Tornado: the best-laid schemes
Here’s a poignant photo of a man named Greg Cook hugging his dog Coco after his East Limestone, Alabama home was destroyed by a recent tornado and Coco was found inside the ruins:
It’s one of many photos in this slideshow that are emblematic of what it’s like to lose so much and yet salvage something of intense value: life.
We like to think of our homes as oases, islands of safety in a world that can sometimes be harsh. Homes are not only where we conduct the most intimate parts of our lives, they’re also where we store our goods—including items of memory, such as precious old photos—and where we give full vent to our aesthetic sense. That little knickknack we picked up when we went to Italy (or Niagara Falls, or the corner store), that painting or that framed poster or that vase or those books or the curtains with the pretty fabric that went so well with the couch, all go to create an environment that expresses the unique us-ness of us.
All gone when the great winds come. And there’s nothing we can do about it except hug the dog, or cry, or do both together, comfort the living and mourn the dead.
Some musicians understand the phenomenon:
As do many poets (excerpt from “To a Mouse, On Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough, November 1785,” by Robert Burns. Foggage=coarse grass; snell=bitter; coulter=part of a plough; cranreuch=frost; gang aft agley=oft go astray):
…Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell-
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble,
Has cost thee mony a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain;
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an ‘men
Gang aft agley,
An’lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!Still thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me
The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e’e.
On prospects drear!
An’ forward, tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!
An analogy too near makes me fear
what is too dear and what I share.
Cancer is less than what they bore.
The body’s sore is less the horror
than soul’s cutoff and hell’s trough
which feeds and fumes the lasting tombs.
When I see on TV piles of rabble at the path of tornado where houses used to be, in addition to horror another thought comes to me: why all these houses look like they were just theatrical decorations, made from cardboard and thin wooden planks, as if no structural strength was ever considered in designing them? This certainly is not my idea of how houses should be built. Probably, even much more strong constructions would be flattened by full force of tornado, but this feeling of children toy quality of American country houses still lingers.
My parents went through this, in 2003 – their house, which they had built themselves, and furnished with all the familier family things that they had inherited – burned to the ground in twenty minutes. They had just enough time to get themselves, their pets and a few things out of the house … but there were so many family keepsakes and treasures … just gone, like that.
My little brother said afterwards, with rather grim cheer; “Well, that will cut down the arguments on who gets what!”
Curiously, when they did rebuild, and fitted out the house again, they bought mostly second-hand furniture and ornaments. My mother explained that it just felt more comfortable, that way, to have things that were slightly worn.
I live in hurricane and tornado country. I keep important papers and old family photos in the basement.
Sergey, it has little to do with construction and more to do with luck. My sissy and her husband live in a Victorian house in Ohio. It’s got block foundation, but the rest of it is wooden. It and the Victorian house next door are the oldest houses in the entire neighborhood because a tornado in the 1910s ripped apart every other building on the main road, including two elegant brick homes and a sturdy bank building.
In the 1990s, they woke to a strange noise and their ears popping. Her husband recognized it as the sound of a tornado, but they couldn’t get to the root cellar in time. When it cleared, they found that a chimney had been torn off and a piece of lumber for who knows where had pierced the roof of the garage (the old carriage house). The neighbors had a few things blown off their decks, but that was it.
My dad said he’d rather face a hurricane again than a tornado, because the latter is unpredictable and almost (even now) without warning.
Sergey:
That’s a good topic for discussion. I know little or nothing about architecture and building construction, but I’ll just throw out a few ideas:
– Tornadoes are incredibly powerful storms. Their winds are stronger that the largest hurricanes, and they are concentrated in a very small area.
– The midwestern United States is the most active region for tornadoes in the world.
– A strong tornado will simply eradicate anything above ground, including giant trees which have stood for centuries.
– But since individual tornadoes affect a small area, the chances of any specific house being hit are small, like the odds of being struck by lightning as you walk down the street.
– Tornado shelters are built underground.
– Therefore, any house that can be built to withstand a tornado would also have to be built underground, perhaps with a streamlined concrete roof like a missile blockhouse.
– Houses built like that would be very expensive and time-consuming to build; thus few could afford them.
– Many European buildings that have stood for centuries were built of stone, but that’s an expensive and time-consuming method of building.
– There are many places in America where there is not sufficient stone for building in that manner.
– Modern American houses constructed of wood frames and gypsum drywall have become prevalent since the 1950s. They are cheaper to build than older methods and can be mass-produced; therefore more people can afford to buy their own homes, rather than live in large apartment buildings. For most homes in the country, the chances of being hit by a tornado are very small. I live in such a house, and it has stood for 55 years. Fortunately, I don’t live in a tornado-prone area.
I forgot to mention in my earlier comment that there are ways to harden a wood-frame house against windstorms.
Typically, when a wood-frame house is hit by a windstorm (either tornado or hurricane), the roof is peeled off and then the unsupported walls collapse. Some protection against this can be achieved by using steel plates to reinforce the attachment of the roof joists to the wall studs. I believe they’re called “tornado clips” or “hurricane straps”.
Most older homes don’t have them, but when I had my roof replaced about five years ago I insisted on having them installed. There are also methods of anchoring the wall studs to the concrete foundation, but it’s difficult and expensive to retrofit existing houses in this manner.
Hopefully, somebody who knows more than I do about construction and building codes can provide some more information.
RickL, here’s one site for DIY hurricane-proofing (there are lots more).
http://www.diylife.com/2010/09/02/hurricane-protection/
Probably, even much more strong constructions would be flattened by full force of tornado
Consider that an EF-5 tornado can suck blacktop off of roads, and remove foundations out of the ground. So, yes, anything struck by a top-end tornado will sustain a great deal of damage, most likely of the catastrophic variety.
On the other hand, you can now own a concrete – including the roof – home. To echo RickL’s remarks, keeping your roof on and mostly intact gives you a fighting chance, be it hurricane or tornado.