And the Wall Fell Down

The day the wall fell down.

I remember the big tornado of 1952 when the Chevrolet Garage lost the wall between it and Hugh Dixon’s International Harvester dealership. It was a Friday according to the calendar so I know not for what reason Donnieta and I were at Ma Ma and Pa Maberry’s house. It must have been that school was out or perhaps we were instructed to go there for safety since tornados had swept across the southeastern states causing deaths in several states, particularly Arkansas. What ever the reason that is were we were on March 21, 1952 and there was never a living soul more afraid of storms than Ma Ma. When the sky began to darken in the direction of town and lightening started to crackle she began looking for somewhere to stuff her 8 year old grandson and 12 year old granddaughter. While she was suggesting, with a touch of hysteria in her voice, that Donnieta and I get under the bed for safety, the two of us were looking out the windows trying to avoid missing any of the action. As we looked at the trees bending and cracking before the strong straight line winds that preceded the tornado, a sudden blinding flash of lighten immediately accompanied by a deafening boom of thunder, nearly knocked us over backward. We were struck as blind as Saul on the Damascus Road by the brilliance of the lightening. When our eyes cleared enough to gain sight, steam and smoke were rising from an aged apple tree between the house and the 50 or so feet to the upright silo. The tree was split from top to bottom by the lightening strike and every fuse in the house had been burned out by the surge of electricity Mother Nature had sent our way. The actual tornado hit the Chevrolet Dealership knocking out its south most wall and piling up the bricks and lumber like a wrecking ball had been used on the building. I am told that Mr. Roscoe Maggart was standing near the plate glass showroom window and a large shard of glass split his coat down the back but caused him no physical harm.
The tornado is said to have “come over the bluff” and touched down on the dealership destroying the wall in a heartbeat. It apparent continued in a line that would have included the elementary school but apparently had lifted and was not touching ground at the time.
The tornado touched down again on the turner farm where Ma Ma and Pa lived striking our tractor shed, destroying one side and leaving the others in tact. Pieces of galvanized tin roof were removed from the barn and were recovered a mile or so away near the Cumberland River.
Ma Ma never got Donnieta and I under that bed on March 21st of 1952, but she never forgot the incident and Pa, who had been in the barn during the destruction, soon built a concrete block storm cellar which was half buried in the ground and the exposed portion was covered with dirt on three sides and the fourth side sealed by a heavy door. From that day on, approaching storms meant going into the storm cellar which soon became overrun by spiders and creepy crawlers of all shape and description. I considered spending 45 minutes in the storm cellar much more of a danger, based on the creatures inside, than risking being blown away in the storm. In those days however, little boys did not get a vote and the storm cellar is where I went.
Today, Lisa Patton would be telling us that the tornado is expected to drop over the bluff at 5:17 and everyone could run for cover. According to the records I looked at, this day was the third worst day for weather deaths on record with tornados in six or seven southern states and a blizzard striking the Midwest. We would all go to our safe place and expect to escape the wrath of one of the most destructive forces in nature, but as we learned, even with the marvels of computer modeling, Doppler radar, and minute by minute broadcasting, nothing can totally protect us from harm in this world.
I guess the message is that this world truly is not our home and try as we might with high technology and mental knowhow, we cannot shape it into a heaven. With all that being true, we would be smart to prepare our lives as sojourners in the land who are “just a passing through” with an eye to a beautiful place hidden “above the bright blue” or perhaps hidden above a gray and stormy sky.