Hurricane Ivan's Tornado. Sept 17, 2004.

To this day, the speed limit sign in Meadow Ridge stands bent by the wind and it is the first thing you see when you pull into our neighborhood.

The collapse of the western economy was four years away, and we didn't know it, but we felt the twangs of foreshadowing even if Ben Stein said we had nothing to worry about on CBS' Sunday Morning. That week in September, my old company, RBM Construction Co, Inc. was between houses so I took the guys up to the Rockingham County Gun Club to work on a shelter the club was building. I was just keeping them busy.


The thing is, there was the remnants of this hurricane blasting around us and over us as we worked, and since there wasn't any rain, we didn't think twice about it. Except for the strangely low and swirling clouds, you'd never know it was a singular weather event--we sure didn't, until the radio's music was broken by the National Weather Services' screechy alert.


We all laughed and yelled, "Aye yi yi!" as if we were gonna die unless we split. But then the alerts kept coming. And they weren't tests. They were real events, and they were real close to home. Then my cell phone rang and Lisa was hysterically telling me that she thought a tornado had just swirled down our street. I couldn't believe it at first, but here was Lisa and the national Weather Service telling me tornadoes were sweeping around Stokesdale, NC. I mean, they called us out by name.


Needless to say, we left. On the phone with Lisa at times, and chit chatting with the guys in the truck, (I had driven, so they had all met at my house and parked all over the yard) I drove home looking for damage--it wasn't the first after disaster I'd driven to--but didn't see anything. The gun club's a good 36 miles from home. So we didn't expect much until we passed the Stokesdale water tower...then we thought we'd see some carnage, but really we didn't. That is, until further toward home, on Highway 68 south, there was little tree pushed over in someone's yard.


We all kinda laughed and rolled our eyes--a tempest in a tea pot. Then Lisa got through again, and said a Sheriff's deputy wasn't letting anyone in our development, and I thought that's odd. One of the guy's car had taken a hit from our basketball goal and had a busted window. "Rasta" didn't take it too well and sat in sulky silence the rest of the ride. Apparently, we hadn't seen nothin' yet. We turned off the highway and soon enough saw what Lisa had described. A cop, blocking my way to home. What I thought was going to be a bad day made worse by a hard-headed deputy was quickly eased with a quick license check, and off we went to loop around our hood.


It wasn't pretty.


There were leaves all over the place, and little things from peoples' porches and yards were strewn about. The street we were on, Haw Meadows Dr. runs parallel to our street, Tall Meadows Dr., and when we got even closer to the intersection (OK, it ain't exact parallel) of the two, we saw this.

pulled right out

It's a Leonard!

Same driveway and house on the corner of Haw and Tall Meadows. Looks like the wind just sucked the door out.


The thing that freaked me out the most is that both of the kids were home from school that day supposedly sick. Lisa had opened the door to the garage to close the roll down door , but was blown back into the house on her butt. Of course, by then, Jaime, Emily, and the dog of-the-times, Molly, had scampered into the hall closet to ride it out. Lisa said it was raining so hard at the time, that she never saw a funnel, nor was even sure that a tornado had been by until she finally looked out front.


Now coming down our street in the truck, to our right was most of the damage, and to the left, was mostly just shingles and trees and chairs that had been pulled to the neighbors across the street by the F1 tornado.

Mooshed house and neighbor's roof in yard.

The Dubach's house. I didn't frame it. This is before everyone showed up to gawk and help. This house is diagonally across the street from ours. The tree between the house straight across flopped over onto the roof.

Mooshed house.

The poor people were at work I guess. Later, before anything could be draped over their house, the ceilings collapsed from the rain and the basement flooded as well. To this day, I wonder if the people living there now know their house was mooshed a little bit, then flooded.


The house directly across from us, didn't fare much better to be honest. When I got home, an entire piece of plywood over the front "porch" had blown off and a hunk out of the roof on the back corner had been removed. That's all their OSB you see in the yard of the Dubach's house. I did frame that house, and as soon as I could, I got on the roof and helped Kevan Comb's dad try and save the ceiling with an old discarded billboard--the big vinyl kind--using it like a giant tarp.

The Missing Sheet.

The back hip, pulled right out.

I took this photo before the hordes arrived. It was one of the first digital photos I ever took with my 150 dollar Kodak. Anyway, I did frame this house, and when I nailed the missing piece of plywood back into the roof, I saw exactly why it had blown off. The lazy ass help I used back when we framed it had only nailed down as far as they could reach without stepping out from inside, which was only about half way down! No wonder the wind got under it and yanked it off.

That's my ladder!

