Playing Twister

A brief update on the weather that rolled through the South on Friday evening. It was harrowing at times. The tornadic cells were coming one after the after.

There's something you should know about tornado season in the South. When a line of threatening storms move through, everything stops. It's like a blizzard in the North. Schools released kids about 1 p.m. -- three hours before the first of the storms were projected to be in the area. Many children still ride school buses in the rural areas, so this was a safety precaution that they wouldn't be caught out on the roads during bad weather. We didn't close the office, but I did tell my people early in the morning they could leave without penalty if they worked through lunch. (The Girl says I'm so mean.) The stores start selling bread and batteries at a frantic pace.

Then we wait ...

I was in no rush to get home, because the storms were moving slower than expected. Most of the early evening was uneventful. Most of the super cells seemed to merge into what are called "line storms." You might then merging is a bad thing, but usually it's not. Tornadoes are far less likely to form out of line storms than cells (which account for about 80 percent of all tornadoes).

Then, suddenly, the super cells decided they didn't want to play nice after all. A few tornadoes were spotted in the air -- including one only a few miles from my house. Let me be clear. I lived through this. I do not take tornadoes lightly.

I unplugged everything and grabbed my emergency kit (flashlight, radio, bottle of water, medicine, etc.), a few pillows for padding, home phone, cellphone, Blackberry and a jacket and took shelter. (If you ever find yourself in a tornado, seek shelter somewhere with the most walls between you and the outside. In many homes, this is a bathroom. Also, cover yourself with pillows or a mattress. Take emergency supplies with you, because they won't be around if you're hit.)

My bathrooms are both exposed to exterior walls. The safest place in my house is the walk-in closet in the master bedroom. I couldn't hear much until there were a few bangs. I thought someone was knocking on my door. Then the noise was rapid-fire. It took me those 10 seconds to realize the sound was hail pounding on my roof. It lasted another half a minute or so. The radio reported the actual tornado was just south of me, which makes sense because the hail is on the west side of the storm. Finally, the worst part passed, and we were left with hard, hard rain.

All is well at Chez Jake, and remarkably there wasn't much property damage anywhere in the area -- despite the high winds. We've come a long way in tornado preparation and prediction since 1974.

There was one humorous moment in all of this that I must share.

The Girl lives south of me. I wanted to check on her. Remarkably, I never lost power or telephone service. We exchanged text messages. I share them for your enjoyment.

Me: I am broadcasting to you live from my bedroom closet. Are you OK?

The Girl: It's not too bad here yet. Did you say you're in the closet?

Me: Yes, kinda ironic, huh?

The Girl: Don't tell anyone. They won't let you in the Boy Scouts.

Me: Or the Mormon church.

The Girl: Same thing.

We're so funny.