Tornado Boy

Back in 1956 we didn't have tornado warnings like they do now. In August of that year, I was six years old and watching my brother and his friends play baseball in the park. While sitting there I noticed a strange cloud formation that stretched from high in the sky all the way down to the ground. I was fascinated by the way it moved and the way all kinds of junk seemed to fly up where ever it went. It was a tornado, and it was ripping through our town  just three blocks from where I was sitting. After a few moments of quietly watching it I finally said to my brother, "What is that?"  All I remember from that point on is flying through the air. Not because the tornado had picked me up, but because my older brother had grabbed me and was running full speed towards our house a full two blocks away. My brother apparently understood the danger of what was happening, because he didn't take the long way home. He cut straight through yards and over fences with me firmly in his grasp. Honestly I don't think my feet touched the ground once until we arrived at our house and we were all safely in the basement.

I don't think anyone was killed in that tornado, but I do know from that point on I learned to respect the power of nature. These days there are people who go on tornado hunting vacations, where a guide takes them across the Great Plains of the U.S.A. hoping to see a tornado. All I have to say about that is, what the hell is wrong with those people? Don't they know, all they have to do is buy a mobile home, park it near a corn field in Oklahoma, and wait. They'll see a tornado sooner or later.