Jul 01 2009
Small Town Life
Recently my husband and I moved with our three children to a small and rural town in the-middle-of-nowhere, KS. Population? Under 800. No Walmart Supercenters here, no malls, no movie theaters, no McDonalds; just common people, your mom and pop grocery store, and some small local businesses. Oh, and they just put in a Pizza Hut. Things are looking up in the world! It was a jump, a leap of faith if you will, not to mention a really, really, big change.
I was scared at first, not just of the small town, but of Kansas. You know, Dorothy, Toto, a little something called a tornado? We had spent the majority of our lives in the state of Utah in the Salt Lake Valley, which happens to run parallel to the wonderful Rocky Mountains. I had always felt relatively safe there, no impending natural disasters to speak of, so I never really worried about such things as Mother Nature is capable of. Watching the news I would see reports of the hurricanes on the east coast, the wildfires on the west coast, and the tornadoes smack in the middle. I liked Utah, I thought. I was, well, comfortable there. But, the job situation just wasn’t working out, and it seemed that the only feasible offer on the table was, of all the least likely of places I would have chosen to live; Kansas.
Tornadoes! It sent a chill up my spine. The scary thing about these angry spiraling funnel clouds was that they could strike anywhere, at any time, all it takes is the right conditions. I like predictability. At least with the hurricanes, you know when they’re coming. But not with these swirling disasters. Oh sure, the weather service can provide a warning of the likelihood and general area one can develop. Bah! Who trusts the weather anymore?
We drove into town in the late evening, the sun had gone down, and all I could see as the town came into view was the gleaming of a small group of lights. If you drive into the Salt Lake Valley at night, the lights seem to go on forever. Not here. A bundle of lights, and then, nothingness. Oh boy, I thought, as I took a deep breath. Here we go.
The home we had reserved to rent was a late 1800’s edition, a quaint little cottage style, complete with creaks and drafty old windows. But, after two days of driving with whiney, over tired children, it was a welcome sight. As we began bringing in the suitcases, I noticed how quiet it was. No sirens, no freeway sounds, no “boom” cars going by. Just a pleasant breeze and a beautiful, calm, quiet.
The next morning, as we unloaded the moving van, cars intermittently drove by, and complete strangers were waving at me. I turned around to peer behind me, and, nope, there wasn’t someone behind me. How strange, I thought. And yet, it just felt natural to wave back.
At noon, a siren sounded. Not a police or a firetruck siren. One of those, “doom is heading your way” sirens. The only other time I had ever heard a siren like that was on a military base, and it was used to warn of incoming enemy aircraft. Here, it’s used to warn of incoming tornadoes. I ran into the house, my heart pounding, eyes wide, and then, it stopped. Come to find out, the city tests the alarm every day at noon. We discovered this the following day, when it sounded at noon again, on the dot. I’ll never forget the expressions of three, panicked children making record time into the house. Well, at least I would always know when it was lunch time.
To be continued….
