours (even though it was only minutes)of listening to two freight trains crashing into each other, the chaos is suddenly gone. The sun tentatively peeks through the dissipating dark clouds, and life hesitantly comes out to survey the destruction the tornado left in its wake.
I grew up in central Oklahoma, and every tornado season (spring) a scene just like the one written above would happen. Actually, it would happen several times within the course of there months. I was sixteen years old when this scene played out right before my eyes.
My story actually started in my American History class. Mr. Sperry mentioned, while we were taking a break from writing notes, that it was a perfect day for tornadoes. I don't think any of us in class actually believed a tornado would hit that afternoon, but Mr. Sperry predicted the future.
After school, I went about my normal routine. I went home, threw my homework on the kitchen table, and joined my dad in the living room for eating dinner and watching afternoon cartoons. Once dinner was done, my dad took a nap, and I finished watching the cartoons before I moved into the game room to do whatever. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to get glued to news channel 9, but I remember watching the storm form on T.V. eighty miles southwest of where I lived. I watched as the tornado first formed, and I watched as it grew and left a massive path of destruction as it crashed right towards me.
A hour and a half before the tornado hit, I was in panic mode. We didn't have a basement or cellar, so the safest place in the house was in the closet underneath the staircase. The problem with that was that the closet was used for storage, so I cleaned out the closet like I was some sort of mad woman. My dad, on the other hand, was sitting calmly on the couch in the living room, watching news channel 9 (Gary England) tell us over and over again that we would not survive this tornado unless we were underground.
Ten minutes before the tornado hit, my dad finally decided that we needed to leave the house completely (by that point I was comfortably waiting for my doom in the closet underneath the staircase). Our across the street neighbor, Larry, had a cellar so we jumped into my dad's work van, drove to Larry's home, and piled into his cellar along with fifteen other people and someone's small annoying lap dog. I was crying because I was so terrified. My dad was still the calmest man alive, and Larry was busy trying to tell me that this was nothing more than a grand adventure (no, it wasn't).
By the time the tornado hit, it was over a mile wide. It had surpassed the highest ranking for tornadoes (F5), and the winds were over three hundred miles per hour. It was probably one of the loudest things I ever had to hear, and I had my ears covered. When I said that it sounded as if two freight trains were crashing into each other, I meant it. While it seemed much longer, it only lasted about three minutes. The tornado moved on to more populated areas.
During the chaos, a tree was knocked over by the powerful winds on top of the cellar door. Larry and my dad managed to squeeze out. With the help of some other people, they were able to pry the tree off the door so that the rest of us could get out. I couldn't wait for my dad as he was helping other people, so I walked home only to be reunited with my mom and my animals.
In the end, my mom, dad, and I were lucky. We lost part of the roof, a lot of the siding, some windows, and the foundation to the house was cracked. My aunt and uncle lost their home completely, their cars were wrapped around trees, and they even lost a dog. The important thing is that we all survived.
May 3rd, 1999. I survived the largest tornado in Oklahoma history.
As soon as it began, the angry little thunderstorm starts to taper off, leaving behind an eerie silence The clouds suddenly become thicker and darker as they slowly begin to swirl overhead. Tension builds within the silence as the swirling clouds form a funnel that finally touches the ground. Trees bend and break from the force of the violent winds. The ground shakes as if there was an earthquake. The sound of the cyclone is deafening as it rips through the land, destroying anything that is unlucky enough to be in its path.
After what seems like hours (even though it was only minutes)of listening to two freight trains crashing into each other, the chaos is suddenly gone. The sun tentatively peeks through the dissipating dark clouds, and life hesitantly comes out to survey the destruction the tornado left in its wake.
I grew up in central Oklahoma, and every tornado season (spring) a scene just like the one written above would happen. Actually, it would happen several times within the course of there months. I was sixteen years old when this scene played out right before my eyes.
My story actually started in my American History class. Mr. Sperry mentioned, while we were taking a break from writing notes, that it was a perfect day for tornadoes. I don't think any of us in class actually believed a tornado would hit that afternoon, but Mr. Sperry predicted the future.
After school, I went about my normal routine. I went home, threw my homework on the kitchen table, and joined my dad in the living room for eating dinner and watching afternoon cartoons. Once dinner was done, my dad took a nap, and I finished watching the cartoons before I moved into the game room to do whatever. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to get glued to news channel 9, but I remember watching the storm form on T.V. eighty miles southwest of where I lived. I watched as the tornado first formed, and I watched as it grew and left a massive path of destruction as it crashed right towards me.
A hour and a half before the tornado hit, I was in panic mode. We didn't have a basement or cellar, so the safest place in the house was in the closet underneath the staircase. The problem with that was that the closet was used for storage, so I cleaned out the closet like I was some sort of mad woman. My dad, on the other hand, was sitting calmly on the couch in the living room, watching news channel 9 (Gary England) tell us over and over again that we would not survive this tornado unless we were underground.
Ten minutes before the tornado hit, my dad finally decided that we needed to leave the house completely (by that point I was comfortably waiting for my doom in the closet underneath the staircase). Our across the street neighbor, Larry, had a cellar so we jumped into my dad's work van, drove to Larry's home, and piled into his cellar along with fifteen other people and someone's small annoying lap dog. I was crying because I was so terrified. My dad was still the calmest man alive, and Larry was busy trying to tell me that this was nothing more than a grand adventure (no, it wasn't).
By the time the tornado hit, it was over a mile wide. It had surpassed the highest ranking for tornadoes (F5), and the winds were over three hundred miles per hour. It was probably one of the loudest things I ever had to hear, and I had my ears covered. When I said that it sounded as if two freight trains were crashing into each other, I meant it. While it seemed much longer, it only lasted about three minutes. The tornado moved on to more populated areas.
During the chaos, a tree was knocked over by the powerful winds on top of the cellar door. Larry and my dad managed to squeeze out. With the help of some other people, they were able to pry the tree off the door so that the rest of us could get out. I couldn't wait for my dad as he was helping other people, so I walked home only to be reunited with my mom and my animals.
In the end, my mom, dad, and I were lucky. We lost part of the roof, a lot of the siding, some windows, and the foundation to the house was cracked. My aunt and uncle lost their home completely, their cars were wrapped around trees, and they even lost a dog. The important thing is that we all survived.
May 3rd, 1999. I survived the largest tornado in Oklahoma history.