Sometimes the most incredible of days occur just after your most depressing day, and in the most unexpected fashion.
This was nevermore the case for us than on May 25, 2016. An unbelievable tornado occurred the day after I made a damning misjudgment, which led to missing one of the most chaotic storms in memory.
Today begins in Wichita, Kansas as a day of chores and maintenance, with no storm chasing expected to take place. The agenda includes doing our laundry for the first time in nearly two weeks.
Nothing like driving around the entire country smelling like shit thanks to a lack of opportunity to wash your clothes. Finally reaching a reasonably sized city and getting ample time to do laundry is an unusual godsend during these long trips.
Oh lord yes! Clean underwear, clean shirt, and a clean shaved face! I’m not a filthy hobo anymore! The rest of the list included cleaning out the dumpster (previously used as the car) as well as getting an oil change.
The Honda is now up to 237,000 miles; about 3,000 overdue for an oil change. This was a great cause of anxiety as this car is about the only material possession I could give two shits about.
Paying $80 for the exact oil that I change at home on my own for $25 [Mobil 1 Advanced Full Synthetic] and a shitty filter was a necessary but unfortunate dagger to the heart. Cry about it and move on.
Time to Kill
All of the annoying chores have now been completed, and it was time to roam around Wichita. There was only a marginal risk of severe weather today; tornado chances were the lowest they had been by far since we began this trip.
Let’s go explore Keeper of The Plains! This is a monument located in the heart of Wichita, where the Arkansas River splits into two separate streams (or merges together actually)
Before getting out of the car, I reluctantly decided to investigate the atmosphere. The process for this included lying the car seat all the way back with my feet on the dash, grabbing my phone, and hastily swiping the screen open while spilling donut crumbs everywhere.
The first thing I noticed about today was that I didn’t give a flying pig’s shit about the prospect of chasing after /yesterday’s demoralizing debacle./ The second thing I noticed was a very subtle but oh so important feature on the visible satellite image.
Located over north central Kansas was a subtle thin but long line of clouds extending about 100 miles east to west across the state. This was undoubtedly an outflow boundary–a boundary produced by the energy from previous storms that had remained in the atmosphere.
My conscious mind attempted to dismiss the presence of this important fact after yesterday’s heartbreak, but a seed of near certainty was planted into my subconscious. I applied a vigorous mental effort to keep my hopes from getting anywhere above zero, and Sarah and I hopped out of the car to explore Keeper of The Plains.
After spending around thirty minutes at the wonderful monument, we headed back to the car. I decided to take another look at the weather, still trying to convince myself to completely forget about taking any shot at chasing today.
The 1630Z (11:30am Central time) outlook from the Storm Prediction Center upgraded a portion of central Kansas back to a slight risk. The outlook suggested that a relatively localized area of moisture convergence and very unstable air would be favorable for at least isolated severe storms.
I had not looked at this outlook until after 1:00pm, and shortly thereafter a mesoscale discussion for an upcoming watch was issued. The skies around Wichita were quickly filling up with sharp puffy Cumulus clouds.
The rapid development of this “Cufield”–meaning an area of dense growing cloudtowers in an unstable air mass–was indicative of storms firing sooner than later.
Change of Plans
We decided it was time to get the hell out of Wichita. First, we had to try the local fast food chain of burger places known as “Spangles.” There were signs every fifteen feet, and we were starving and in a hurry.
ZERO STARS. We waited for quite a while given there was only one person ahead of us in the drive-thru. I ordered a double cheeseburger and received a subpar ham and egg sandwich.
No matter, there was no time to waste! We were in a great hurry to screw up another day of storm chasing and tack on thousands of miles onto my old vehicle for no other apparent reason than to harm our own health.
Picture me fumbling a disappointing egg and cheese crap sandwich while depositing miscellaneous profanities and impurities into the car. Chunks of ham and cheese were splattering into my lap, while I hastily steered through traffic.
