Suddenly, there were black clouds swirling on the porch! I saw them clearly. A deafening roar…all is in darkness…then an unnatural quiet.
It was before dawn on March 21, 1949. It was my sixth birthday, and we had just experienced a tornado. The weather had been exceptionally unsettling that morning. My mama had awakened me and I was sitting on my dad’s lap when the tornado hit.
As the storm moved on, and the night gave way to the morning’s light, it was obvious our neighbors had not fared as well as us. Not knowing what would await them, grim-faced, with shovels and axes in hand, my brother and my dad made their way to the Dahnman’s home. It’s what neighbors do. What awaited them? Only time would tell.