A Stormy Day in Tornado Alley
I can’t think of anything that makes me feel more helpless than a near-brush with a tornado. Back in 1994 a tornado touched down a few miles south of our house. I will long remember that day. Jennifer and I sat on our front porch and watched the weird, thick, greenish-grey cover of clouds roll rapidly from west to east overhead. There was no sound. No wind. It was eerie. We didn’t have the sophisticated internet radar that we have today so I had to rely solely upon our transistor weather radio. The sense of overwhelming powerlessness, of impending chaotic doom, is something I still carry with me today. I told Jennifer then that it was in moments like that when I could best understand why people need to believe in some higher being. There is something profoundly human about us that needs a counter-force to which to make an appeal in the face of reckless natural power. We were lucky then. The other time that comes to mind was when Jennifer and I were celebrating our 13th wedding anniver