The Southeast faced a grim tornado forecast. And we were in its crosshairs.
How grim? Storm chaser Reed Timmer arrived with all three of his Dominator chase vehicles, tornado filmmaker Sean Casey cruised near Tupelo, Jim Cantore mentioned Mississippi repeatedly and Jackson’s Weather Channel Tor Con number was a nine out of 10. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse cruising down I-55.
Unfortunately, the forecast was right. April 28, 2014 turned out to be a bad day. A very bad day. A day that carved its name into the record books with a deadly combination of brutal wind, rain and blood.
Louisville, Tupelo, Brandon, Richland, Pearl, Gluckstadt, Canton, Lake Caroline, and Vicksburg all suffered devastating damage. Every time a thunderstorm would form, it would drop a long-track, wedge tornado. We watched helplessly as radar-indicated hook echoes stalked our towns. Television meteorologists barely got time to take a breath (when they weren’t having to run for cover themselves). We ducked and covered. We prayed. It was a day when Mother Nature showed us who’s boss.
As dawn broke on Wednesday, the true scope of the damage raised its ugly head: The blown-out Winston County Medical Center. Bob Boyte Honda’s collapsed roof. Damage to homes and businesses in North Tupelo. The crumpled mobile home park in Pearl. Roofs in Lake Caroline peeled off. Cars tossed like toys. Trees snapped. Steel bent. Homes destroyed. And tragically, precious lives lost.
We go through life dumb and happy until a storm like this punches us in the mouth. Days like Tuesday remind us that our lives can change in a heartbeat.
Mississippi took a beating. A very bad one. But before the sky could clear, we did what we always do. We began helping each other recover.
We did it after Hurricane Katrina. We did it during the Mississippi River flood. We did it after the Smithville and Yazoo City tornados.
I’ve joked that before you can crawl out of the rubble, there will be a church van full of people with chainsaws and casseroles. There’s a lot of truth to it. It’s why we’re constantly the most generous state. It’s one area where we have empathy. We know disaster and how to recover from it.
Today, the pictures in the newspapers, online and on television look grim. Lives and wreckage are scattered randomly on the ground. But the healing has already begun. We’re donating food and clothing. We’re giving blood. We’re helping with the clean-up. Checks are being written. Friends and family are being lifted up. We’ll get through this disaster. We always do. Because while we’re powerless in the face of nature, we’re very powerful when it comes to compassion.
People around the country sometimes challenge me to say something good about Mississippi. My answer? Compassion in the face of disaster.
Because in Mississippi, when things get bad, we get good.
Well said. One of the many traits I count when being thankful for being a Southerner, we all look out for one another when something like this happens, without being asked. It’s just what we do.