Sunday, October 27, 2019

Tornado! Seek Shelter - Now!

I don't know how many people paid to watch the film Sharknado, or for that matter, Sharknado II, III or XXVI.  And I don't know how many of those who paid to see the film(s) enjoyed it.  Probably more than would admit it.

But I know of plenty of people around here who would have paid not to see Tornado - Garland Edition, which opened suddenly on Sunday, October 20, 2019.


This could have been us - but it wasn't

My cell does not receive the typical bad weather alerts issued the authorities.  My wife's phone gathers every watch and warning sent out.  The text alerts are almost always "severe thunderstorm warning" (yeah, we got that clue when we heard the thunder and saw all of the lightning 5 minutes ago, thanks for the information).  But this time was different.  I did receive on my phone, a red screen with the text, Tornado Warning.  I had to do the mental calculation for this part of the world; Watch = "It might happen, be alert to the possibility", versus Warning = "It's happening! It's happening now!"  We were advised to tune into local media for further information.

NBC was airing the Cowboys vs the Eagles NFL football game, everyone knows that is sacrosanct in these parts; no way NBC was going to break away from what really matters to alert the populace of a tornado on the ground.  Heck, millions are interested in the Dallas Cowboys, but what's the worst that can happen?  Maybe 20 or so people get killed?  One has to weigh the factors involved; millions of viewers vs a relatively few people in harms way.  Cowboys win!  That one was easy.   

We turned to Fox News and listened to their team of meteorologists and watched their Doppler radar feed which showed red/green pixels indicating rotation in the atmosphere; in plain English, a tornado.  Confirmation reports were broadcast of a tornado on the ground near Love Field Airport, west side of Dallas.  We were watching this report unfold in Garland, northeast of Dallas.  Tornadoes always travel southwest to northeast.  Tornadoes are often on the ground for only a mile or two.  Albeit, a destructive mile or two, but though it can happen, the path of destruction is not usually measured in multiple miles.  I felt that the dangerous circulation being tracked on radar would dissipate before it came the 20 miles or so to our neighborhood.  But I kept a watchful eye as long as we had power.

Sue asked if she should get our tornado shelter space ready?  I told her the prediction was for this tornado to reach Garland by 9:31, and yikes! the part of Garland projected to be in its path was right were we were watching from our imperiled two-story house.  In answer to your question dear; "Yes, I think it would be a good idea to clear out our tornado shelter."  Our tornado shelter is the closet space under the staircase.  It is in the middle of the house, away from windows and doors.  Since we are lacking a basement, it seems like it fits most of the criteria recommended for those who wish to remain in Texas rather than being transported to Oz.  I watched the TV (such a man-thing - right?) while my wife hauled out the vacuum cleaner, boxes of board games and some nice looking Montana agates that are stored in the coat closet under the staircase.  I suggested we grab the pillows from the bed for additional protection.  We closed the window blinds, removed items from the mantle and placed them at floor level.  

Sue asked, "What about the tortoises? Where should we put them?"  

I said "They're hibernating.  They aren't listening to the news alerts, I don't think they are too worried.  Besides they're low to the ground and have hard shells, they should be fine."

"No. Like are they good where they are?"

"I think so.  We don't have room to put the four of them in the tiny closet with us."

I watched the Doppler signal grow ever closer to the major intersection near our house.  Sue had made a cozy little storm nest.  It was ready 10 minutes before the projected hit.  I watched the TV coverage up until the forecast tornado was said to be about 3 minutes from our house.  I turned up the volume of the TV as we tucked ourselves in beneath the coat rack and shut the door.  I turned to my wife, "I think we are going to loose our roof in a few minutes."

We waited.  We listened.  We heard no rain.  We heard no wind. We heard no 'freight train' noise, as all survivors of tornadoes declare they hear the sound of a freight train prior to destruction.  

"My legs are cramped." I admitted after squatting in the dark for several minutes.

"Yeah, my neck's got a kink in it." Said my storm closet companion.

"OK.  I think we're safe. Let's get out of here."  I opened the door and took my turn to reassemble the house back to its original order, including stacking the games, agates and vacuum cleaner back into the tornado shelter.  Strange.  There was almost no rain or wind during this event, even though we were in the cross-hairs based on sophisticated weather radar.

