Finger

The one glaringly present force in the South is the weather. It is so unpredictable that one second it could be snowing and the next a heat advisory issued. These sudden shifts in hot and cold air cause tornadoes.

Finger Sketch, Graphite on Rives BFK 2018. 

I don’t know if I will ever be able to say that I became “used to this phenomenon”. The shreiking of the emergency alert radio followed by that robotic voice, still makes me tense up with nausea. 

At least I can say that I’ve lived through many of these dangerous storms.

But, there is one that stands out. 

In 1988, I was six years old in kindergarten at a small elementary school in Clinton, MS. It had been a rough few months of the new year as my mother returned to work in medical coding in March at Blue Cross and Blue Shield.  I still remember her coming off the swing shift every morning as I was just waking up for school. We barely saw each other except for tight hugs and quick kisses as I ran to catch the bus. 

I still can see myself waving to her that morning in the dark as the bus pulled away from our little house. Our relationship was so disconnected, two related strangers.

The sky overhead was turning a heavy grey and indigo while the thunder began to roll in the distance. I didn’t want to leave home.

Later at school, it rained constantly, and the sun never really felt like it was going to rise. All day long, I stared out the window of my classroom as the lights flickered on and off. Over the intercom, the school secretary kept interrupting class to remind teachers of safety precautions. Ms. Montgomery, my teacher at the time, eventually gave up on instruction, and I spent the afternoon playing Old Maid in the corner of the room with a friend. At around 2:00 p.m. our usual dismissal time, the weather became quite violent. The rain started falling like nails against the windows, somewhat leaking through air gaps and cracks. A strange chill came over me as we were hurriedly sent out to the buses, and the lights suddenly went out while the wind began to pick up quickly.

Worry began to set in as I climbed the steps of that old familiar yellow beast. Despite subtle pushes and shoves from peers, I managed to slide into a seat close to the front. As I plopped down our bus driver began to argue with the principal who was supposed to monitor and direct each bus departure. “It just isn’t safe!”, the bus driver yelled as her hand gripped on the shaking metal lever that held the front door open. However, Ms. Quick, our principal (like the popular 1980’s chocolate drink mix) only waved her right hand in the air while turning her back responding, “oh it’s fine!”. Leaving us to face unknown dangers. I still remember her staunch typical Southern “aristocratic” coldness. I often wondered if her perfectly set gray mane was real or a wig. The bus driver gritted her teeth in frustration as she shut the door and we took off towards the next school to pick up more students. 

The plan was to gather us all from the smaller schools and unify at one of the larger ones in a multipurpose room to ceremoniously, “duck and cover”.

As the bus turned onto the main street that lead to Eastside Elementary, a large gust of wind hit us on the right side. The bus briefly came off its wheels and we all let out a unified scream holding onto the back of seats, each other, or bracing against sidewalls. Clouds and lightning rolled angrily overhead as the sky grew even darker and the rain turned to large hail. I knew in that moment, it was coming.

The bus pulled up to park beside the school and immediately a teacher came out banging her fist on the glass front door. The bus driver opened it quickly as the teacher yelled, “Get off! Get all the children off! Everyone needs to get inside now!” Of course, we all screamed a bit again as we were quickly yanked out of our seats. Once down to the sidewalk, I could see the wind was even stronger as the buses rocked back and forth. It was quite the impression, as I had always seen them as heroic indestructible mammoths. Yet, in that moment, I was sure one would turn over.

We were guided against a long brick wall on the outside of the school towards a large common room with heavy metal doors. Just like our school, the electricity had gone out and I began to cry. All I could think of at that tiny age was, “Where is my mother!” It was one of the most painful emotions accompanied by my first taste of mortality. I knew that day I could die. My face became puffy and my eyes blurry with tears as I looked around the room for a familiar face. A teacher tried to comfort me as I collapsed down sitting on my knees. Other kids were scared too clustering around in little circles shaking.  Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to see my older best friend Tiara quickly crawling over to sit beside me. We both stayed at the same neighbor’s house every day after school. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relieved. I cried reaching for her as she hugged me tightly and whispered shaking, “It’s gonna be…O..K…..baby, it’s gonna be…….ok.”  

Then, the tornado sirens went off full blast. I’ll never forget the sound that followed. It was like a train coming in full force with a loud slow groaning. We all sat huddled in the middle of that room as we watched this strange animal pick up trees and rip at the ground outside. I closed my eyes and prayed in my own little way for my mother to be safe and for us all to survive. Objects bounced around outside smashing into the front doors, windows in classrooms shattered, and finally we heard one of the buses turn over on its side. The sound of that heavy metal bending into a small accordion sent such a shock of impermanence through me.

This all lasted for around fifteen minutes, and then everything went quiet. 

After awhile, one of the school’s administrators got up and hesitantly exited the main doors. Teachers and other school staff followed. Soon after, we were told to get up and form lines to exit the building. As I walked out slowly with Tiara, I could see that the entire neighborhood had been obliterated, except for the school. Miraculously, It was the only structure that survived. My eyes clouded up again. I was thankful, but could not stop crying. My thoughts and emotions immediately returned to my mother, and the worry became frantic. As I walked through the debris towards a different bus, I prayed again that she was safe. 

Tiara sat beside me on the bus as I cried all the way to our sitter’s house.  I don’t remember the bus ride or even getting off it, but I do remember that once inside that house I sat on the carpet, just staring out blankly. The rain had come back full force and it pelted in waves against the glass storm dorm as a tv kept blaring weather bulletins through snowy interference in the background. I just waited and waited. I kept thinking, “What would I do without my mom?” Prior to the storm I’d been angry with her because of her schedule. I’d behaved badly and been a bit of brat to her in the few moments that we shared. In February, she had made me a special scavenger hunt for a tin of freshly homemade chocolate fudge. She’d spent her entire morning off hiding notes for me to find with her lovely little handwriting. I closed my eyes and breathed in all the facets that made my mother great so full of remorse. Just as this gratefulness began to fill me, a clang rapped at the front door. I opened my eyes and there she stood soaking wet with the biggest smile I’d ever seen on her face. I got up and ran to her as she opened the door. We both cried. Little did I know that she had suffered the exact same situation. A tornado had also touched down along the highway outside her office. 

From this very early age, I learned that life is a gift given that can quickly end in a flash.