Tornado

(photos follow)

At 4:15pm yesterday I took Weetzie and Roxy for a walk. Thunderstorms and a tornado were predicted but it just seemed like a continually gloomy day. Anyway, I'm no longer afraid of thunderstorms and a tornado sounded like more media weather sensationalism.

We walk the half block to the park and Weetzie, stubborn femme poodle, pulls toward the 9th St. entrance. I prefer the 5th St. entrance since it's prettier, but because I am the consummate bottom I let Weetzie have her way, at least today. Roxy does whatever I do. She does not have the lofty desires of Weetzie. Weetzie likes 9th St for the grills, picnics, e.g., random bits of food on the ground, and the dog beach. (yes, I know this paragraph is making you roll your eyes, reader)

In a moment we're in Long Meadow, the enormous area in the center of the park. Long Meadow is one mile long and the "longest stretch of unbroken meadow in any U.S. park," according to www.prospectpark.org. I find it breathtaking and go there everyday with the dogs. I'm a fan of Frederick Law Olmsted, history's most brilliant park designer.

The dogs and I meander about. I let them off their leashes to tear after a Yorkie while his owner and I chat. "The sky ...," she says with a furrowed brow. The horizon had taken on a greenish tint but the air doesn't feel damp or heavy like it does with a thunderstorm. We put our dogs on their leashes and say goodbye.

It's almost 5:00pm. I continue to walk down the center of the meadow, looking at the sky. I am determined to never let thunderstorms alter my path. I'll do what's practical, but not what's driven by fear. I will not run home, nor panic, nor start making phone calls looking to be calmed.

I developed several fears in the last 15 years and I'm set on conquering them now that I'm back home in NYC. My fear of thunderstorms started in Bellport, Long Island, with the squalls, hurricanes, and violent thunderstorms. It ended in 2006 at the start of year-long divorce proceedings (from my female spouse) in Northampton that left me an exhausted zombie who was about to turn 50 with a life in financial turmoil. One afternoon in the early summer, I took the dogs out for a walk with a darkening sky and thunder in the distance and thought, "eh, so maybe I'll get hit by lightning; it can't be worse than the fresh hell I'm going through." That was the end of that fear.

Yesterday we got home in time too. The sky turned a strange yellow-grey-green. I walked down my street and stopped to say hello to Mary, an 80+ year old who lives with her daughter and calls my dogs, "the beautiful babies," as if they were a vision from heaven rather than two ratty poodles who are overdue for their overpriced grooming. I like Mary. One day I was strolling by in shorts and a tank top during the NYC official heat wave and she yelled out from the stoop of her brownstone, "hey, you've got a good body." I said, "what?!" (what 80-year-old says "good body"?) Since then we chat about Brooklyn, dogs, clothing styles.... Mary was getting ready to sit on the stoop and go through her mail.

I got in the house about 5:15pm to the sound of thunder. I gave the dogs their treats and sat down to write my requisite two pages a day of my memoir. Barry and Viv, my landlord and his wife, came downstairs to say goodbye before getting in their car to go to JFK and Europe. Within minutes, there was a strange yellow glow outside. The wind picked up. I closed the front windows a little. The dogs got up and came over to me. They were stock still and staring out the window. Then, in a second, there was nonstop lightning out both the front and back windows, the wind and rain were so harsh all I can see was a grey screen in front of me as I struggled to close the windows and the front door, opened behind the iron gate. As I ran into the back to close the bathroom window, I could see that the trees in the back were blowing in opposite directions at once. I knew something was terribly wrong. I heard an incredible boom and the house shook. I ran into the basement and Roxy followed. Weetzie, the ever viligant one, waited at the top of the stairs. It was only minutes before I came back up. It was subsiding. The following are some photos:

5:45pm My backyard

Tree down up the street on 7th ave.

6:15pm Brooklyn Industries on 7th ave and 9th st. All the windows and door were blown out. A young woman standing outside looked stunned and said to anyone who would listen, "I pushed the door opened to take shelter in the store and the door blew out of my hand."

Trees down on 8th st and 7th ave; car smashed on 7th ave

The remains of a table in front of my neighbor's house

11am, this morning: Entrances to the park between 5th and 9th streets 1/2 a block from my home.



My friend, the albino squirrel, posed for a photo (at left on log); and later the black squirrel made an appearance in my neighbor's yard (on the fence)

And in Long Meadow, the middle of the park, down a short path from the destruction, not a leaf is out of place. A tornado cuts a very selective path.