Thoughts & Prayers in the aftermath of Tornados

My thoughts and prayers go out to all those impacted by the recent bout of tornados sweeping through Texas and Oklahoma.  May God especially Bless and watch over the families who have lost loved ones to these storms.  May those who have lost homes find their way to healing and the resources they need in order to begin the process of re-building.

I saw on a friend's Facebook page this evening how a community is coming together to donate clothes, food and other essential items to storm victims in nearby towns via a school gym at a local elementary school.  Also saw postings for important items found in an effort to identify and reunite them with their rightful owners:  a high school sports letter jacket ... a camera with photographs of a new baby delivered in the hospital not long ago.  Kind of renews your faith in your fellow man to see such an outpouring of love and support.  God Bless one and ALL!

Image Source

(A close match for my recollection of my father's painting and the image,

in my own mind, of the actual twister from my porch-side view)

Thankfully, thus far, my family and friends in Texas and friends in Oklahoma have survived these storms without any major damage.  I actually remember witnessing a tornado, firsthand and up-close, when I was 5 years old, living in Oklahoma.  To the best of my recollection the tornado I witnessed back then was huge, muddy-grey in color and spiraling madly in the not far-off distance from our home in Stillwater.  For some reason, at the time, I had been sitting on the front porch of our old house eating dried cheerios, while my father attempted to paint --onto canvas-- the spiraling beast dancing about before us.  This particular tornado was probably about a mile or two away from us at the time, so we probably weren't in any immediate danger.  I remember watching this twister move across the landscape, uprooting everything in its path and spewing debris back out with a vengeance.  I was too young at the time to fully comprehend that I should have been afraid of this tornado.  I can still see this twister spiraling about before me in my mind, as if the cyclone were right in front of me in this very moment.  I recall feeling the immense energy ... the power and intensity wielded by this storm.  That tornado was definitely a force of nature to be reckoned with, showing no mercy whatsoever to those unfortunate enough to be caught within its grasp.  The randomness of the funnel's motion, its indiscriminate behavior in selecting targets still strikes me with a confounding significance even to this very day.  I remember watching the tornado funnel work its way right towards us ... and I even have a vague recollection of my mother --clutching my baby sister in her arms-- calling for my dad and me to get off the porch and under the house into the safety of the storm shelter as the twister closed the distance on us ... but just when it seemed as if this twister was going to come right down the street, to swallow up my house --and even then fear had not found its way into me-- the writhing fury suddenly decided it would instead take a ninety degree turn and head off in another direction all-together.  So I never did have to go down into that storm shelter, and my father's painting turned out pretty cool from what I am able to recall of it.  I guess we were some of the lucky ones that summer evening so long ago?

"Save the Pear Trees" ...

A friend of mine was lamenting how the city had just recently gone onto her mother's property --after the mother's passing-- and bulldozed not just the buidlings, but also a beloved Willow tree that my friend had grown up with.  Seems that the city had not just cleared a lot of land in one heartless fell swoop, my friend felt almost as if her fond childhood memories  --memories of watching the tree grow, climbing amongst its branches, sheltering under its loving wispy boughs-- had also been swept away in the process. 

I told my friend, DiAnne, that I could sincerely relate to her loss as I had had dozen or more beautiful Pear trees taken out along my street when I was little --living in Oklahoma.  I told her that event in my life had truly torn at my heartstrings. I then jokingly told DiAnne that the latter event in my life had probably been the beginning of the rebel --the crusader of justice for the 'helpless individual'-- taking root in me.  Well then, DiAnne, of course wanted to hear my story.  So I took a little bit of time and wrote it down for her. 

I was able to post Part 1 of the story for her on Facebook, but FB seems to be balking at Part 2 for some reason?  Facebook the critic ; )  Anyhow, thought I would just post it here for her to read and perhaps you might enjoy as well?  This story may give those of you that know me personally a better idea of where it is that I am often coming from.  So read or don't, for the rest of you ...But this is for you, DiAnne.  I truly have heartfelt empathy for you in the loss of your beloved Willow tree.  Love to you, my friend.  ♥

"Save the Pear Trees!!" - Part 1 
(a.k.a. Isabelle the 'activist', the early years ; )


We lived in an old house, in an older neighborhood, surrounded by really tall trees. Then again, when you are only four years old perhaps all trees appear to be really tall? The trees in my neighborhood were mostly Pecan, Walnut, Sycamore and Oak to the best of my recollection, but there were also many ornamentals in front yards and lining the sidewalk expanse of street-side yard owned by the city. Along my street were rows of Pear trees. The Pear trees in my neighborhood weren’t just ornamentals either; these trees actually bore fruit every summer. I can still vividly recall the beautiful white blooms, the sweet smell of flowered essence, buzzing bees and the excitement when the pears were finally ripe enough to pick and eat.

I loved all the trees in my neighborhood. These trees were fabulous for climbing, building forts and all sorts of other creative endeavors, but the Pear trees had a special place in my heart because they were so very beautiful and they bore the most succulent fruit in summertime. For some reason –being 4 years old, I guess, and still filled with such a sense of wonder for the world around me—I got the biggest thrill out of being able to walk across the street, pick a handful of pears and then eat them straight off the tree. Of course, I had to be lifted up most of the time in order to reach the fruit-bearing branches towering way above my head. I had learned that you don’t eat the ones that had fallen on the ground as these were usually rotten and filled with all sorts of insects, which although cool were not recommended for consumption.

As in all really good stories, there is usually a problem that must be solved, a really bad villain and if the story is lucky: an amazing super-hero who sweeps in to the save the day, right? Well in my story here, the fruit laying on the ground wound up being “the problem” at some point. Neighbors began complaining about the swarms of flies and other insects that were attracted to the fallen fruit and since the land on which trees grew belonged to the city, it seemed that none of the neighbors wanted to assume the chore of picking up the rotten fruit. Enter “the bad guy”: the city … who I happened to think at the time was actually a person named “city.” Well, it turned out that the city didn’t want to assume the chore of picking up the rotten pears either; that is to say, that the city didn’t want to pay for the rotten fruit to be picked up. I guess, a more cost effective solution was deemed to be cutting the Pear trees down altogether.

@Copyrighted Story, June 2012.  Isabelle Black Smith:  All Rights Reserved.

[ Continued in a Note (click to continue reading) "Save the Pear Trees!!"  Part 1 & 2

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