April, 1974

PBS doesn't have weather alerts. Thank God the big picture window’s curtains were open. An unbelievable sight that had all three adults paralyzed as they looked out at it for a moment. A whirling gigantic force that is quickly making its way across the open field. The children, laying across the shag carpet, eyes glued to Sesame Street, are blissfully unaware of the approaching danger.

It is the thought of the children that frees them from the paralytic fear. They run towards them.

He grabs his daughter. She doesn't have time to ask what's wrong as her mommy lifts up her baby brother. They run out the door, followed by their friend, who has been visiting.

Running towards the garage and the beetle bug, doors are jerked open.

“Put them on the floor and lay on top of them.” The father instructs his wife. He lays his daughter down. She looks at him with eyes wide with fear.

“Daddy?” 

He tries to smile. All around them the roar of the monster grows louder.  “It will be okay, pumpkin. We are going to go real fast.” a nod to his wife as she lays her crying brother beside her and she places her body between death and her children. 

The two men get in front and, as promised, they go fast. She doesn't understand why she is on the floor, why mommy is over her and bubba, but she trusts them. Her daddy said everything will be okay so it will be.

The sound behind them gets louder. Are they on a train track? “Choo Choo.” The little boy hiccups as the novelty of the situation stops his tears.

“God protect us. God be with us.” The father prays as he drives as fast as the bug allows towards safety and away from the whirling wind that carries death behind them. Over her children, the mom is praying the same. She is protected from what her husband and their friend sees. The destruction that they pass in the shaking car. 

Houses with no bigger pieces than  a match. Cars in trees. Bodies, oh God help! All the bodies.Men, women, children. He presses down harder on the gas. The tiny car shudders but gives a bit more. 

Ironically, the wind helps. Pressing the car faster then the engine would allow. Not that any other this is obvious, at the time. Their entire focus is on getting to safety. No thoughts get in beyond that. Not then. Later they will go over everything. Later they will understand how incredibly blessed they were. He will report to the local paper that there were six people in the car, himself, his wife, the children, his friend, and God.

Finally, they make it out of the suck zone and into the next town. He slowly lets his foot off the gas and the car drifts to a stop. He buries his head in the steering wheel and begins to weep. His wife rises and looks around before allowing her children to rise.

“Mommy, what happened?” Her daughter asks. 

“Choo Choo. Bye bye?” Her brother adds.

“Is it?” The wife asks looking behind the. She doesn't see anything but…

“We outran it,” He replies, “oh my God! We outran it.” 

“We are close to,” their friend names another friend, “we could…” he can't go on either, overwhelmed by what they just went through.

“Good idea.” He takes a few deep breaths before starting to drive again.

They call the rest of their family that was in the monster's path. Praise God, everyone is alright.

Over the next few days, they monitor the news from their friends' house. The pictures coming out are horrific. The power of the tornado is shown in the little things: straws embedded in trees and huge things: entire cul-de-sacs without one building left standing.

It takes a week before the small town is reopened to its surviving residents. He drives back in, leaving his wife and children safe with their friends

He doesn't know what to expect. What he finds is more devastating than he could imagine. Downtown is gone, the high school is gone. He stops and stares at the building where, had the tornado came through just an hour later, it would have been full of children. A shudder goes through him. No matter what he finds, his family is alive. It is a blessing he can't take for granted.

Slowly driving through the wreckage he makes his way towards where his home used to be fearing what he would find.

“Christ Alive,” a prayer not a curse as he enters the neighborhood where his children were playing just ten days ago. The landscape is unrecognizable. A war zone has replaced the quiet family neighborhood. He has trouble even finding his street. Every street is covered by bits and pieces of people's lives. Dolls wet with rain water that has started washing the mud off, books soggy and torn to pieces, clothing hanging from trees and pieces of foundations, where houses used to rest. 

He recognizes the place where his house used to be by the pieces of their neighbor’s house. As for his, not one stone or piece of wood lays on top of the other.  Stepping carefully out, he stands and weeps. Yes, his family is safe and he is beyond relieved about that but seeing the place where his family lived just gone, it does something to the soul.

Tiptoeing through the boards and bricks, the scattered furniture, the broken toys, the soggy clothes, he looks for anything salvageable. After an hour, he actually finds something.

Tossed among the devastation is an unbelievable sight; his son's tonka trucks. His fragile emotions dissolve into a laugh . “Of all the things,” he thinks as he lifts them up, a few scratches but no real damage, “everything else gone. Tonka trucks.” 

Placing them in the back seat of the bug, he starts back towards his family. The rebuilding of their lives will start with a few scarred tonka trucks.