So, now I come to the point of having to make a decision about this week's leg of the project. After having meditated (finally!), and spent countless hours taking photos of the aftermath of Friday's storm, I'm going to sit tight on that until tomorrow. Things have changed dramatically around here.
Typically, Ayla goes to preschool for several hours four days a week, but that won't be happening this week, as her school doesn't have power- like nearly every place in this area. Evan and Ayla are my buddies for the week, which means I have to tailor things around that. Mark's classes are cancelled indefinitely too. Because no one in central Ohio (that I know of) has cell phone service, even the voice lessons I teach will be tricky; I'll have to drive over there early in the day, hoping they're home, and ask if we're still on for the evening (we usually text a few hours before), then go back later. More than likely, though, they don't have power, which will make use of the keyboard impossible, and their house will surely be very hot. We may end up doing our lesson outside in the shade, or coming back to my house- we are one family in a very small area that has power, because we are on the same tiny power grid as the hospital (we surmise).
Friday, June 29, 2012:
At 5:30pm, we had just arrived at a music store to get guitar strings for my best friend's birthday. We could see an hour or so before that a storm would be rolling in at some point, and we were so grateful. This area was in the worst drought it had experienced in decades. Everywhere you looked it was dry, light brown. We pulled into a parking spot, and my phone rang as we were exiting the car. I stayed to talk to Ayla's aunt, who rarely calls, so I knew I had better answer it. Mark and Evan were on the way to the entrance of the store when I called them back.
"I think we need to go back home," I said to Mark. Lezlie says the storm just hit Granville, and it's really bad. Eighty-mile-an-hour-winds bad. They don't have power there, and she said it's crazy."
"Okay, I'll be quick. You can just wait here," he said to me as I shut the car door and told them to hurry.
Not ten seconds after Mark and Evan got inside the store, windows down in the car, I was hit in the face with a piece of paper, and dirt was flying in from all over the place. There had just been dark clouds and a breeze, and instantaneously, the wind was ripping through. I put the keys back in the ignition, put the windows as quickly as I could, and flung the car door open. A huge table umbrella flew up behind me and hit the car next to it. I was honestly unsure I would make it the twenty feet to the music store entrance without getting hurt. It was intense. Abrupt. As soon as I got beyond the car, a transformer exploded loudly just down the street, and the block's power surged. I yelled, "Please!" to the employee who was securing the store door to let me in. He held the door open just enough for me to get inside and locked it. It all happened very fast.
My first though when whirling back around was that we were in a glass-front shop with hundreds of untethered musical instruments, and to us, it looked and felt like a tornado was imminent. Evan was, of course, afraid; he's only six, after all. Hell, we were all pretty afraid. I know I was. We tried to make the best of it, and there were a handful of other people in there who were doing the same. I washed the dirt out of my eyes in the bathroom lit by a generator, and we waited. Paying for the strings with exact change, we left after about twenty minutes when it had died down. Though the area was without power, there was still the stormy, dim light of evening, and everything looked to be relatively in tact, surprisingly. It wasn't until we started driving home that we realized it was not at all that way.
It was like a scene from a movie.
All the traffic lights were dark, so people are having to do that "treat them like they're stop signs" business, which only works with courteous drivers, of course. Inevitably, you're dealing with people who keep going like they're entitled to a green light, or some such thing; thus, traffic was backed up everywhere. We made our way off the main road, only to enter a war zone. Trees were down all over the place. Everyone was outside, in awe of this thing that had blown through. A live power line on the road had cars rerouted through a ditch and down over cinder blocks. Lightning had struck so many trees at a local park, it looked like it had been chosen for destruction. Enormous, old Oak trees, gooey Evergreen trees, all broken, charred, torn apart at every turn. As Jeff Foxworthy once said, "It was paaandelerium." Yes. Yes, it was. The world was almost silent, barring a whispered, "Oh my goodness..." every fifty feet. No one knew what to make of it. I had my hand over my mouth for most of the drive, eyes wide in astonishment and empathy. What would normally have taken five or six minutes to navigate, took nearly half an hour. Central Ohio was in crawl mode.
Arriving back in our neighborhood, we were greeted with two huge trees pulled up by their roots, laying now on top of a light blue sedan. I mean, HUGE trees. Just came right up and toppled over. Branches and limbs and twigs and leaves and dirt as far as the eye could see. At the other end of a parking lot, another tree had come up by its roots, just missing the roof of a building. Everyone hung around outside for a while, talking, pondering the next move. We tried endlessly to reach Mark's daughter and her mother, but no such luck, so we knew we'd be venturing out that way as soon as the mayhem in town presented an opening. Mark and a few others went to help clear a road nearby. Evan and I went exploring.
An avid photographer by hobby, I wanted to document everything, see what we could do to help. I took photos of the damage, asking neighbors along the way if everyone was okay, seeing if there was anything we could do. Everyone seemed to be fine, though a little in shock, especially as lightning had struck a big tree a few feet from an apartment building (my best friend's building). There were limbs dangling on power lines, trees blocking roads and walkways, branches that needed to be moved to make roads and parking lots drivable. We tossed things out of the way as we walked, and remarked to each other over and over how crazy it all was. Evan was amazed, having never seen anything like it, and he used the word "disaster" a lot.
