they said it couldn�t happen
June 04, 2007

Tornadoes were a common subject of discussion throughout the spring and summer months of my childhood. I remember being taught what to do in case of a tornado, and being frequently reminded of that teaching by the various adults in my life. And I remember those adults talking about the likelihood of a tornado blasting through our area. One thing they all agreed on�Muscatine was safe. A tornado would never hit there. The curve of the river, and the towering bluffs, would confound a funnel cloud, and cause it to give Muscatine a wide berth.

Well, guess not.

There was no one killed, or even seriously hurt. And that is something for which to feel truly thankful. But 39 homes, a post office, a city hall, and numerous businesses were destroyed or heavily damaged. Parks, cemeteries, road signs, power lines, and a million little details of daily life were uprooted, knocked down, or just blown away. And that takes a toll on people, too.

This storm was a near-miss for my family. It plowed through Grandview, close by the company where my niece works. It ran through Fruitland, on the South side of town where both my remaining brothers work. It demolished a neighborhood three blocks from my brother�s house and my sister-in-law�s business�and about an equal distance from the high school attended by my nephew.

They are all fine. My brother�s house didn�t suffer so much as a stray leaf in the yard. But even after the fact, with the knowledge that everyone is safe, I find it all deeply unsettling.

I spent two hours gabbing on the phone with my sister-in law last night. We laughed, we cried, and we shared stories about all kinds of stuff. We bitched about some people, praised other ones, and generally hung out, just kind of holding on long-distance to what we hold dear.