Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts

By Alyce Wilson

As we batten down the hatches on the East Coast, waiting for the full impact of Hurricane Isabel, I fret and my dog sleeps.

I fret because everything I've ever written is kept in plastic storage containers in the basement, which has a tendency to take in water. I'm trying to determine whether all these bins need to come upstairs.

My dog is sleeping because that's what she does on gray days. She's never written anything in her life and wouldn't store it in plastic bins in the basement, if she had.

Since I'm too scattered to come up with anything new, here's another flashback, which ran in the Milton Standard-Journal on June 5, 1998.

Tornado lessons

Driving back from the Warrior Run commencement ceremony on Tuesday night, I could have died.

Well, that's what I was thinking at the time. A blue tension electrified the air; funky looking clouds swirled in the sky; rain drove in sheets. As I sped down Front Street in Milton, hail pummeled my truck. A tornado was scheduled to twist through Milton in a matter of minutes.

That's when I realized, I have no basement.

Pink Floyd hummed on the radio as I turned the wheel and headed toward my mom's house, thinking "home." I wondered if I'd make it or if the tornado would spin across the river, pluck up my puny truck, and toss me into oblivion.

Across the river, the rain was already gone; it had blown through the Lewisburg area at 35 miles an hour, headed east toward Danville. I knew, deep down, that I was safe, but I stayed in Mom's basement for awhile, just to be sure.

The dog watched us with confusion, as he tried to get comfortable on the cellar steps. Why on earth were these people down here? When would we go back upstairs, where the carpet was comfy and the light was better?

I remembered something my brother had said to me only last weekend: "You know you're getting older when you have a lot of 'I could have died' stories."

But from these heart-pumping escapes, we can draw strength. Like Carlos Castenada wrote in The Teachings of Don Juan, the first step to a shaman's power is realizing that Death lurks behind your left shoulder.

In other words, none of us is immortal. But we can live to the fullest the moments that we have. Before I lose you by getting sappy, let me share a few of the lessons I gathered in Tuesday night's race with a tornado.

o Family is where it's at. Sure, I could have huddled in the basement in the Warrior Run High School -- and maybe I should have -- but I was willing to risk being crushed by terrific winds to spend those moments with family instead.

o Know what's really important. You know what I took in the basement with me? My purse, my camera bag and my notebook. The tornado could take my pick-up truck and all its contents, but I was not going to let it steal tomorrow's story! Whether that's noble or pathetic, I can't tell you.

o Cats truly are different from dogs. In the case of a tornado, a dog will follow you into the basement and stare at you with befuddled eyes. A cat, on the other hand, will dash into the wind and, for all we know, spin around for awhile in gale force blasts. Then he will arrive at your door, hours later, slightly damp and purring.

o Always buy (or rent) a house with an actual basement. (Or, at least one you're willing to enter in case of an emergency.)

o Wear comfortable shoes. I have a pair of sandles that makes my ankle turn unexpectedly when I walk too fast. Fortunately, I was wearing my clunky black shoes that night. I could never have outrun a tornado in those lame sandles.

o You really don't need that pack of chocolate donuts. Embarrassing confession: On my way to shelter, I almost stopped at a Coastal Mart and bought some of those chocolate frosted Donut Gems. This despite the fact that I'm on a diet. This despite the fact that a tornado could well have been gaining on me. Essentially, I had to choose between chocolate donuts and avoiding death. And I hesitated.

It all worked out for the best, though. Mom had saved me some chocolate cupcakes.

Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson

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