For several years, I have been meaning to take a Red Cross course to be certified so that I could provide assistance after a disaster. I got as far as calling about when a class would be held but never made it any further. After the tornado hit Joplin this past Sunday, basically just up the road, St Paul’s Episcopal Church, where I cook for the Community Meals, organized a relief trip up to the area. I jumped at the opportunity to go along, yet, I found myself becoming very anxious yesterday, going back and forth over whether to go or not.
I believe I was afraid of the strong emotional reaction I might have to actually seeing the devastation up close. Horror and fear are in my blood, though, not exactly experienced directly but passed down, invisibly transferred, one quiet intravenous drop after another and noxiously released into the air I breathed day in and day out by two people in my home who suffered through the devastation known as the Holocaust. Seeing the pictures on TV of the homes flattened by the tornado was gut-wrenching and seemed to touch on old wounds that related to pain that was beyond belief.
By early Tuesday evening, I decided to definitely go. The rest of the evening I was a nervous wreck. Before going to bed, I took an Ambien, but sleep did not come easily and I ended up with about four and a half hours of shut-eye.
Yesterday, I discussed with Rachel when I would try to squeeze in my ride. We were to meet at the church by 6:20 in the morning and we possibly would not be back until 8:00 at night. The weather in the morning looked good but meant getting up very early. More storms were in the forecast for the next afternoon and evening. I opted for getting up early so I set the alarm for 4:15, but that wasn’t necessary as I was up on my own by 3:45.
It was a beautiful morning with a quarter moon lightly lighting up the sky. I took the camera along not expecting at all to stop and take any pictures as I had very little time to spare. But after passing the toad for a third time in the road, I had to stop. Even with the small amount of sleep, I was feeling much better about the day.
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| Toad in the Road. 5:00 AM |
It turned out that my neighbor Patrick Pilkington was also going up and we managed to connect this morning to go in together. There were about 20 of us at the church parking lot with a few more familiar faces which helped put me even more at ease. Bruce Wilkens, who I know through his wife Laura who heads the Community Meals, joined Patrick and me for the ride up. I still did not know what it would be like when we got to Joplin, but I felt much more prepared to confront what I would see.
There must have been about 200 volunteers waiting to process themselves through when we arrived at the staging area. Though, these went remarkably smoothly and fairly quickly. We gathered outside for a group photo before loading onto the bus that would take us to the clean up areas.
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| St. Paul's Episcopal Church of Fayetteville, AR, Relief Group |
From the staging area, we drove to another staging area where we would walk to the neighborhoods that were hit. Some damage could be seen from where we were but we knew it was minimal compared to what we knew was just a few blocks away.
On the bus we befriended Tracey, who was on her own. She adopted us, or we her, and our threesome became a happy foursome. She is from Mt. Vernon, MO.
For a while now, I've been meaning to start a photo collection of people with tattoos; today seemed to be a good day to start as I had lots of prospects. This is Joe.
We began walking and within a couple of blocks we saw considerably more damage. When I first saw this van, I thought it had plowed into the wall but then realized it was the other way around.
There is something very striking about the simplicity of this stump. As if its a quiet and unpretentious monument to the destruction all around: symbolizing the splintered remains of the community.
I strongly suspect that this chair was just as it is in the picture before the tornado hit. It seemed rather poignant, sitting there in front of the house in its stripped down condition. If it did land there as a result of the tornado, how curious that it seems so at home.
I had thought about bringing my chainsaw but it has been a while since I have used it and I wasn't sure what condition the chain was in. How embarrassing it would be to try and cut through a thick tree trunk with 20 people looking on and smoke bellowing from my dull chain. We were very fortunate to have a crew of Mennonites who not only had very well-sharpened chains but were also very adept at what they were doing. They sometimes reminded me of mountain goats the way they effortlessly climbed all over the trees.
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| A Cowboy Mennonite? |
The area we were working was in relatively good shape compared to what we have seen on TV. The houses were standing with only a few patches of roof missing. The most extensive damage was from the many very mature trees that were down. Much of our task was to remove the limbs and trunk parts that were cut by the sawers to the curbside. There was still plenty of small structural damage with sheds flattened, utility poles and transformers down and many damaged cars. A few blocks down the road we could catch a peek of the more extensive damage of total destruction. I know we were all eager to have a closer look.
This flower was in the back yard of one of the houses we were cleaning up. Very petite and delicate, one could not helped but be awed at the juxtaposition of this blossom that is perhaps 1-2 cm surviving while all around is so much destruction.
I found the way that the siding peeled away from the house rather amusing. A perhaps cruel smile peeking out from behind the bushes.
Behind the house above was a large shed with lots of family belongings. It wasn't completely flattened but rather squashed and mostly still upright. The wall had fallen away and revealed the contents. At the edge lay this cigar box with cards, neatly stacked and still dry.
We kept working houses down the road, making our way closer to where the devastation was so great that our services would have been useless. Rather than dragging branches to the curbside, bulldozers would be needed to plow under what remained of houses. We finally got a closer look and we knew this still wasn't the worst as there were still walls standing. Still, we were all in a bit of shock, the scene being very surreal.
Kelly Ewing and his tattooed arms.
After lunch, we ended up at a house with some rather extensive damage. Paul, the owner, allowed me to go in and take some pictures.
He rode out the tornado in this closet. When the storm was over, he knew his roof had blown off but the ceiling seemed to be intact. He stayed in the living room for about 30 minutes and decided to go down the hallway. Just as he did, the ceiling collapsed.
Above the living room, the sky was clearly visible through the ceiling joists.
It was truly amazing to see how well our large group worked. By the end of the day, on our final house, we very quickly cleared a back yard of a massive tree that the cutters worked on. I decided to catch Suzanne, the assistant Rector, as she carried out a log from the backyard. Never did I think I would capture her with such a searching look to the heavens.
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| John and Betty, the owners of the last house we worked on. |
This flower was in a boxed garden bed just at the base of a tree that had extensive damage. Again, the contrast of the untouched boxed garden caught all of our attention.
On the ride back to the original staging area, we passed this flag.
In memory to the people who died and to the community of Joplin, we wish you the best in your recovery and healing process.
Today's Ride: 60mins. 11.07 miles. 65 degrees. Miles YTD: 3.072.44
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