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1974 Tornado: Losing Home, Finding a New Way of Seeing

1974 Tornado

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When I was in 8th grade, and my sister Valerie was in 11th grade at Ballard High School. We got home about an hour before the 1974 tornado hit our house.

1974 Tornado: Losing Home

The birds stopped singing, and our dog didn’t want to go outside. Dad called and told us there’s a big storm coming from Brandenburg. We looked out and saw our big oak tree swaying in the wind like a small stick.

Dick Gilbert and I rushed to the basement when we heard a loud noise like a train coming. We felt the air pressure change suddenly and heard things smashing against the basement windows. The house shook violently, and we were scared for our lives. Then, suddenly, everything stopped.

When we got to the basement stairs, we looked up and saw that our house was gone, and we could see the sky instead.

As we climbed out, we heard scary noises like gas pipes hissing and electric lines popping. We saw our neighbors, and hugged them with relief, but worried about others. It looked strange, like London during a bombing.

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We saw lots of neighbors at a friend’s house, far from the worst-hit area. Later, our parents came home from work downtown. They cried, but not because they lost anything. They were just happy we were safe and okay.

That night, our family went back to where our house used to be, which was destroyed. We started collecting important things and trying to figure out how to move forward after everything was ruined. Later, we gathered at a neighbor’s house. While we were eating sandwiches, we heard our dad on the radio. He was talking on the Milton Metz WHAS call-in show. Instead of talking about what we lost, he said that he managed apartments at Kentucky Towers. He told the listeners that anyone who was going through a tough time could stay in one of the apartments for free if there was an empty one.

The tornado was scary, but it taught me a lot. It helped me realize what matters in life and showed me how to become stronger through tough experiences.

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