In my case, these fear tactics generate a response similar to the towns’ people to the boy who cried wolf. I am, in a word, cynical. I won’t worry until I hear tornado sirens.
The quiet suburban neighborhood I live in is far from traditional tornado paths. The infamous May 3rd tornado of 1999 did not come significantly close to this area. Tornadoes this weekend, along the Texas panhandle, and in southern Kansas, were significant distances from Oklahoma City, which is almost dead center of the state.
There were a number of tornado warnings last night. The closest I’m aware of was near Wolf, which is almost 70 miles southeast of OKC. As I say, I’ve gotten skeptical of the constant barrage of mostly redundant information provided by local TV. I’ve chosen to wait for the sirens.
Once I hear the sirens, then I turn on the TV to see how close the system is. Otherwise, I refuse to get caught up in their manipulation.
I almost turned on the tube early this morning, even though there were no sirens. I became aware of repeated lightening strikes a bit before 3 a.m. It was a major lightshow, and one could barely say "one Mississippi" between the flash of the lightening and the thunder. This told me the system was quite near.
I wasn't afraid, really, but DJ was. She ran from window to window meowing. She did her own form of feline storm tracking.
Try sleeping through thunder and meowing. It's an effective alarm system. However, I was still groggy enough to lack the inertia to get out of bed.
Happily, DJ and I survived. By the time I got up (around 6), there was only a shallow stream of water down the middle of the street; the water in the gutter was only about three inches deep. Easily passable.
Coworkers' yards flooded. One lives just a mile or so north of me; the other lives several miles south. So, I count myself lucky.
And we're all lucky compared to the people of Greensburg, KS.
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