+++

The sun came up Monday and it was a nice day after a big 1 AM electrical storm (no severe weather or tornadic activity with this second storm system roaring through Garland).  I had a Monday morning meeting outside of Fort Worth to show one of my oil prospects.  I had spent 8 hours in my office on Saturday putting together the needed maps and exhibits for my presentation.  I had decided to put everything I needed in my car, so I didn't need to travel the 6 miles back to my office to pick everything up.  I'd was prepared to leave from home and drive directly to Ft. Worth.  Good choice as it turns out.


Tornado Damage being repaired
Along Shiloh Road, outside my office window


Upon my return to Garland mid afternoon, it was taking me an inordinate amount of time to navigate back to my office due to heavy traffic.  Weird.  As I get close to my building on Shiloh Road, my usual route is blocked by emergency vehicles, police and fire.  I reroute myself and pull in from the west.  There are only a few cars in the office parking lot and many electric utility trucks.  The hand-written sign on the building door says, "Building Closed. No Power."

I survey my surroundings and I see that there is a plenitude of storm damage along Shiloh.  I go home.  I check emails and see one from the building management.  "Storm damage, no power until further notice."


Tornado Destruction
From Office Building Rooftop

I hear nothing by Tuesday, so I drive into work in the morning to see what is happening.  Still no power, so I climb the darkened stairwell using my cell phone flashlight app to my second floor office.  I return some paper work to my desk and then leave.  No electricity, no computer, means no work in the 21st Century.

One of the building maintenance guys shares his phone photos of the destruction with me.  The tornado hit the trucking depot at the lot to the west and then traveled northeast and smashed the unused (just completed) warehouse immediately to the north.  

Wow.  That was close.  Absolutely no damage to the office and despite the predicted path, no damage our home either.

Later in the week, I took some photos along Shiloh Road of the tornado's destruction.  It lasted about 1/4 of a mile, had winds estimated at 135 MPH.  Destroyed the warehouse, damaged 15-20 homes but neither killed nor injured anyone.


The NE corner remains standing, the rest of the recently constructed (and still unoccupied)
warehouse on the lot north of my business office was crumpled.
My office building the the glass 6-story building on the middle horizon

Tornado debris piled along Shiloh Road.
Metal from the destroyed warehouse was ripped and thrown
across the road, damaging houses.
(My office stands in the distance)

Blue tarps cover missing roofs.
Clean-up crews started immediately to saw downed trees
and clear the streets for traffic.

Tornado EF-3 results: Missing roof, snapped tree limbs and
building material carried around 200 yards, landing about 20 feet up in a tree.

The hanging tree

Roof Repair?  What Roof?
This house is 2 lots east of Shiloh Road.  Destroyed warehouse in the background.

Tree limbs stripped in 135 MPH winds.
Undamaged warehouse (identical to the one destroyed) in the background.

Snapped power pole.

Collapsed building.
But by the grace of God, there go I.

National Weather Service inspection teams combed the area and destruction sites in the following days.  The final report identified 10 tornadoes in the area that night, no deaths, only a couple of minor injuries.

Even the sophisticated news weather radar didn't show 10 tornadoes.  The point being, they could drop on you out of anywhere - just ask the witch with ruby slippers.  The EF-3 twister documented above at Shiloh and Miller Roads was not identified on radar.

Coming up on Thanksgiving, we have many things to be thankful for.  Including our distance from the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific, otherwise it could have been worse.  It could have been Sharknado XXVII!



Saturday, September 7, 2019

I Love a Parade

I love a parade.  Good thing for me, Garland boasts something like "The largest Labor Day Parade in America in a city under 1 million and west of the Mississippi".  All of that right here in town.


Flags and Boy Scouts march past as The Star Spangled Banner plays
To lead the Garland Labor Day Parade

Sometimes in years past (when in town), we've sat curbside to watch and cheer the local parading participants, but lately I've sat in my shaded spot at Glenbrook and Main all by my lonesome, as I wait for Sue to float on by atop the Garland First Presbyterian entry.  It is not really in Sue's job description to run the church's float, but since she knows what has to happen and since she does have connections as Director of Education to recruit the youth to ride the float, she always seems to have a bigger role in the Labor Day doings than would be expected in a better organized world.

