The beginning of the "New"

March 2, 2012 seems a lifetime ago. On that date, I did my usual Friday, unemployed, 'woe is me,' sort of routine. We in eastern Kentucky were being warned of severe weather and possible tornadoes. We get those warnings a lot and rarely do they heed any actual danger that comes to fruition, so I baked cookies. (if you know me - that seems completely logical)
I live with my dad (Pa) and step-mother (Pat). He and I were home with the animals. She, in the next town over visiting her daughter and granddaughter. Pa and I had the television tuned to the weather, watching the storm system move toward us. Red cells were covering the region. We lost power JUST as the last batch of cookies came out of the oven. *priorities, people... priorities* I had already melted the butter for the frosting and continued with my task: Heart-shaped, chocolate chip, frosted cookies.
I looked to the living room and through the windows... Saw that the sky was darkening and heard Pa go out the front door. I followed. As he and I stood there, I looked up and saw something I recognized from years before. "Pa, you know what that is?"
"What?" he said.
"THAT is a shelf cloud."
He chuckled, "Well, what is a shelf cloud?"
"THAT is what tornadoes come out of. Time to go inside. Seriously. Inside!"
We came inside to the inner most room with no windows as there is no cellar or basement. We gathered the pups, weather radio, battery-operated lanterns, pillows, and reading material (*priorities*) and settled down to wait out what was surely nothing more than frightening clouds. Then, the phone rang. It was a family friend calling to ask if we had heard from Dave, dad's brother. Reports were that a tornado had swept across Main Street and the surrounding area in West Liberty. Uncle Dave lived just down a hill from Main Street. We had not heard from him and the phone lines had disconnected. 
We sat for two hours, listening to winds and the weather radio. (tangent: during that time, we had an interesting discussion regarding the old black and white, portable television we had somewhere... that needed batteries... and wouldn't it have been useful? realized later that with the new, digital regulations, it would have been useLESS) The lovely, electronic voice on the weather radio kept warning to stay away from "win-dooooes" and telling of a tornado sighted on Liberty Road in West Liberty, KY. Our ridge sits above Liberty Road. We hadn't felt a thing. After it seemed the worst had passed, we had no power, no land line, and no cell signal. We were cut off from the world and frightened for Uncle Dave.
Dad and I gathered the essentials... survival knives, water, and firearms - and headed to town to check on Dave. After getting in Dad's truck and heading down the narrow driveway, we discovered our path was block by what seemed at the time to be one gargantuan Pine Tree.  Plan B: Pat's second vehicle was within walking distance, parked at her brother's house. We set off on foot to the other car. At some point in all this, I had cell signal for just moments in which I sent a text message to Pat and to bestie Val in Richmond, letting them know Dad and I were OK. While en route to the other vehicle, we met Pat's brother. He was fine and had watched the tornado come up over the ridge, further down from our location.
Dad and I drove over Index hill toward West Liberty, where traffic was stopped. There were EMT, Rescue Workers, policemen... a lot of uniformed officers stopping traffic and turning it away. The gentlemen who stopped us told us no one was being allowed in town and he had no other information than that, but to try back in an hour.
Dad and I returned Pat's car to her brother's house, came back to the house, grabbed two hand saws, and went back to the Pine Tree. Now, a month later, the carcass of that Pine Tree looks pretty minuscule. However, at 10 o'clock on a Friday night while waiting to check on the health and safety of a loved one... it seemed pretty massive. I am pretty sure HAND SAWS did not help that perception. ha ha
We finally cut the tree enough to drag it to the side and get by in the truck. Once over Index  Hill, we were again stopped and told there was no entry. I asked if we could get to the hospital on Wells Hill, to check victims for my uncle and the officer replied, "The hospital is gone, too." THAT was when the severity of the situation struck home with me. (As it turned out, it wasn't GONE, but severely damaged.) We asked the officer what our options were regarding information about my uncle. He suggested we could pull over on the Index side of the bridge leading to town and see if we could be allowed to walk in. Dad and I gathered our essentials and prepared to 'go in.' We were stopped as was everyone else. No entry. Period. Frightening does not begin to describe how that felt... As luck would have it, however, a friend of my Uncle's who was an emergency worker of sorts, was walking out of town as we were standing there, deciding what to do. Dad saw him and yelled to him if he had heard anything about Dave. He yelled back that someone had been to check on him and he was fine. The house had damage, but Dave was fine.
We could go home... and did... The house was freezing, but we had a house... a roof... our own beds. First thing Saturday morning, we got up and NEEDED to do something... anything... information was scarce... we just knew something truly bad had happened to our town. I packed my 'bug out bag' (details on the hilarious things that seemed necessary in that moment to follow at a later date) and Pa and I headed for Dave's. Again, no entrance into town. 
We turned around and headed toward Woodsbend and the animal shelter, thinking if there had been a tornado, the animal shelter may need help getting ready/preparing for displaced animals. No one was there when we arrived. We headed back toward town to the home of Vicky Stacy, the director of the animal shelter. As we drove up to her family's home, we saw entire lines of trees fallen... some uprooted... some broken off... the house had been spared. Once speaking with C.K., we realized the damage was wide-spread across West Liberty. His daughter, Jodi, had severe damage as did the rest of Keeton Heights. Rumor was that a Red Cross Shelter was being set up at Morgan Central Elementary School, so Dad and I headed there.
I spent that first day helping move boxes, get the kitchen at the school running to feed hundreds, including the displaced, the homeless, the victims, the volunteers, the workers... I worked alongside complete strangers and folks I hadn't seen in a decade. We did the best we could. After a long day, I went home... freezing... but home...
Sunday morning, I returned to the R.C. Center. Mid afternoon, I heard that Crockett, in the outlying area of the county, had also been hit. Rumors and stories were rampant about people begging for food by the roadside. What was truth and what was exaggerated, I will never know. What I did know was if the tornado that reportedly tore apart the core of West Liberty had also hit Crockett, help was needed there, too. 
I am not sure *how* it occurred... but... two school buses were loaded with supplies and several of us volunteered to go with them to unload the goods once in Crockett. I will never forget that bus ride through West Liberty. 


Ripped. 
Shredded. 
Devastated. 
Beaten. 
Destroyed. 
Crushed. 
Fallen.


I kept waiting for the tears to come... and waiting... as we drew near my 'family church,' West Liberty Christian Church, of which my grandfather, great-uncle, and cousin had each been minister, I saw the worst imaginable: Ruins. Crumbled ruins. Still, no tears.




***to be continued***