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 Texas : Features : Columns : "The Girl Detective's Theory of Everything"
Tornado Season
by Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal

Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
I have lived in several different parts of the United States and I have to say that I like Oklahoma. I like Oklahomans. I have always found them to be friendly, considerate, helpful people. In a word, nice. The vast majority of Oklahomans are nice people. Down-to-earth, kind, modest, charitable. Once I was driving down the road with a VW van full of Cub Scouts and out of the blue the engine died and would not start again. We were on Classen Avenue, in the left hand lane in rather heavy late afternoon traffic. There was a truck in the lane behind us. We were going nowhere fast and I began to fret. The last thing I needed was a big ol’ truck behind me blaring it’s horn for me to get out of the way when there was nowhere for me to go and no way to get there. And, you will be happy to know, that is not what I got.

What I got was four strong, young, handsome house painters who hopped out of that big ol’ truck and pushed that van full of Cub Scouts safely into a nearby parking lot for us. We gave them a great big Bear Cub growl and salute by way of thanks and I called my husband to come do his Volkswagen voodoo. All was well and a bad situation was made better by some kind Oklahoman strangers.

This is just one example of the Oklahoma Spirit and I am sure that you are not surprised by it. I could relate other more dramatic examples, but you already know many, I am sure. In addition to being awfully nice people, I have found Oklahomans to be very modest as well. Most of the time. There is one thing, however that Oklahomans can be a little cocky about.

Oklahomans can be a little cocky when it comes to their weather. You might argue that they have earned that right, and I would have to agree. I grew up in southwestern New Mexico and to my knowledge, we didn’t have tornadoes. We had whipping wind in the spring. We had dust devils that reached way up high in the sky. We had some pretty dramatic thunderstorms. But I don’t remember hearing about any tornadoes. As a result of not having grown up with tornadoes, I do not like them. A bit. I know Oklahomans – a lot of Oklahomans– who pop right outside onto their front porches to watch when they hear that siren. Not me. I run for cover. Can’t help it. When my children were little they intuitively picked up on the subtle clues that Mommy was frightened and they became frightened as well. Maybe they were subconsciously aware of my increased respiratory rate, or my faintly trembling hands. Maybe the mother/ child bond was so strong that my distress telegraphed itself psychically. Or maybe their sharp little ears noted the sound of me shrieking, "Get your shoes on and get in the closet! We are all going to die! I love you babies, never forget that!"

My husband, the native Oklahoman, was left to do damage control. A job he is well suited for, as he is unflutterable. While the children were growing up, Mike would wait until the weatherman said something like, "Sowdal family, find your shoes! You are going to die!" and then he would stand up and stretch. He’d say something like, "All this storm talk sure has made me hungry for a candy bar. Any of you kids want one?" They all did, every time, what a surprise, and off Michael would go into the horizontal rain and crashing thunder for a round of convenience store candy bars. Just to make the point that there was really nothing to worry about.

There was a big storm heading for OKC the other evening just as my shift ended. I called Mike. Should I wait for a while? "Nah, you’re okay. Just pull over if it gets bad." What should I do if it gets bad? Should I crawl under the car? "Nah, just pull into McDonald’s." Why? Do they have storm shelters at McDonald’s? "Nope, but they do have Chicken McNuggets." Cocky booger.
© Elizabeth Bussey Sowdal
"The Girl Detective's Theory of Everything" - July 15, 2005 Column
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