Storm brings back memories

This week's serious tornado outbreak in the mid-South brought back memories for me from when I was sixteen years old. I remember well the massive tornadoes of April 3, 1974 (there is a website commemorating that night at http://www.april31974.com/) that greatly affected the area where we lived. I remember as we drove toward Moulton seeing a huge, oddly-colored green cloud, and my dad saying that something was very serious about that cloud. We couldn't see the actual funnel, but the cloud itself was ominous. I remember getting to church and the power being off; then reports started coming in, of the couple from our church who died as they were running to the storm cellar, of their son who was seriously injured, of the mother who died on the ground as she laid on top of her child but she was hit with a two-by-four missile, of the families who died as their homes exploded around them. I remember watching TV with Mark late that night when Mom and Dad were gone to the hospital to visit the injured boy, them not realizing that another round of storms was on its way to our area, and I remember thinking that Mark would laugh at me if I said we needed to wake up our sisters. I remember the weatherman saying "Take cover--a tornado is headed for southwest Decatur!" And there we sat, the girls asleep in their rooms. We just didn't recognize the danger. The tornado hit about five miles away.

In the succeeding days, I remember school being out because of power outages, trees down everywhere, and devastation of homes and property, especially in the outlying areas. I remember playing the piano for a family of four that died in the storm when their home exploded while they were getting ready for church. We did not know them but they were related to someone we did know, and they needed a pianist for the funeral. Four caskets were lined up in front of the church. I remember playing the piano at the service for the couple that we knew that was killed. The caskets were open and there was a viewing for an hour before the funeral. The piano was located in such a way that I could see the deceased woman's swollen face, and the reaction of everyone who saw her, for the full hour of visitation as I quietly played hymns.

On Sunday night after the Wednesday tornado outbreak, as we were driving home, we took a detour through the town of Trinity to see the damage there. One of us, I don't remember if it was me or one of my sisters, burst into tears: "I don't want to see any more tornado damage!" My dad turned the car back onto the main road and we went home.