ONE ORDINARY DAY
by Susan Keen
The day began as many other days had begun. The fact that we, my brother and sister and I, were in a new apartment just rented did not make the day unique. This was the seventh place we'd unpacked boxes in the last eight years. Though there was a newness, it was nothing new.
It was a second floor apartment in a house on a street called Pennsylvania Avenue in Crescent Hill (Louisville, KY). You had to climb a somewhat narrow wooden staircase from the front porch entrance to get to the upstairs apartment. Our china cabinet still stood at the bottom in the space between the door and where the stairs began. At the top you turned to go up more stairs, dark brown wooden stairs. The same wood floor stretched perpendicular in a hallway leading to each room we believed we were to live in for several months or a year or more. The hallway lead to rooms except that just to the left of the stairway another hall ran perpendicular to the first. At the end of this hall was a window at which no curtains had yet been hung. To the side of the window was a door leading to a third level attic in which little had yet been stored.
The three of us were home alone with the boxes, my brother Eric, my sister Ruthie, and myself. It was April 3, 1974, almost three months before my fourteenth birthday. Mom and Dad were at the old house picking up things from closets and top shelves and doing a little cleaning I suppose. They had been gone for several hours. Eric had played basketball at the alley hoop behind the garage earlier that morning. I had walked the side and back yard trying to get the feel of the new place. The air had been somewhat sticky for an early April day. Sticky, gray, and still. But not knowing to think it unusual I thought nothing. We were back inside now.
Ruthie and I were lazily pulling items from boxes when we heard Eric yell, "Hey, girls, ya wanna see a tornado?"
We jumped up quickly, our lethargy forgotten, and scrambled out of our shared bedroom to see Eric at the end of the hall with the window motioning to us to hurry.
"Look at this!" he shouted, pointing excitedly over the rooftops of the houses lined perfectly between us and Frankfort Avenue where the large water tower stood tall and erect. I could already feel my heart pounding as we ran to look at what had gotten Eric's attention. What I saw was a terrifyingly huge, black cloud that seemed to be swirling, hurtling down out of the sky.
"What is that?" I asked in awe, spellbound.
"It's a tornado!" Eric shouted.
Within seconds we realized our danger, and in the next split second panic set in. We had no time to escape to a lower level since in order to do so we would have to go outside before we could get back in to a safer place!
"Let's get outta here!" Eric yelled.
We ran almost tripping over each other to find some semblance of safety. My entire body was shaking, such was the panic and terror that gripped me. We stumbled around the corner of Ruthie's and my bedroom, it being at the centermost part of the apartment.
The sudden horrendous roar we heard let us know we had no time. All we could do was huddle on the floor, our arms around each other and pray. Sheer, stark terror overcame any pride as I began begging God to save us. The sound of a train crashed through my brain, and then, glass shattered in on this deafening nightmare that engulfed us as the windows imploded and the entire house shook. As one our bodies trembled and cowered with only a wall and a prayer to protect us.
Within moments a deathly, quiet stillness surrounded us. Hardly able to pull ourselves up from our squatting positions we slowly rose to stare at the broken shards of glass and debris that were everywhere. A soft breeze blew mockingly in through the jagged holes where panes of glass had just been. In shock we slowly began walking through the apartment to find amazingly only broken glass, dirt, and debris. Except for the gripping fear that would remain with me for years we had been remarkably untouched by this raging lion that had screamed through our ordinary day. Slowly step by methodical step as if still checking for our safety we made our way down the steps to the outside where a silent chaotic scene would greet us as if to further shake what had already been shaken. A giant oak tree lay uprooted across the front yard leaving an ugly gaping hole in the ground where not five minutes before it had stood tall, massive; its roots reaching deep within the earth. A red Ford Pinto was upside down on its roof in the street and the houses around looked like doll houses made for a giant child's hands to easily reach in to move furniture around at will.
As we looked down the street the devastation of the storm's indescriminate molestation met our eyes. The avenue that had been neatly lined with huge, ancient trees and sturdy old homes looked as though some giant ferocious dog had picked it up at one end with its teeth and shaken it madly letting the broken pieces fall where they may.A heavy deceiving calmness lay like a blanket, resting down on our shoulders. As we began moving in slow motion down the street, wondering that we were alive, our thoughts turned to Mom and Dad. Where were they? Did they know of the devastation that had just ravaged through our lives? Were they safe? We had no answers.
Others began to emerge from battered, falling down houses. Some were crying, some were silent. But all were unified, sharing in the horrifying aftermath of this wicked storm that had so arrogantly ripped through or lives.
As Eric, Ruthie, and I began to slowly make our way up the littered street we passed houses that had been flattened. We later learned that the occupants of the flattened houses had not been home. Fresh relief flooded my consciousness that we had been saved, but apprehension and fear immediately interceded. The sound of sirens screamed a new fear. Were more storms coming? I stared at the pale green menacing sky while a feeling of dread enveloped me.
We reached Frankfort Avenue and looked up at the water tower, still standing. The ordinarily busy road was awash with policemen, relief workers, paramedics, and volunteers. It seemed that everyone was out wandering; some in shock, some wanting to help victims, all sharing in the horror around us.
Some time later we saw our older brother Dan and his wife Margie coming toward us. They had an apartment on the other side of town. They'd had to park some miles away and walk to us. Clearly they had been distraught. Relief flooded their faces when they saw us. We returned to the house to leave a note for Mom and Dad before leaving to go to Dan and Margie's apartment. I remember the words Eric wrote - 'Everyone is A OK. We went to Dan's'. We later found out that by the time Mom and Dad reached the house it was dark and with no electricity they never saw the note. It was several hours before we saw them. They showed up at Dan's around 10:00 p.m.
The impact of this 'ordinary' day left its indelible mark on me. For years windy days terrified me. A notification of a tornado watch always found me cowering in a center room praying for God to quiet the storm. Today, though my fears are for the most part subdued, I have a tremendous respect for and even fascination of tornadoes.
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