Why Are Tornadoes Following My Family?
Especially in places where they have rarely — or never — happened?
“Dad, we’re under a tornado warning.” No parent who grew up in the Deep South (much less in places like Tornado Alley) likes to hear those words. But that’s what my son told me when I answered the phone at 4 A.M. this morning in Manila, and my son was calling from Bainbridge Island in Washington state.
Those who grow up in places where tornadoes are prevalent tend to pay a bit more attention to the weather. More than most people, we tend to watch the clouds for shapes, colors, and certain movements. We look for swirls, for that rather greenish color, for cumulonimbus clouds looming overhead, and especially for supercells like the one below:
My first experience with a tornado was late one night in February 1971 in the Mississippi Delta when we heard that telltale freight-train rumbling, and we all crowded into the center of the house for protection until it hit a crescendo and then slowly diminished. The next morning we went outside and saw the only damage had been to some roof shingles and to our 30-foot TV antenna which had been twisted around and thrown to the ground, and knew we’d been extremely lucky — it had not touched all the way down yet. But it did touch down in Inverness, wiped much of the town off the map, and killed dozens.
My next experience was in 1982 on board the USS Simon Lake (AS 33) off the coast of Georgia. I was on the port side weather deck and saw a squall line in the distance…and counted ten (10!) waterspouts, the first and only time I’ve ever seen a swarm. What was most amazing is that nobody else on board seemed to notice it.
So when I first moved to Washington state back in 1984, I was happy to be in a place where tornadoes almost never happen, even though I’d read that tornadoes had been reported at one time or another in all fifty states. I’d sent my youngest son to go to high school in…