Kellogg Ave (US 54/400) is the main east-west highway that runs through the heart of Wichita. The highway is 5 lanes each way with frontage roads, and generally very busy and annoying/fun to navigate.
Amazingly, we had not traveled more than 5 miles, or twenty minutes, when a look out of the sun roof revealed nothing but clear blue sky. The air was also noticeably less moist than when we were sitting in that Spangle’s drive through lane just several miles to the east.
How the hell? I knew the dry line was very close to us, but I didn’t realize that it was literally directly on top of us in downtown Wichita.
–The dryline is an area where dry and moist air meet each other in the Great Plains, famous for the aid in production of severe weather–
The sudden disappearance of the field of wonderful poofy clouds and drier air meant we were west of the dryline, where storms would not be occurring. I could still see plenty of poofy clouds in the rearview mirror, so I immediately made a U-turn, sending the egg and cheesecrap bits all over the floor.
Remarkably we were still in the city limits of Wichita, just barely to the west of the loop freeway, yet the weather was completely different. I sped back to I235 and followed the bypass loop around to the north side of Wichita, and merged onto I-135 north.
“There’s the hotel!” We passed the Red Roof Inn from the previous night, now en route northwards towards that outflow boundary. I was desperately attempting to downplay the boundary for my own sanity’s sake.
Forty miles up the road, the field of poofy cumulus clouds had begun to diminish quite a bit, but was not completely gone. I decided to pull off of the interstate and sit on a gravel road for a while, waiting to see what shit the atmosphere was going to pull on us.
Nothing was going to happen today. It was nearly 5:00pm and the clouds were vanishing, not growing together or stronger. Looking on radar, there were some high storm tops showing up far to the southeast.
Shit. If that storm was going to fire, we would be too far away to catch up to it in time. Maybe we could, if I left right now and starting driving insanely fast back towards Wichita and then to the east.
We were not about to fall for that shit, however insanely stupid and yet seductive it seemed. There were numerous other storm chasers around that particular tower at the time. I decided it would be better to sit on a gravel road literally staring at the gravel and kicking it circles than to drive all that way and get pissed off yet again.
Of course, that outflow boundary was still simmering in the back of my mind, despite the fact that there was no indication of anything happening near it–at least not at this moment.
After twenty minutes of contemplation on what the hell to do, Sarah pointed out that there were now “echo tops” showing up to the north on radar. Initially I thought it was bullshit while lying face down in the driver seat.
Basically, the radar was detecting the top of a storm cloud shooting up into the atmosphere. There was no precipitation to be seen at the time, just the beginning of a potential thunderstorm reaching upwards and growing.
Before I could even get my feet off of the dash and onto the pedals, I was reaching to shift the car into drive with my knee and flopping around in my seat like a fishy gasping for breath.
Could it be so?
Speeding back down that gravel road to the interstate, I had to subconsciously reassure myself to not get my hopes up, and that nothing was going to occur today. It wasn’t working anymore; my subconscious was beginning to win this battle.
Less than twenty minutes later, the cruise control is set at 83mph heading north on I-135. The growing tower has come into our vision clearly, but is still fairly far off in the distance.
As we continue to hustle northwards, the storm tower is growing even taller and more impressive overall. The details are now becoming clearer as well, the updraft towers appear very sharp.
The anticipation was beginning to boil out of my subconscious mind and into my conscious mind and bodily expressions. “Zero expectations!” I began preaching adamantly, knowingly fully well that anymore disappointment would likely be enough to propel me into a mental institution.
This lonely storm tower was looking more incredible every minute that passed. More importantly, it was the only storm–and cloud–anywhere to be found in the area. The storm would have all of the atmospheric energy to itself and would not be competing for fuel with other storms in the area.
Cloud-to-ground lightning strikes from the ominous tall tower went from zero to numerous per minute in a remarkable amount of time. The anvil of the storm was spreading out rapidly and filling with mammatus clouds, some of which were directly over the top of the car.
