November 15th
November 15th will always be an important date to me. Near the start of orchestra class on that day, way back in 1988, a tornado passed by the main building and east side of our school grounds, severely damaging several fast food places and apartment buildings. Just a mile or so earlier it had destroyed some homes in my parents' neighborhood, including some that were just across the small highway from where we lived. My mother and youngest sister (at the time) had seen the tornado start to cross the highway right towards them, only to pull briefly up into the clouds and then come down again a few blocks north of our house.
My high school's campus was a college-style campus with open grounds, one main building, and LOTS of smaller buildings. Fortunately the tornado was small and the main building (lots of brick, not too many windows) was the one closest to the tornado.
Special thanks to violist Frank, who just minutes before the tornado had opened the windows of our classroom to let in a breeze on that unseasonably warm day. Due to Frank's lucky actions, ours were the only windows in the building that were not blown in. So, we were not hit by exploding glass. Also thanks to him we experienced the very weird phenomenon, in the seconds proceeding the tornado, of seeing rain come up under the windows and into the classroom. The classroom windows were two-part windows with a stationary top pane and a lower pane that opened on a hinge at a 45 degree angle on the bottom.
I'll never forget the gastly white look on our orchestra director's face as I turned around and saw the freakishly greenish storm clouds in the window (and the rain defying gravity to enter our classroom and get us wet.) I'll never forget running into the hallway and skidding across the vinyl flooring as the doors at either end of the hall burst open and asphalt tiles and other debris rained upon us. I'll never forget our orchestra director's brand new little convertible that had been parked right outside our classroom, but was destroyed in the storm, never to be replaced. I had to throw away the clothing I wore that day because we never could get all of the itchy fiberglass(?) insulation out of it. My hand sparkled for about a week afterwards from the debris that showered my fellow orchestra members as we crouched in the middle of a hallway outside our classroom.
Returning to our classroom immediately after the tornado, the timpani had moved at least 40 feet to the other side of the classroom, either going over or around one music stand that was left standing in the middle of the classroom - complete with music and pencil still in place. Very weird.
Initially after the tornado the orchestra gathered in the band room with choir members because it was close by and it was the largest interior room in the building we could reach without having to walk past a lot of windows. Tornado sirens hadn't gone off, but did so about 5 minutes after the twister, as delayed reports of the touchdown reached local police and fire departments. We didn't know there wasn't another tornado, so we were sent out the back door of the building and then into the only basement on the whole campus - I think it was below the cafeteria. We'd not seen the rest of the campus yet, so I had no idea how the rest of the buildings (which were much smaller and more vulnerable than the main building) had fared. My only thought was for my sister - if she was okay, if she was alive. We huddled in that basement for what seemed like twenty minutes listening to a radio about a tornado just west of where we were located. Finally it became apparent that there was no "second" tornado and when the all-clear was given we exited through the front of the little basement onto a grassy area in the middle of the campus. All was well. My relief was intense.
The school only had to be closed for one day afterwards. All of the cars in the east parking lot lost their windows, and some were pushed into each other. If I remember correctly, my older sister and I got a ride home from her friend Jay. We brushed the glass off the back seat and then sat on poster board. The five minute ride took an hour as several parts of our neighborhood had been shut down by the police. The most amazing sight was a tree across from our high school that had been hit by lightning and completely split in half.
To this day I still have tornado dreams. You might even call them nightmares. Usually they involve multiple tornadoes that never reach me, but nonetheless, no matter how far underground I go there are always windows and I can always see them approaching, and nowhere is safe.
Of course no one ever talks about this tornado. It was only an F2 and it will forever be overshadowed by the 5th costliest tornado in U.S. history - The Topeka Tornado of 1966, which interestingly enough was just a few days before my parents were married.
Related links:
New York Times article on Nov 17, 1988
Boston Globe article on Nov 16, 1988
My high school's campus was a college-style campus with open grounds, one main building, and LOTS of smaller buildings. Fortunately the tornado was small and the main building (lots of brick, not too many windows) was the one closest to the tornado.
Special thanks to violist Frank, who just minutes before the tornado had opened the windows of our classroom to let in a breeze on that unseasonably warm day. Due to Frank's lucky actions, ours were the only windows in the building that were not blown in. So, we were not hit by exploding glass. Also thanks to him we experienced the very weird phenomenon, in the seconds proceeding the tornado, of seeing rain come up under the windows and into the classroom. The classroom windows were two-part windows with a stationary top pane and a lower pane that opened on a hinge at a 45 degree angle on the bottom.
I'll never forget the gastly white look on our orchestra director's face as I turned around and saw the freakishly greenish storm clouds in the window (and the rain defying gravity to enter our classroom and get us wet.) I'll never forget running into the hallway and skidding across the vinyl flooring as the doors at either end of the hall burst open and asphalt tiles and other debris rained upon us. I'll never forget our orchestra director's brand new little convertible that had been parked right outside our classroom, but was destroyed in the storm, never to be replaced. I had to throw away the clothing I wore that day because we never could get all of the itchy fiberglass(?) insulation out of it. My hand sparkled for about a week afterwards from the debris that showered my fellow orchestra members as we crouched in the middle of a hallway outside our classroom.
Returning to our classroom immediately after the tornado, the timpani had moved at least 40 feet to the other side of the classroom, either going over or around one music stand that was left standing in the middle of the classroom - complete with music and pencil still in place. Very weird.
Initially after the tornado the orchestra gathered in the band room with choir members because it was close by and it was the largest interior room in the building we could reach without having to walk past a lot of windows. Tornado sirens hadn't gone off, but did so about 5 minutes after the twister, as delayed reports of the touchdown reached local police and fire departments. We didn't know there wasn't another tornado, so we were sent out the back door of the building and then into the only basement on the whole campus - I think it was below the cafeteria. We'd not seen the rest of the campus yet, so I had no idea how the rest of the buildings (which were much smaller and more vulnerable than the main building) had fared. My only thought was for my sister - if she was okay, if she was alive. We huddled in that basement for what seemed like twenty minutes listening to a radio about a tornado just west of where we were located. Finally it became apparent that there was no "second" tornado and when the all-clear was given we exited through the front of the little basement onto a grassy area in the middle of the campus. All was well. My relief was intense.
The school only had to be closed for one day afterwards. All of the cars in the east parking lot lost their windows, and some were pushed into each other. If I remember correctly, my older sister and I got a ride home from her friend Jay. We brushed the glass off the back seat and then sat on poster board. The five minute ride took an hour as several parts of our neighborhood had been shut down by the police. The most amazing sight was a tree across from our high school that had been hit by lightning and completely split in half.
To this day I still have tornado dreams. You might even call them nightmares. Usually they involve multiple tornadoes that never reach me, but nonetheless, no matter how far underground I go there are always windows and I can always see them approaching, and nowhere is safe.
Of course no one ever talks about this tornado. It was only an F2 and it will forever be overshadowed by the 5th costliest tornado in U.S. history - The Topeka Tornado of 1966, which interestingly enough was just a few days before my parents were married.
Related links:
New York Times article on Nov 17, 1988
Boston Globe article on Nov 16, 1988