Coward or Courageous?

Last night I was comfortably ensconced in the Garden City, KS WalMart parking lot, Tillie (my van/home) parked on a nice flat spot, my shoes off, feet up, watching a movie I had downloaded earlier when I received a disconcerting text message from my Kansas friend:

"R u safe? Storms heading your way within an hour! Storm system coming from the west of you. Tornado warnings in Lakin..." 

I grabbed my iPad and checked weather radar, finding that she was not exaggerating the dire circumstances. Living in a "turtle" can be an advantage in times like this. I peeled off Tillie the Turtle's "nightshades" and jumped into the driver's seat, and skedaddled south, out of the path of the storm.

Lightning flashes lit up the sky when I peeked in my rearview mirrors. I could also see the ominous thunderclouds barreling down on Garden City. Feeling like a chicken, I ran. Better a live chicken than a dead one I reasoned. 

Having just the day before visited the jaw dropping display of the EF5 tornado that wiped nearby Greensburg off the map in 2007, I wanted nothing to do with being in the path of one. I experienced lots of guilt pangs thinking of the few people I knew in GC, and those I'm connected to by virtue of my humanity. Would the city be erased? Would people be killed? What would happen to my lot-lizard mates in the WM parking lot? 

With each flash I saw bits of the eerily moon-like landscape. The bowling-alley-straight pavement was helpful as strong gusts of winds blasted me and the few others escaping southward. Carnival-like lighting decorated the oblivious cattle-carrying semis heading northward.  

This area was desolate; flickers of light from silos and oil storage tanks the only signs of life. Oh yeah, and a neon blue cross on a building reminding me of the Christian warning of death’s power over us sinners. Not now, Jesus, not now, as I barreled hell-bent toward the unknown.

I knew Liberal was the next big city, 65 miles due south, so that was my plan. I’d find the ubiquitous Camp WM and park there. Then I’d return to GC for my meeting in the morning, if the tornado didn’t ravage this flower-oriented community.

When I saw a bedraggled truck stop in Sublette, a blip halfway between GC and Liberal, I stopped. The storm was, by all indications, 30 miles north, heading east. I checked with my KS friend who was tracking it on her computer and on TV, and she confirmed I was in the clear.

I pulled into the empty dirt lot next to this dingy truck stop haven, replaced Tillie’s night shades, and texted my friend that I was settling in for the night.

The advantage of being able to flee what could be a deadly situation was very clear in my mind. How many people experiencing domestic violence or other forms of life-threatening conditions can do that? I have resources—

My truck-neighbors and the mud hole awaiting me.

sufficient fuel, a reliable vehicle, credit cards and a bit of cash, my home wrapped around me, and the wherewithal to listen to the warning that came my way.

When a rumbling semi nestled next to me, his noisy engine running throughout the night, I vacillated between annoyance and appreciation. My weather app indicated Sublette would be in for hail, wind and rain later in the evening. My semi-buddy would at least block the wind.

Happily, I’m writing this the next morning, and not driving through the aftermath of Mother Nature’s ire. We didn't even get rain, a good thing because the dirt lot would have engulfed me 'n Tillie.

Life can change in a minute. Even with resources, one is not protected. When you’re given a chance to have another day, grab it. I’ll do what I can to make this one count!

I'm in Kansas filming a documentary, Worn Out Welcome Mat--KS on the invisible and misunderstood issue of homeless families and youth doubled up with nowhere to go. More info about my organization HEAR US Inc.

August??!! You gotta be kidding!

I'm not an obsessive blogger, but when I found my latest RV blog was August I realized that I lost about 6 weeks somewhere in my crazy life. Gosh, hadn't I written ANYTHING??? since then???

A trickle of a memory started to come back--yes, you dork, you started a blog post about the kids who washed your gross RV. Oh yeah, I remember....and finished it.

Besides being on overload prior to my IL departure on October 7, I have an excuse for such lapses. My Dad died a week ago today, on 10/10. He was 88 and had lived a full life. The cancer and dementia was too much to overcome. It's a relief for all of us.

Bill was a funny guy--humorous and unconventional. He bought a camper--I vaguely remember it--back in the 60s. Mom said he just decided that it could be a good portable showroom for his gift business and bingo, he drove up to Indiana to get it.

I didn't see any pix of it as family rummaged through old photos in preparation for the memorial service. That would have been priceless. I guess he didn't keep it long. It probably proved to be a tad unwieldy as he lugged it behind his snazzy Cadillac.

Dad would always let you know if he approved of your choices, even if you didn't want/need his approval. When I was shaping my plan for HEAR US, my unconventional nonprofit venture to call attention to homeless families, I decided the only way to really do this was to get an RV, thus Tillie was purchased.

I didn't ask his blessing--or advice for that matter. I did talk to Mom about it and although she thought perhaps this was a little extreme, she stood back to let me follow my game plan. My first visit to their Atlanta area home three years ago was part of my maiden voyage--a learning experience to learn how to drive this big bus and to figure out the ABCs of RV camping.

My first state park was in Alabama (pix is the same park--Wind Creek). I drove westward out of Atlanta, watching the sky darken as I raced to get to the park. As I neared the park Mom called and said they figured I was heading right into a band of nasty weather and that tornado warnings had been issued. She said Dad told me to head for a hotel. Yeah, right.

I managed to land on the site, figured out (sort of) the plug-in system, try in vain to hook up the hose, and sure enough the tornado siren wailed. Now what? my naive self thought.

I stuck my head out the door and the people in the next site hollered over to follow them to the bath house, a slightly sturdier--concrete block--structure not too far away. Not grabbing anything except my cell phone I headed over.

About 8 of us huddled together. A wise traveler brought a weather radio. The counties where the warning was in effect were listed. I was clueless as to the name of the city, much less the county. Some wiser person knew our county, and yes, we were included. In fact, a tornado had been sighted in our general area.

Yikes! All I could picture was Tillie floating in the adjacent lake. I'd have to call family for help. NO!!! Can't do that!

After about an hour we figured the danger was over and meandered back to our campers. It was dark--power failure--so I didn't see the knee-deep puddles between me and Tillie. I trudged on, happy not to have to call home.

The moral of the story--pay some attention to weather and if you have to abandon ship, figure out what you should take with you. Let me suggest a flashlight. And pay attention to the name of the county you're staying in.

How did Dad know the storm was so close to where I was heading?! He didn't seem to be paying attention to my travel plans. I guess it's a Dad-thing. I'll miss those moments...and other endearing traits of his.

I will try to be more attentive to my blogs. Yeah, right!