Severe Thunderstorm Warning is now in effect for the storm, for 60mph wind and golf ball sized hail. There was no escaping the reality of what was going to be happening very soon. My heart was racing with anticipation, my face was glowing with excitement, and my gut was having a twinge of fear.
“Zero expectations!” I continued to shout as we rapidly crawled closer to this mind-blowing storm. Now within ten miles of the base, I rapidly created a plan of attack. We would be taking exit 93 and heading west as fast as possible.
There were less than five miles to go until the exit. The base of the storm was in clear site, and an ominous wall cloud was now hanging down.
As this organic energy machine continued to increase momentum churning across the open prairie of Saline county Kansas, the anticipation and excitement also continued to ramp up.
Every ten seconds seemed like an hour during the last three miles to the exit located just west of Salina Kansas. The wall cloud was now clearly rotating and we were going to be arriving underneath the mesocyclone at the most precise moment that could be planned out in a fantasy.
In the last quarter of a mile stretch until the off ramp, a little needle began to drop from the wall cloud. Gliding the wheel to the right and speeding down the ramp, the needle condensed into a definite funnel cloud.
Gut Feeling Confirmed
The excitement exploded out of me. I cautiously but furiously flew down the very rural off ramp, calculatingly not touching the brakes until just before it was too late for maximum dramatic whiplash effect.
After the very brief stop, old CRV immediately was open throttled to the redline again while the wheel was sharply cut left. We furiously reached 70mph again and there was virtually no one and nothing in sight, except the funnel that was all but touching the ground.
I screamed like a little girl and incessantly clapped so hard it stung like a bitch. This tornado evoked more unrestrainable excitement than any other I had witnessed, but not because of the tornado itself.
For starters, I didn’t even initially want to take this trip at all. The money wasn’t around, the car was in need of aid, and I had other priorities. More importantly now, we had completely blown the previous two days weather-wise; the day before being the “most incredibly best storm ever.”
The amount of aggravation, guilt, shame; but mostly self-dissonance along with feelings of idiocy and inadequacy building inside had been unbearable for the past day. I didn’t give a flying fuck about storm chasing anymore, I just wanted to go home, get a job, make some money, go to the beach and improve my physical health.
All of that overwhelming negativity was completely obliterated in the moment. I no longer felt like a heinous buffoon, and had a massive renewal in the passion of driving and pursuing storms and new destinations. My half-assed forecast and impromptu plan of action verified.
The internal voices of “I can’t predict shit” were vanquished, and it seemed as if this trip now had some meaning again.
Continuing west on Old US40, the funnel was fully condensed and appeared to almost certainly be touching the ground.
The excitement continued for a few moments as my arms and hands tingled all over. This was largely due to the excitement of the moment, but also because I clapped so psychotically hard its likely nerve cells were temporarily damaged.
Quickly falling back down off of that Cloud 9, I remembered that this tornado was not occurring in some empty void. While we were in a very rural and open landscape, someone’s farm or even house might be in the immediate path of this tornado. It was a relatively small and weak looking tornado, but it was still a tornado.
A little bit of guilt crept back in with this realization, and at this moment I also realized that there was still no Tornado Warning in effect for this storm. Approximately thirty seconds prior, I had managed to use the app on my phone to report the funnel cloud amidst all of the sudden excitement and chaos inside of the car.
Amazingly and with great relief, I was able to hit all of the correct buttons on the microscopic form on the phone. The report actually made it through immediately, instead of informing me that my password was incorrect, there was no cell service, or the GPS was indicating we were in North Korea.
“Wake up and issue a fucking tornado warning!” spilled out of my mouth. It took less than an additional minute before our phones finally blared the warning.
Calm Before the Storm
The funnel persisted for only another two minutes or so, before all but dissipating back into the clouds. This momentarily annoyed Sarah, who apparently was not able to get the perfect picture during this timeframe. I assured her that today was just beginning to unfold.
