The Best Easter Ever
Like George Burns used to say, “I’m happy to be here. Of course, at my age, I’m happy to be anywhere.” We’re not that old, but we are happy to be here — or anywhere, for that matter.
A severe tornado hit us on Good Friday, around 7:30 in the evening. We’d never been through one before. The warning sirens had been sounding all day, so we weren’t paying much attention to them anymore. All of a sudden, the wind got real loud and there was no doubt what it was. We made it down the steps to a safer spot just before the lights went out.
Most of our trees are down, but the house is relatively unscathed. Homes just down the street were obliterated. No one killed, amazingly enough.
It’s been like Mardi Gras for mutants ever since — a steady stream of people walking by in shock, emergency vehicles galore, storm chasers looking to make a quick buck, cars turning around in our driveway every 30 seconds because the road’s blocked off at the corner.
The whole family’s been working in the yard all day long every day, cutting up trees and dragging branches out to the street for the cleanup crews. With just one handsaw and a pair of clippers, we might have gotten discouraged, but the neighbors on both sides hopped over the fence with chainsaws to help out.
We just got power & phone back yesterday morning. If not for the contractor who lives next door, we’d still be out. He and an electrician friend reconnected the meter, mast, and weatherhead that had been torn from the house; without those in place, the utility company would not have hooked us up again and we would still be in the dark. He also reconnected our phone line long before the phone company showed up. And he ran us a line from his generator the morning after the storm, so we were able to keep the fridge going and charge cell phones in the meantime.
It’ll take weeks, maybe months, to clear up the backyard, and the place will never look the same. It was very private before and now is very open. Perhaps that’s what we need.
We couldn’t cook for Easter, so one of our daughters and her boyfriend took our food to his dad’s kitchen (he’s a caterer), cooked everything, brought it back to us in a hotbox, and we ate by candle light. It was the best Easter ever.
