The Heart of a Storm

Now a Tornado Gave Me a Chance to Get It Right

“Dixie Alley”

“It’s a very strong line of storms: multiple supercells moving across Northern Georgia, with a possibility of hitting the Atlanta metro.” The two TV meteorologists on the Weather Channel were playing verbal ping pong with meteorological jargon as I attempted to make my own forecast from a home office in Orlando Florida. Even though my son and his growing family lived in Decatur, just northwest of Atlanta without a TV, I figured he must have access to other forms of news and weather. Nothing here for me to worry about. I was wrong. With a crazy busy legal career, two young children and a lovable but sometimes crazy Golden Retriever, he was hardly thinking much about the local forecast except a snippet on his iPhone with a short text to me: “Predicting long path tornadoes here.” If he texted me, he was concerned.

Even though I had been a wannabe weather ‘weenie’ since I was 10, living in Oklahoma’s tornado alley, I was going to follow the experts’ forecast on the Weather Channel. One of the other complicating factors was that Georgia was in Dixie Alley. This part of the country is closer to the Gulf of Mexico so the instability in the air can be maintained, increasing the frequency of intense nighttime storms. More concern…

‘Weather Weenie’ with Dad

As I pulled up three different professional radar scopes, constantly checking handfuls of meteorological rules of thumb, my mind travelled back over 60 years to my dad’s apartment in Oklahoma City right after the divorce: “I bought this weather kit. Let’s put it together.” It was one of the only times that dad focused totally on me. I suppose that may have been the underlying, silent reason why I liked learning about the weather. But there were others.

‘Storm Country’

Living in Oklahoma was having a ringside seat to the most dynamic weather in the country. In our teens my friends and I chased tornadoes before the term ‘storm chaser’ had yet to be coined. I’d spent years learning enough about weather prediction to become a Cooperative Weather Observer with NOAA and a Storm Spotter. While I had a bit of knowledge, observing and predicting for years, I never had to follow a prediction that lives depended on, and these were the lives of my son and his family. This was the real deal and none of my amateur knowledge or limited experience put me in a position to make a forecast for anybody. But then, I figured I’d just follow the Weather Channel, like the amateur I was.

My Father’s Son

My relationship with my son was closer than my dad’s with me but not nearly as much as I craved, especially now. I could have done so much better. I had been self-centered to a fault, a workaholic pursuing my own interests with not nearly enough of me left for my children. I was trying to make up for it to my young adult son, especially after retirement. But just like that Harry Chapin song, ‘The Cat’s in the Cradle,’ it seemed too little, too late. Now he didn’t have the time. He was raising his own children and doing it well. Thankfully, he was texting me: “They’re predicting tornadoes for the Atlanta metro around midnight to 3 AM.” “No problem. I’ll monitor it.” “Thanks dad.”

‘Show Time’

I plopped on the couch to watch the Weather Channel for the minute by minute ‘blows’ as the lines of supercells danced through northern Georgia. After all, these guys and girls were the pros. As I followed their dialogue, maps and radar, I drifted into a nodding slumber on the couch. Suddenly, I awoke out of an anxious sleep to see the cable was off! After repeated attempts to fire up the TV with no luck, I ran to my office to scan my various radar set-ups. As the cobwebs cleared and my eyes focused, I saw it: a line of galloping supercells heading toward NW toward Atlanta. In a cold sweat I realized I was the only source of information for a trusting son and his family. I started tracking, measuring, slicing and dicing every level of the atmosphere west of Atlanta. And there it was: a rotating cell hoping to the northwest of metro Atlanta. I started to text my son:

“You up?”

“Yeah!”

“So..start to get your things together. I think it would be a good idea to move to your safe place.”

“You sure?” “Have to get the kids up.”

I sent a text: “No need yet. I’ll let you know” in the calmest text voice I could summon with my eyes swiveling back to the radar as though I had x-ray vision. As the supercell moved East and then jogged Northwest, I took a 3 D snapshot of its structure: a cloud height just below 45K feet with strong up and downdrafts. I clicked on the button named: “rotation.”

There it was: a dark blue, purple splotch moving directly toward Decatur.

“OK. I want you to get your wife, the kids and the dog. Go to the hall closet just to be safe. I’m looking at a rotation couplet, but it’s still in the clouds. This happens a lot without touching down. So just to be sure..”

“Thanks dad. Will do.” He sounded calm. So far so good.

Five minutes later: “Dad, I hear the sirens going off, an SOS on my iPhone and a swishing sound outside.”

“Hang In there. I think it’s a ‘lightweight. I’ll keep monitoring”

As I watched the line of supercells speed through Atlanta, I breathed out a long sigh.

“OK. Think it’s going to be fine now. I see one more line to the West, but nothing severe.

“Thanks dad”

“You bet”

Dead asleep by 4:30, I didn’t see my son’s text until well into the next morning.

“Dad, thanks so much for your help.”

“You beat the local forecast! They said it was an EF1 tornado and we dodged it.”

Sometimes God gives wayward fathers a second chance. This one touched down from heaven.

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