Most lifelong Oklahomans have an almost eerie extrasensory perception when it comes to storms. The truth is that it started to feel wrong on Saturday. The wind went still while the sun and humidity closed in. Moving around outside, doing anything, caused you to sweat and labor in the heavy air.That evening I texted a friend and told him the skies were starting to look snakey.
By Sunday afternoon the meteorologists were on the local channels constantly, their radars flaring with brilliant shades of red, orange, and yellow. It had been a quiet spring up until that moment when it came to the big storms, the killers. At that point, however two "super cells" had bloomed and were moving from the southwest to the northeast which is never a good sign. One was north in the Edmond area. It dangled in the air menacingly as the sirens wailed, but the damage ended up being minimal until it reached the small Lincoln County community of Carney, which is nearly a third of the way to Tulsa. It shredded the town mercilessly and then disappeared back into the sky.
The second, on the southeast end of the metro began ripping through rural areas until it reached the outskirts of Shawnee, 30 or so miles east of Oklahoma City. One of the many local derogatory terms for a mobile home park is, "tornado magnate." True to the cliche a neighborhood just west of Shawnee called Steelman Estates took a direct hit. The local newspaper described the area as "a mix of mobile homes and brick dwellings." By the time it was over two were dead and Steelman Estates, for all practical purposes, had ceased to exist.
As the line of storms moved off to the east the TV anchors warned ominously that the weather would still be ripe for violence on Monday. Yesterday, the local daily, The Oklahoman, ran a head line that said, "It took it all." Below it was a photo of two ancient women hugging in front of a demolished house in Carney.
Monday morning began as cloudy and seemingly a tad cooler, however the humidity was still there. By mid-morning the clouds were breaking up and the temperature began to spike. Around 1:30pm or so the weathermen and their radars were back on TV. It was all too familiar. Huge storm cells were southwest of Oklahoma City and appeared to be marching straight up Interstate 44. As time wore on the warnings became shriller. There were radar indications of massive and destructive hail and powerful lightning strikes.
Then finally there were the tell tale "hook echos" of two tornadoes. One, further north was moving toward the airport in southwest Oklahoma City and its predicted track would lead it straight into the heart of the north side of town. The second was hovering further south and to the east a bit, near the small town of Newcastle.
As things intensified the northern storm began to dissipate because, as one meteorologist said, "the storm cell to the south is stealing all the energy from it." He went so far as to say, "This is good news." Little did he know.
For what seemed like the longest time it just sat down there, as if it was stoking itself up into a rage before charging into Moore, which abuts the south side of Oklahoma City. Finally it began to move and as it did it widened to unfathomable size and ferocity. Words like monster and beast don't even begin to describe it. Storm sirens began to howl throughout the metro area.
Incredibly we'd seen it all before. Back in 1999 on May 3rd a similar storm rampaged through Moore and beyond, leaving a swath of incomprehensible destruction. It was the stuff of legend. The technology of the day recorded it's winds at 318 miles per hour. It is, for the time being any way, the highest wind speed ever recorded on the planet earth. This one was just as horrific. So much so that the NBC affiliate's meteorologist told people in its path that if they couldn't get below ground they needed to load up in their cars and run from it. I have lived in this state for all but five of my 63 years and I've never heard that particular piece of advice before.
Within minutes huge chunks of the town of Moore, Oklahoma, population 56,000, became either airborne or splintered and twisted, beyond recognition. The swirl of debris surrounding the tornado was nearly two miles in diameter. The storm moved east, north east and not very far beyond the city limits, TV cameras showed it weaken and disappear. It didn't dramatically raise back into the clouds. This great and terrible force of nature simply fizzled out and fell apart in matter of moments. It was if it quietly said, "I'm done now. Pardon my mess."
The photos of Moore show a blasted landscape. In some neighborhoods all that is left are streets, driveways, and the concrete slabs where houses once stood. Mud is everywhere because the grass itself was sucked up into the vortex.
Confusion, rumors, and conflicting reports have run rampant. By yesterday evening 51 were supposed to be dead. Then it jumped to 91. By this morning it was back down to 24. At least seven of those are elementary students caught in their school which was leveled. Unconfirmed word is that they had made it to a cellar in time but they became trapped and drowned there.
Today it is much cooler with what is called more "stable air." Be that it as it may, the talking heads and their radars are back on the television. A line of severe thunderstorms looms west of the Oklahoma City metro. According to their projected time line it should reach here in about thirty minutes.
The headline in today's edition of The Oklahoman reads, "Worse Than May 3rd."
Well, if it wasn't it will do until another one comes along that is. And one will. This is, after all, Oklahoma. You know, the place where, as the song says, the wind comes sweeping down the plains.
5-21-13
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