This year Garland FPC's entry got into line early, so they were near the front of the 2 mile parade route.  Being near the front of the line of 150 entrants, she and the float made the 9 o'clock evening news - and it did not hurt that she spotted the Channel 4 cameraman, looked directly into the lens and gave a big ol' smile and hearty wave.  Others no doubt ended up on the cutting room floor, but not photogenic Sue.


Director of Christian Education for Garland First Presbyterian
waves energetically to the crowd and the TV cameras lining Main Street

The youth, DCE and Pastor float along Main Street in the Labor Day parade
All six GISD High School marching bands were present (sans uniforms on this 92 degree morning) along with the always sparkly hosts of allied dancing performers, majorettes and cheer leaders.  It is always great to hear a high school drum line move on down Main Street, I feel it kind of grounds me in local identity and a larger spirit of America.



There were large and very pink flamingos ("Let's Flamingle! - Garland neighbors"), the Shriners with there rock band on a flatbed trailer, an airplane float and their side kicks, a cohort of clowns handing our candy.  A local barber, an organic food store, plenty of Pee Wee Football teams, scouts and brownies, local politicians and at the end the Sheriff walked on by, followed by her mounted deputies.  





Sachse High Swingsters
Swing on down Main Street

Sachse High School - Alma Mater of our daughter Inga (2005-2009)







Garland High School - Alma Mater to our son Grant (2007-2011)




Garland High Step Team
High Stepping Lasses 


Local Color - Pink

South Garland High Senoritas


Mounted Dallas County Deputy Sheriff
rides at the tail end of the Labor Day Parade

After an Hour and ten minutes, everybody who was anybody had passed on bye.  I folded up my camp chair and headed home where I had the Stars and Stripes flying in the hot summer breeze from my front porch.

Thursday, September 5, 2019

Show me the Monet!

It is the end of August.  
It is time for a little break.

I asked the wife to clear her schedule for Saturday.  She did, but had a few items to do around home in the afternoon. I told her she would not be at home in the afternoon - when I said clear your schedule, I meant for the whole day. "Oh", was her reply that came with a quizzical smirk.  "I'm dying to know..." - so I told her my plan.

I laid out my plan for a 'European style holiday'; a day of train travel, cafes and museums with master painters.  We would motor the 2.6 miles to the Garland light rail station (DART), ride to downtown Dallas' Union Station, where we would board the Trinity Railway Express (TRE) and ride to Fort Worth, catch the autobus #2 at the Ft. Worth Itermodal Transportation Center to the Kimbell Art Museum.  I had two tickets to see the special traveling exhibition for "Monet - The Later Years".  This exhibition features his famous series of Water Lilies and his garden in Giverny, France from 1896-1926.  It was to be our little day adventure.

A rumbling thunder storm arrived with Saturday's morning light, a nice divergence from the forecast sunny 96 degrees; I remarked that we could pretend this most unlike Texas summer morning was a stormy European summer morning.

Sue purchases 2 regional passes that will be good for
Dart light rail, Express Train and buses 
With a bit of breakfast in my belly, my beard combed and and lift in my step, we headed to downtown Garland to catch the DART Blue Line for the first leg of our Journey.


Sue gets our regional passes at the automated ticket machine and we take a seat to await the DART.  While waiting at the Garland platform, a woman crosses the tracks, wearing just her gold bra and black panties with an unbuttoned shirt draped over her torso.  Sue turns and whispers to me, "Looks like that woman is having one of those days living out that embarrassing dream we all have once in a while."  I nod, there will be plenty to see today.


We wait for the Blue Line in Garland to ride to downtown Dallas' Union Station
Once at Union Station, we get off of the DART and cross over to the waiting TRE and take our seat.  Anthony then comes on board, introduces himself and reminds all of us passengers to "not get twisted" and tells us that he knows all of the cops and that he has just saved a young woman from being raped.  Anthony had some other bits of advice and some conversational points, but I've now forgotten them.

Trinity Rail Express
at Union Station, Dallas






All Aboard!

Ready to ride the rails to Fort Worth
It is about an hour to get to Ft. Worth on the TRE as we pass through some suburbia, some rough industrial back-sections of the mid-cities and some wooded and rural patches.

