Miracles and My Mother
Sounds of traffic, the loud conversations of the guests outside and the turmoil in my stomach awakened me early the next morning. It was supposed to be moving day for our family, but there were still many unanswered questions. Bill and I needed a plan. I went outside to talk with some of the misplaced people, many of whom hadn't slept all night. Shaking with trauma, anxious to see what was left of their homes, and drunk on caffeine, they'd anxiously awaited daylight so they could make it across town to salvage what they could.
Bill and the girls were up when I returned to our room. We thought to have a Wendy's breakfast, but the lines for food were a quarter mile long. Almost all the grocery stores and restaurants in town were damaged by the storm--refrigeration was out and shelves of goods were in very short supply already that morning. What we thought was, we'd get something on the way to the house. We found out too late that there was nothing available. Our plan was that the girls and I would go to the house and wait for the moving van, hoping beyond hope the driver was still alive. Bill went to his office, also on the southwest side of town, to check out what had happened there and to perhaps use the phone. There was no physical damage to the business, but it appeared the phones weren't operational. Just as Bill was about to leave, he noticed a blinking light in his peripheral vision--a phone line was lit up. There was no sound, just the blinking light. When he picked up the phone, it was our moving van driver! He was stuck on Highway 287, and the police wouldn't let him through without confirmation that he belonged to us and our home was still standing. Bill went to meet the driver, wondering at the miraculous coincidence of the serendipitous call.
While the girls and I were waiting for the drama of the day to play out, checking out the home for damage, praying for the safety of the driver, my mother and father showed up! They lived two hours away in Fort Worth, heard, of course, about the devastation of the night before, got in their car and made their way through traffic stops and debris to make sure we were alive and okay. I can't tell you how amazed we were to see them!
Mid-morning, the driver and Bill arrived. The driver had no one to help him. He was alone in the truck and couldn't wait to get the heck out of Wichita Falls. His anger toward me was palpable. No longer friendly banter as on the day we moved out of California. He'd almost been killed getting my stuff here and needed all of us to help him get our belongings off the truck so he could split. In the end, he paid my dad and Bill fifty dollars each for helping him. That, we thought, would be dinner. And we were so tired. Exhausted emotionally and physically. The girls had been troopers, but they hadn't eaten anything all day except the snacks we had with us. Of course, we thought we could go out in Wichita Falls. Of course, we were crazy. 20,000 people were homeless. Everything gone. The only things left were their foundations. All of them were at every single restaurant that was functional. The wait was hours long. We wound up in Bowie, a town along the route for my parents to get home and about an hour away. The wait there was still very long, and by the time we were served, there were very few options left. I don't even remember what we ate. It seemed like a dream I was wandering through.
The damage to our home was minimal. We'd lost several shingles. That's it. I couldn't get over how the monster tornado decided in some desultory state of mind to pick up one house and leave another perfectly intact. One home was there. One home wasn't. Then there were entire neighborhoods that simply didn't exist anymore. The bank down the street where we'd put our money the day before was now gone. Only the vault left standing. There was no grocery store, no fabric store, no ice cream parlor. They were taken up in the swirling wind and deposited elsewhere. The huge golf ball that was set on the tee at the golf range at the entrance to our subdivision was found over thirty miles away in Oklahoma!
The newer homes still unsold in our neighborhood were quickly purchased by any of the newly homeless who could afford them. Others moved in with relatives or rented wherever they could while their insurance claims were processed. It took a very long time for their lives to return to normal. And we built friendships with survivors who'd panic every time there was a thunderstorm.
Here's our Wichita Falls home today. Still has the trees I planted, now huge. It's weathered many more storms since we left Texas in 1986. But, by golly, it's still there!
Bottom Line: Homeowners insurance is a must, of course. Catastrophic insurance in areas prone to earthquake, fire and flooding should be a priority when purchasing a new home. Our insurance was in place at the close of escrow. If our home had blown away, we'd have had to rebuild, but it wouldn't have bankrupted us. Life is fragile and unpredictable. Anything can happen...and does. Be prepared.
Bill and the girls were up when I returned to our room. We thought to have a Wendy's breakfast, but the lines for food were a quarter mile long. Almost all the grocery stores and restaurants in town were damaged by the storm--refrigeration was out and shelves of goods were in very short supply already that morning. What we thought was, we'd get something on the way to the house. We found out too late that there was nothing available. Our plan was that the girls and I would go to the house and wait for the moving van, hoping beyond hope the driver was still alive. Bill went to his office, also on the southwest side of town, to check out what had happened there and to perhaps use the phone. There was no physical damage to the business, but it appeared the phones weren't operational. Just as Bill was about to leave, he noticed a blinking light in his peripheral vision--a phone line was lit up. There was no sound, just the blinking light. When he picked up the phone, it was our moving van driver! He was stuck on Highway 287, and the police wouldn't let him through without confirmation that he belonged to us and our home was still standing. Bill went to meet the driver, wondering at the miraculous coincidence of the serendipitous call.
While the girls and I were waiting for the drama of the day to play out, checking out the home for damage, praying for the safety of the driver, my mother and father showed up! They lived two hours away in Fort Worth, heard, of course, about the devastation of the night before, got in their car and made their way through traffic stops and debris to make sure we were alive and okay. I can't tell you how amazed we were to see them!
Mid-morning, the driver and Bill arrived. The driver had no one to help him. He was alone in the truck and couldn't wait to get the heck out of Wichita Falls. His anger toward me was palpable. No longer friendly banter as on the day we moved out of California. He'd almost been killed getting my stuff here and needed all of us to help him get our belongings off the truck so he could split. In the end, he paid my dad and Bill fifty dollars each for helping him. That, we thought, would be dinner. And we were so tired. Exhausted emotionally and physically. The girls had been troopers, but they hadn't eaten anything all day except the snacks we had with us. Of course, we thought we could go out in Wichita Falls. Of course, we were crazy. 20,000 people were homeless. Everything gone. The only things left were their foundations. All of them were at every single restaurant that was functional. The wait was hours long. We wound up in Bowie, a town along the route for my parents to get home and about an hour away. The wait there was still very long, and by the time we were served, there were very few options left. I don't even remember what we ate. It seemed like a dream I was wandering through.
The damage to our home was minimal. We'd lost several shingles. That's it. I couldn't get over how the monster tornado decided in some desultory state of mind to pick up one house and leave another perfectly intact. One home was there. One home wasn't. Then there were entire neighborhoods that simply didn't exist anymore. The bank down the street where we'd put our money the day before was now gone. Only the vault left standing. There was no grocery store, no fabric store, no ice cream parlor. They were taken up in the swirling wind and deposited elsewhere. The huge golf ball that was set on the tee at the golf range at the entrance to our subdivision was found over thirty miles away in Oklahoma!
The newer homes still unsold in our neighborhood were quickly purchased by any of the newly homeless who could afford them. Others moved in with relatives or rented wherever they could while their insurance claims were processed. It took a very long time for their lives to return to normal. And we built friendships with survivors who'd panic every time there was a thunderstorm.
Bottom Line: Homeowners insurance is a must, of course. Catastrophic insurance in areas prone to earthquake, fire and flooding should be a priority when purchasing a new home. Our insurance was in place at the close of escrow. If our home had blown away, we'd have had to rebuild, but it wouldn't have bankrupted us. Life is fragile and unpredictable. Anything can happen...and does. Be prepared.
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