The next fifteen minutes involved little excitement as we stayed ahead of the storm by slowly moving east on Old US40, crossing past the exit we took to start the day. The storm was currently in limbo, but was secretly preparing to become a horrific monster.
Zigzagging our way south and east mile-by-mile, the terrain was becoming less than ideal for chasing a tornado. Imagine that! It certainly was not bad in this area, but vastly different than what you would experience in western Kansas.
Sitting at an elevation of around 900 feet, this area of eastern Kansas has a much higher density of trees and more frequent rolling hills than you could even imagine while standing on the brown table that is western Kansas. At nearly 3,000 feet, Garden City in southwest Kansas is notably much more arid as well as devoid of trees and other natural obstacles.
In addition, we were also stuck very close to a conveniently placed small river. This river served as a hub for dense tree life, as well as a blockade of dead-end gravel roads in an otherwise fully gridded road network.
Navigating this mess and simultaneously monitoring the ever-developing storm, both in the sky and on radar, always proves to be a fulfilling challenge. We endured frequent blockades of trees obstructing our view of the bottom of the storm to the north. The Honda continued east, feeling like an extension of my own body.
The cell was looking menacing on radar displaying increasingly strong rotation with every scan. It appeared that the wall cloud was beginning to charge towards the ground rapidly yet again when another blockage of trees interrupted the viewpoint.
Now the trees were becoming very irritating. It seemed as though every two seconds that passed, an apparent break in the tree line was simply a mirage.
Suddenly the field was wide open and the viewpoint ample for the stunning reality.
“Oh my god it’s a huge tornado!”
Holy fucking shit! The storm was now becoming grave. The tornado was large and extremely strong, and clearly was continuing to expand. I immediately fumbled for the phone and frantically reported a large tornado to our north.
Another ninety seconds had passed and now the situation was becoming completely surreal. This was a massive, violent tornado that showed no signs of losing strength or size in the next several minutes, or maybe even longer.
We were all alone on a gravel road with nothing else around but the gentle waving hills, grass, and patches of trees. The tornado was around three miles north of us and not immediately threatening our location, and yet the situation was completely ominous.
The violent tornado was now becoming a wedge, meaning it was wider across than it was tall visually. Fear rushed in from the prospects of this violent tornado impacting people’s lives. A direct hit from this tornado would not be survivable if you were not underground or in a storm shelter.
The intense focus that this chase was requiring was a paradox of being extremely demanding and seemingly effortless. The concentration and immersion in the situation required more attention that you could ever force yourself to have for any normal situation. (On that note, I cannot even fathom what military combat would be like.)
It was nothing short of fulfilling. Having to carefully but aggressively drive on treacherous roads, make split-second navigation decisions based on the unreliability of a gravel road network, coupled with predicting where the tornado would be tracking next, made mental precision of utmost importance.
All the while trying to take intermittent glances at the tornado, as well as assuring that the video camera mounted to the dash was running and pointing at the tornado. Usually this was done by gently shouting at Sarah, out of sheer urgency and a whirlwind of chaos.
As irony would have it, today was the day I decided not to get the laptop setup for radar and detailed map guidance purposes. The previous days involved me sitting in the passenger seat making decisions and calling shots while Sarah was driving.
I figured it to be unnecessary since we would not be chasing, and if we did, there would not be much to see or be concerned about. Yet here we are next to a very large violent tornado, and I have to perform all functions at once.
This is exactly how life works, very unpredictable with the tendency to pull your underwear over your eyes when you think you have your ass covered.
Finally gaining a bit of speed ahead of the tornado but still nearly five miles away, a great distance, we found a large clearing to pull over and closely witness the unbelievable monster.
View from a Dream
Upon jumping out of the driver seat, I was nearly blown over into the ditch by my own perception of what was occurring in the sky all around us.
