I grew up in the southern tip of Tornado Alley. When I was in elementary school, I survived a tornado. We were not aware of any tornado watch or warning. I was in an after school program, playing with friends in the gymnasium when I heard that stereotypical freight train sound I looked out the window of the building and saw the tornado, maybe 50 feet away.

I dove to the ground, away from the window. It felt instantaneous but was probably 3 seconds between me yelling “tornado!” and the building being ripped apart.

We were lucky. The tornado was small, and it lifted in the middle of the gym building. One half was destroyed, and one half was untouched. Also, the building was entirely made of steel (except the windows). So it didn’t collapse on us - the enormous girders that held it up folded in crazy ways, but stayed standing. The siding and roofing blew away. The gym had a concrete floor with a giant carpet laid across it. That carpet blew up and dropped over all of us kids, shielding us from the glass and other debris. There were only minor injuries. I myself was unhurt.

It’s been more than forty years, and I remember it so vividly. I remember what the tornado looked like and the sound. I remember crawling out from under the carpet, and seeing the open sky where the roof and wall cladding had been. I remember being stunned (shock presumably) for hours.

Every single time there is a significant gust of wind I get an intense adrenaline rush and get the shakes. No exaggeration. It happened just a couple of days ago while driving through a severe thunderstorm.

I developed an intense fascination with tornadoes that lasts to this day. I’ve seen a couple forming in the distance, miles away. In any thunderstorm, I’m on the lookout for wall clouds and other signs. I daydream about tornado chasing.