Tornado

What's currently happening across the central states, like in Branson, Missouri, is devastating to people.

Way back in the 40's when tornadoes were scarce where I lived, they were viewed with a fascination bordering on an unscheduled school lesson in my family.

This was just after The Wizard of Oz and Judy Garland came out in `39.

When a tornado passed through our area, it's all anyone talked about for days.

I couldn't get it in my head how a tornado worked, because I was barely five years old.

So Dad took some of us to the spot the tornado hit the worst, leveling an entire farm - the house, the barn, and every shed and tree within sight.

At first, I wondered why he pulled off the road onto the shoulder, because all I could see out the car window were empty fields that went on forever.

"There it is," he said, and pointed.

There wasn't anything there. I don't know what I expected to see, but I didn't expect to see nothing.

But there was something - the cement foundation, the outline of it shaping the house. The basement was full of stuff so it was level to the ground.

I wandered around the foundation and told Dad how small the house looked, and he said it was bigger than it seemed.

I couldn't believe how sad it must be for the family that lost it all.

The massive tornadoes today are amazing compared to then. So must be the sorrow that follows in their paths.

The power of air is maybe bigger than anything else, and it's something you can't even see or feel, unless it's on the move or dirtied up with pollution.