We ventured back home, only to hear that AEP said it could be days before power was restored, as the damage was so widespread over multiple counties. The heat index that day had been 104 degrees, and it was supposed to be nearly as hot the next day, so most everyone was contemplating how to deal with that. We were too. We hopped in the car just before 9, hoping we could make our way to see that Mark's daughter was okay. Through this, we saw the north end of town, which was as bad, if not worse, than what we had seen earlier. The covering over a play area at Ayla's school had collapsed; a stretch of residential road near the local college campus was just destroyed. Not houses, mind you, but trees. That's the thing- from what we could tell, most houses and cars (and even signs and trash cans and playsets) were all fine. We still don't quite understand it. You would think that, if a storm of this obvious magnitude ripped through an area, everything in its path would incur damage. Not the case here at all. It was just trees (with the exception of a little siding here and there). I've seen less destructive storms toss shingles all over the place, send trash can bouncing and rolling, bring down street signs and commercial signs, tear pieces of billboard signs to shreds, but no...almost nothing. We saw ONE bent sign along the highway, and ONE set of traffic lights that had twisted, but that was it. And we drove all over town. Just trees and transformers, damaged from both lightning and wind. In two days of driving, I only saw two houses damaged, both by trees falling on them. Granted, the trees really bit it. It was a sight to behold. Almost like The Nothing from The Neverending Story had barreled through, pulling up trees and tossing lightning bolts at them. Surreal.
Needless to say, Mark's daughter is fine. So far, the news reports only one death associated with the storm, though it blew over a handful of semi trucks an hour or so north of here. It's all so strange. It still is. When I walk out the front door, I see those two enormous trees that were pulled up out of the ground, though someone brought out a chainsaw yesterday to free that car (still drivable). We are one of the lucky few to have power, which came on with a frightful bang yesterday morning. We hear tell that it could be five or more days for everyone else. If we didn't live on the tiny grid also occupied by the local hospital, we'd probably be in that same boat. There is no cell phone service for anyone in this area, regardless of provider, so we're relegated to emergency calls. Admittedly, I kind of like that. I hate the sound of my phone beeping, even though I am guilty of using it. In times past, when I've run out of minutes, I would let it sit that way for a few days just to have some quiet. It is very, very quiet around here. Unless, of course, you go to the one store near here that's open, because everyone west of us is coming there too. The lines are terminally long, and people are starting to get cranky. They ran out of ice half an hour after the storm, and the shelves look pitiful. The ice cream bar next door has been so overrun that they've been opening early and staying open three hours late, because people are desperate. The drive-thru across the street has had a line as long as a football field ever since too. I hope those three places are paying their employees double what they normally get. Their business is booming, and their workers are saints- never a moment to rest, working double shifts. I commend you all.
As part of this week, I believe I will come up with some way to thank them.
We had a decent rain this evening for the first time in over a month. It has cooled down considerably, a welcome respite for those without power. I imagine a lot of people are sitting outside tonight, enjoying what little chill than can get, as tomorrow is supposed to be very hot again...and the next day, and the next, and the day after that. With Fourth of July celebrations just a few days away, I'm curious to see how those will play out. Something tells me that ice cream and lemonade vendors will receive more than what they typically do on a hot summer day- people's ideas of cold things have changed here. I would also venture to say that anyone who has a pool has had more than their normal share of visitors lately. Grills are cooking a lot more than just burgers and hot dogs, coolers have become refrigerators. Cars are used for air conditioning, instead of driving. Funny how our perceptions of certain things alter in situations like this. I know, just from being where I am, that a lot more people know their neighbors than did before. Too, I guarantee that out-of-town families are having visits they weren't expecting.
On a semi-side-note, four hours before the storm hit, our neighbors gave birth to a baby girl in their home with a midwife. From the block party that night, we could hear her tiny cry at 1 in the morning- a life-filled sound. Congratulations, you two. All the best. A birthday that will be remembered in a multitude of ways.
From drought to disaster, to calm, and finally to real rain. The boys are asleep- worn out, really- and I'm not far behind. I spent all of last night and today sick and unable to do much. I think I can logically chalk it up to food I didn't think was spoiled. Oops. Never again. I'm scared of anything in the fridge. I quit. The power of non-perishables.
A new week begins with clean up, gratitude, and waiting. We will find new ways to play, new ways to eat, new ways to be together. There is nowhere to shop or to go, so things will be a little different for a while...for everyone. Everything happens as it's supposed to happen, though, so this is just how it is (a concept a little difficult to explain to a child, but kudos to all the kids who are being super troopers right now). Please be generous with family and friends who live around here, and to anyone who ever has to go through anything like this. Times like these bring out the best and worst in people, and it's nice to see those who can pull it together for their families and others who need help.
Thank you to the few local shops that are handling far more than their fair share, and to AEP (for working around the clock and bringing in employees from out of the area) and the Red Cross and all those operating shelters and relief efforts. Thank you to all those who have lent a hand. Stay cool and hydrated, everyone. It's only temporary, as all things are.
[To see photos from the storm and other things, go to Galleries, and click on Week 3 Photos.]
And so we live.
Peace to all.
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