We scan our Regional Pass as we step onto the bus and take a seat.  The No. 2 Route will bring us within a block of the Kimbell Art Museum in the world renowned Ft Worth 'Museum District'.



As advertised, Claude Monet has a number of his paintings from the end of his career on display.  We step in, the crowds at noon on this Saturday are large, but not overly crowded.  We pick up our complimentary audio tour device and begin to indulge in some culture. 













Here are a few selected works from the Monet exhibition:

Japanese Foot Bridge

Water Lilies 1906

Water Lilies 1904



Water Lilies 1915-17 (Part of Triptych)


Yellow Irises 1914-1917




We stroll through Claude's inspiring garden courtesy of the a large photograph on the
Kimbell's wall. 


We finish touring Claude Monet's garden of water lilies, roses, yellow irises, agapanthus and studies of his Weeping Willow and wisteria covered foot bridge in about an hour's time.  We walk a couple of blocks and slip into get some ramen noodles with a side of fried oysters.  We call it a day of adventure in Fort Worth and take the bus to the train station.




TRE in Fort Worth
We wait almost an hour for the arrival of the TRE back to Dallas as we watch the Amtrack Train pull into the station and board a handful of passengers headed for San Antonio, and eventually arriving in LA.

We remember that we left nothing out for dinner, so we consider our option once we get off DART in Garland.  We settle on Intrinsic BBQ 2 blocks from the Garland station; we're in luck, they still have some smoked meats available.  We order a full rack of ribs and take 'em home and lick our fingers and figuratively patted ourselves on the back.

It was a day of adventure. A good day to be sure.
****************
    We later heard that there had been a great art theft in the museum district - in broad daylight.  A very clever and daring robbery of some great and priceless French impressionist paintings.  The good news is that the authorities caught the art thief just a few blocks away from the museum in his stalled van, recovering every painting inside his old van.  The police question the thief; How did you manage to pull off this brilliant daylight heist inside the museum, yet end up being apprehended on the side of the street just a short distance from the scene of the crime?

The art thief replied, "I did not have the Monet, to buy Degas to make my Van Gogh".

There, did I just ruin your day?




Sunday, August 18, 2019

Cicada Summer

Forty or more years after the fact, if I happen to catch the blaring of a guitar tract unmistakably Foghat (Slow Ride) or a lick from Peter Frampton, I am reminded of Homan Hall - usually 12:40 AM when one of my dorm mates down the hall cranks up his large stereo system to shake the cinder block walls.  What is now merely a reminiscence of undergraduate youth, was back then an annoying disturbance before the next morning's chemistry class.  Studying for physics, calculus and chemistry back in the 1970's, I had to ask - Why pump up the stereo in the small hours of the morning in a dorm full of students?  


Tibecen sp. perched on flowering Brown Eyed Susan
in Suneson's backyard, August, 2019.


Now, long gone from the haunts of campus, I find myself 1,335 miles away, living in suburban North Texas.  There are some things that I immediately took a shine too in Texas, of course barbecue and its culture, Tex-Mex cuisine, fire flies and impressive springtime thunderstorms.  Some other things I have come slowly to appreciate, and some that I just plain have had to get used to over the years.  A hot and humid Texas summer is one of those things that is just a natural fact, and something you have to get used to - no real sense in complaining.  I've recently become aware of the growing fondness I have developed for a suburban Texas summer phenomena, the local "locust" or more entomologically correct, the Cicada.  The cacophony of shrill, metallic trilling and throbbing coming from the tree tops is as much a part of a typical hot summer Texas July day as Foghat's Slow Ride was a part of life in Homan Hall when I was trying to get some sleep.

The cicadas incessant songs are mostly a display to attract a mate, and in answer to my question back in the '70's; Why Foghat turned up to volume 11 at 12:40 AM?  I think the answer is the same - the bigger the stereo systems, the louder the trilling and throbbing in communal space, the greater the display of virility.  Isn't it always a matter of getting sex?  Same for college boys and Texas cicadas.  Males of all species are so simple.

It is official that the State Insect of the Lone Star State is the Monarch butterfly, and who doesn't like the Monarch?  But I think the Lone Star Locust is deserving up runner-up, the silver medal, for the State Insect of Texas.  The cicadas measuring in at 2-inches from proboscis to wing-tip, sits tall in the saddle on an insect scale, they are loud and proud and dominate the auditory landscape across Texas' hot afternoons when that space is left open for mad dogs and Englishmen.  They are pure Texas in my opinion.  I'd give 'em full credit for making a run for top billing as State Insect of Texas.

