As in Joplin and Memphis, life in Western Massachusetts can change in an instant.
A series of fast-moving tornadoes carrying winds of over 90 mph Wednesday gave Western Massachusetts residents a terrifying glimpse of what their Midwestern neighbors have been experiencing last month.
And as it was in Joplin and Memphis; Raleigh and Tuscaloosa; along the Missouri and the Mississippi, everything changed in a minute.
One minute the clouds darken and the radio waves crackle with storm warnings. One minute faculty and staff at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst are told to descend to the lowest point in their buildings; the next minute, the cloud is spotted over the Connecticut River in Springfield. People who never gave a thought to what they might do in a tornado are trying to remember whether it is safer in the bathtub or the basement.
Meanwhile a tractor-trailer on the Memorial Bridge is suddenly overturned. A community center is minus a roof and the MassMutual Center, which last week hosted a college graduation, is now settling evacuees from the entire South End of the city. A tree that once sheltered a backyard pool is now in the pool. A grill has been tossed from one yard to another as if it were a feather. Power lines and downed limbs are everywhere.
In a minute.
And in the next minutes comes the response. Police and fire stations empty into the streets as emergency workers call their families to say that no one will be home for dinner anytime soon. The newsroom hums with a frenzy as reporters and photographers are sent throughout the city to record the first-hand accounts of people who never expected to see a journalist in their living room, but who never expected to see a tree limb there either. Editors directing the coverage from the city room listen to the street names over the police scanner wondering if their house might have been hit by the funnel cloud and frantically call to check on loved ones.
Meanwhile civilian attention turns to the Internet, the television, the radio, and the cell phone, all of which suddenly seem maddeningly slow. Friends and family are checked on and checked off. Adrenaline rises, then falls, then rises again as the disembodied voice on the scanner says that another touchdown could come within minutes.
Minutes.
And with a journalist’s precision, we mourn the one known fatality, the injuries and the damages which are still being tallied. Tornado strength is measured on an F-scale from F-0 to F-5. We won’t know for days the category of Wednesday’s tornadoes but already it was sufficient for Gov. Deval L. Patrick to declare a state of emergency and call up 1,000 National Guard troops. And we can only try to comprehend what Joplin’s enhanced F-5 tornado – killing more than 125 people and injuring 900 others – must have been like. In Joplin, homes are gone forever, furniture and photographs are scattered for miles. People start picking up the pieces and amazingly most say how lucky they feel.
Their life has changed in a minute, and their recovery will last for years. Some of our neighbors will also doubtless need our help and understanding as they cope with their injuries, property loss and psychological damage.
We are grateful, we sympathize, and we reach out to our neighbors, amid the realization that everything can change in a minute.