This unfathomable storm was a complete picture from your wildest dream. I hate using the word “textbook”, but this entire storm and its structure was taken directly out of a meteorology book’s Supercell Schematic diagram.
The sky all around and especially behind us was completely clear and blue. The sun was shining fairly low in the sky to our west, just behind the left side of the storm. This produced a breathtaking effect of sunrays (crepuscular rays) to protrude out from behind the tower. A couple of hours remained until sunset.
The storm had a sharp updraft, complete with a sculpted tower of dark fizzing cauliflower insanity, reaching nearly ten miles high into the atmosphere. The sky directly above us was filled with mammatus hanging from the underside of the storms impressive anvil.
Directly in front of us, was a clearly visible violent tornado. Luckily I managed to take a couple of photos with my phone <[the camera stopped working]/> before the rain curtain made its way back in front of the tornado as seen in this video.
The tornado wasn’t losing any strength and was continuing to move slowly east at around 15mph, but also now seeming to drift a bit more north. This ultimately would cause it to creep further away from our location.
Due to our position south of that little river, there wasn’t much of a chance of us being able to move north closer to the tornado without having to backtrack west and lose sight all together.
Nevertheless, the chase was not about to end. I continued utilizing the zig zagging network of gravel roads, attempting to reach what appeared to be a paved road that would take us back north across the river.
In the midst of this new challenge, other obstacles conspired to present themselves. First, we were caught behind a minivan doing around 32mph in a 65mph minimum, but on a narrow road with tight rolling hills which disabled any passing chances for several minutes.
Much less mundane than the previous obstacle, the gravel road I had chosen to traverse for the last several blocks was posing minimal issues, at least until the last 1/2 mile stretch of roadway.
As we bounced across the last north-south gravel road before reaching the paved road that would take us across the river, I partially disregarded a yellow sign propped up against a tree in the yard of a random house on the corner.
It was an official yellow cautionary road sign, but it was a good distance away from the road and leaning on a tree in someone’s yard. It read “Minimum maintenance. Travel at your own risk.”
Seriously? Propped up against a fucking tree? At least I saw it, but we were already trekking down this much rougher portion of road. Plus, I’ve seen those signs before, and have only </>crashed into the mud next to a tornado</> on one other occasion.
At first, the challenge was riveting. The car was travelling much slower, but I was able to rapidly weave the steering wheel back in forth in a controlled chaotic motion in order to skate around impressive holes and giant soft patches of mud. Suddenly it was no longer fun as the road turned into, well, something that was not definitely not a fucking road.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Turning around and having to go back west meant losing even more time and distance on the tornado, which we couldn’t even see any more due to the sudden influx of trees anyway.
Thankfully, we made it back through without destroying any struts or other suspension parts on the car. I was on the absolute edge of my seat while driving back through that mess, both literally and figuratively.
Mindfulness in the Real World
I had complete faith and expectations that we would make it back through unscathed. However at one microsecond of a moment when the car took a very sudden and hard jerk to the left, I mindfully contained a subtle subconscious impulse of fear.
If I didn’t have the self-awareness that was cultivated through even a basic level of meditation practice, I dare say the results of this immeasurably brief moment may have meant a world of difference in how the rest of the day would play out.
I may not have recognized that split second subconscious level of fear, and instead have permitted it to overtake the moment as “I’m going to lose control.”
I would have given in to a little fear and lack of focus, and thus made just enough of a frantic steering error to cause the Honda to fishtail and careen onto the side of the road, stuck yet again.
We would not have been hit by any dangerous weather (in retrospect), but we probably would have spent the night in that secluded little ditch. Extreme hunger, mutilation by mosquitoes, and intensifying misery are a few things that come to mind.
Having made a great escape from shithole road, we were forced to back track and head further south in order to reach the next east road, before we could get to that elusive north road. It was evident that the chase was coming to an aggravating end.