I've grown to marvel at summer's sexual symphony synonymous with simmering sun.  With parallax heat waves rising from the suburban concrete sidewalks in combination with the chorus of clamoring cicadas, I know I am smack dab in the heart of Texas.  I've grown to appreciate it; Cicadas songs along with those of Aerosmith, Frampton and Foghat.


Specific identification of this species of Texas cicada is unknown by me,
but I root for this gal being a Dog Day Cicada (Tibicen spp.) because that is a cool name to have 
On this mid-August afternoon, the cicadas are mostly silent, I listen and hear only the brief, lonely buzz of a forlorn long-lived individual in his depopulated tree.  Their life cycle above ground is but a flash on a summer's day.  By this time of the season they are mostly gone, I miss them.  But I will enjoy their full throated (tymbral) return with the humidity and high heat telling me it is summer in Texas.  Appreciate it, or might I say; Take a slow ride, take it easy.



https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GcCNcgoyG_0


Monday, July 29, 2019

Can't Mail It In

On the cusp of another July/August transition, it is not the ideal time to do yard chores and outdoor projects.  Never-the-less, not to be totally daunted by the high humidity and the searing sun raising the stakes at around 100 degrees; there comes a time when things just gotta get takin' care of.

Inspired by my wife's intensity to drastically trim back the "Green Monster" (not the left field wall in Fenway Park), a Lady Banks Rose bush that I mistakenly planted along the driveway with the expectation that it would fill-in nice greenery between the pickets in our iron fence.  It quickly took over a third of the driveway's width and extended its long green tentacle canes for 8 or 10 feet upward; leaving just a thicket of deadwood along the fence and bustling at the top with Little Shop of Horrors our-of-control greenery.  Over several days Sue clipped nearly every last one of those green canes and all of the deadwood on evenings, mornings and on her days off.  We hauled a brush pile estimated to be over 500 pounds to the curb for the city to take away.  With the taming of the rose, she suggests it's my turn to do some of the needed yard work.

First up - those rusted off welds on some of the iron pickets means that the pickets are no longer firmly attached to horizontal cross pieces, which in turn means that our clatter of tortoises or any guest dogs [see A Wedding Wrapped in a Circus with a Silver Lining, 11/10/2018] are capable of finding a weakness in the perimeter and disappearing into the Texas sunset.  When discovered, these loose pickets had been secured by electrical tape and baling wire.  A more permanent solution is required, and that involves drilling a 1/8" hole through the iron picket and crossbar and securing them with a #10, 2" bolt and a nut.  I broke all 5 of my 1/8" drill bits on this project.  A hop over to Home Depot to replenish my wood drill bits allowed me to encounter a specifically designed 1/8" metal drill bit.  It worked like a charm.  Pouring sweat in the noonday sun, I threaded the last bolt through my slickly drilled holes and the job is finished.

One more top item on the summer honey-dos, refurbish the mailbox.  It has stood in front of our house through sizzling heat and cobblestone ice, through dusty drought and furious flood and it was more than beginning to show the effects.  A new wire brush to work off some of the rust and a can of shiny black Rustoleum spray paint and I think I can upgrade the curb appeal to ol' 2725 in no time.  Only problem, Home Despot has had a run on the supply of adhesive numeral 2.  Dang, I'll need four of those number 2's.  I go next door to Lowe's, and they have enough adhesive numerals to sponsor Sesame Street for a fortnight.

Reading the spray paint instructions on the label, I am advised "not to use in humidity above 55% or in temperature conditions between 40 and 90 degrees (F). Ha!! Might as well say, "Do Not Use In Texas In Months That Do Not Contain the Letter "R"!  I'm a rebel and I have a to-do list in this damnable heat and humidity; neither rain, nor snow, gloom of night nor heat and humidity will stop stay me from my appointed rounds.  The US Mailbox will be refurbished!


BEFORE

This is a project that one can not just mail it in.  You have to be committed.


AFTER
 [Now, if I pass out from heat stroke, the ambulance will be able to find the address of our house]