To the left here is Kevan Comb's dad trying to keep the billboard from blowing off, but it was too late, while we were up there, we kept hearing parts of the ceiling collapse from the weight of the rain. While I was up on the peak, the ridge, I looked down and saw scrawled onto the top of the two by ten, in crummy, red-necked handwriting, "Fuck Brett Mothershead." No kidding! I laughed and poked Kevan's dad and said, "Look! that's me, Brett Mothershead!" True story.






At our house, the back twin window of the bonus room was pulled in and most everything loose and small in the room was sucked out through the eaves out front. A passel of canceled checks and papers and a wall clock that to this day we haven't seen again were pulled through the overhang. Even some things from the garage were pulled across the street into the neighbors' yard including our garbage and Jaime's batting helmet and a ball.

Jaime's ball and batting helmet across the street.

Later, of course, "they" came to look and help followed by the local media. There was a rush of gawkers and locals with chainsaws and even a backhoe. It was a steady stream. Even the Red Cross showed up to hand out sandwiches and bottles of water to the guys that were working. I felt like I had done my part, picking up my garbage and tax papers and climbing on the roof in the rain, so I stepped back and let the willing do all the work.


It got bad as the week went by. Our house was pretty untouched. The blown in windows were tilt sashes and it was easy to pop them back in. The only thing I had to work on was the soffit out front that got poofed out. By the middle of the following week, I was trimming hedges to keep an eye on things, but it looked like I was recovering from the storm so I was still able to soak up free water and ham sandwiches from the Red Cross.

Standing between my yard and my neighbors looking right.

Well I was thankful that no one was killed or really hurt. For some reason, tornadoes follow the women on Lisa's side of the family. Stoneville had a whopper chopper tornado that really tore up the town and killed two people before this one struck us. It also ripped the roof off my mother-in-law's house which makes me think that the Cain/Disher women are cursed--but--we've had our tornado, and thus need never worry about it again? Anyway, that's another story....

The curious and my father-in-law.

Jaime was even interviewed by Frank Mickens and some chick from Fox8, but for the life of me, I can't remember her name--but her face looked dipped in chocolate. I'd meet people a couple years later, and when they'd hear my last name they'd interrupt me and ask, "Do you have a son named Jaime? I think I saw him on TV..."


Hey! Much to his credit, he never said, "It sounded like a freight train!" And for that I'll always be thankful.

That guy killed his grass--not the twister.

It seems Jaime was the mastermind behind the seeking shelter in the hall closet. Molly had followed on her own volition, but to hear Lisa tell it, it was Jaime who dragged Emily in there while Lisa was peeking out the windows and getting blown on her ass in the garage!

Slack-jawed gawkers.

I wish I'd been at home when it hit because I'd have gotten a picture of the twister.

That's my truck stage left, and note the plywood back in it's place.

Looking past...

By the time this picture was taken, there were plenty of people to do anything your heart would desire.

They all started taking trees out, just 'cause.

That's when I was resolved to put the drive-byer's to work. I'd grab on or two and get them to help me lift heavy stuff or mow, or wash my truck. All it took was a point to my over-turned trash can and they were putty in my hands so to speak. I'll never forget the old man who helped me load a compressor into the back of my truck. I could see the look of disbelief as he got out of his Ford and stooped to help me lift the thing. It was fun to watch someone have that kind of out of body experience, and it might have been as close as a cult following as I've ever had! I might try again later.






There was one man, on tireles soul (with the backhoe) who worked as hard as any white man would (for free) that I have ever seen. And what cut him from the crowd, what made him singular was the silver of his hair that he had cut in the most regal mullet.

The Silver Mullet.

Looking back at my house from Pond Court.

Jim Dubach...that was his condemned house.

Frank!

The Booms.

In the strangest of coincidences, I had a guy named Ivan (ee-BAHN) working with us. So for the rest of my life, I'll pronounce the name of the hurricane that spawned the tornado with a Chilango accent--or at least I'll try. Earlier that week, Ivan had cut the letters to spell his name out of flashing tape and had stuck them on the back of his sweatshirt, and when we got home to the mess, he walked around looking at the wreckage proudly sporting the name of the storm. It dawned on me finally and he took it off, but for a few moments, he looked like one insensitive bastard.

Well the pictures tell more of the story than I can. So suffice it to say it was rather exciting around here for a few days, and we all had plenty to talk about for weeks and weeks. This neighborhood has had its share of interesting times for sure, and in fact, It reminds me of one of my favorite sayings: Never a dull moment.

Today, everything is just fine of course. Sadly, we're one of the few families still here. They call homes like ours "transitional" for a reason, and gone is the nod we had when we'd see each other this time of year, or at a super-bowl party. The quiet strangers we see now probably don't even know.

All is well now. That's my driveway!