We were able to get one more good look at the tornado; however it was now nearly 12 miles away. It was hardly visible compared to earlier, and at this point I noticed over a dozen other chasers much closer to it than we were.
That was somewhat demoralizing, but it did not really register with my mind this time around. The day was too eventful and filled with a rollercoaster of emotions and excitement to think about comparatively minor miscalculations.
Moreover, I had been so focused on driving and navigating, that I was not able to fully track the path of the tornado itself. Sarah was now alarming me that the tornado, now with a very violent rotation signature on radar, appeared to be heading towards the town of Chapman.
Sneak Funnel Attack
Always be aware of your surroundings while storm chasing, as well as all aspects of your life. You could seemingly be in the safest position possible, when an unknown danger comes creeping in!
While the massive tornado was over eight miles away and continuing to move further from us, a satellite rope funnel was forming. In fact, the funnel was directly over us!
Looking out the sunroof and the windows, the funnel was creeping closer and closer to the ground. It took several seconds of studying in order to determine where it may be heading.
All we were able to tell was that if it were to touchdown, it would be within a couple hundred feet or less of the car.
The only real option in this split second was to drive away from the funnel, causing us to loose sight of the large tornado.
The funnel never touched down, although if it had without us noticing it before, we likely would have experienced a couple seconds of airtime, or at least completed a few summer saults.
Satellite funnels are fairly common on large tornadoes, in fact the November 17, 2013 Tornado was a satellite of the very large tornado that struck Washington, IL.
As we watched and the day grew later, the tornado thankfully took a farther south jog and completely missed the town of Chapman.
Still, it was a large and violent tornado, and any farmhouse that might have been in the path could be devastated with trapped occupants. In addition, it crossed Old Highway 40, the road we had spent much of the day traveling.
I started to head towards where we determined the damage path was located, but realized we were pretty far behind where it had crossed the highway. There were already other chasers in the area that were much closer to any potentially impacted houses.
Continuing towards the town, it was growing darker, and I just observed for the first time that we were extremely low on gas. The needle was nearly to E, and none of these very small towns were likely to have gas stations.
Indeed, the nearest gas station was to the south southeast in the town of Herington. The drive was about 35 miles, and I wasn’t sure that we had enough gas to make it there.
We were forced to abandon the storm, all but out of sight now, and head south at the risk of being stalled out without gas. Throughout the entire drive my mind was filled with horrific thoughts of people’s homes potentially impacted, or lives at stake.
I knew at this point that we would likely only be getting in the way if we were to head into the damage path. Other chasers (indicated on Spotter Network) had already been in the areas for quite a while, and reports on everything from spotternetwork to Facebook did not indicate any serious damage had taken place. There were several emergency vehicles that had passed us as well.
Still, we were deeply troubled and worried that the worst news would come to fruition after seeing this violent tornado for such a lengthy duration.
The needle was resting on E and we still had several miles to go. Upon arrival into the town, it was striking how old and generally abandoned the area felt. That’s saying something for Kansas, a state filled with older towns from a wonderful yet bygone era.
What Just Happened?
Upon reaching the station, Sarah ran inside to use the bathroom while I filled up the car. Not until now did I have even an opportunity to fully comprehend all of the events that had occurred during the last three hours.
Three hours?? Holy hell. We had been under tornado warnings and in close contact with that storm for nearly three hours. Suddenly all over the energy and adrenaline that had kept me functioning over the last few hours came to a screeching halt. Even standing up was now nearly impossible.
Furthermore, I began to think even more about the likely consequences left in the wake of that incredible tornado. I finished fueling and pulled the car over in front of the station. Sarah strolled outside and we realized we had not eaten anything in about nine hours.
Loosing my Cool
The gas door on the Honda was still open and the cap was still missing. Shit! If there is one thing that I actually never forget, it is to put the damn gas cap back on, as there is no cord strapping it to the car.
Luckily it was still sitting on top of the gas pump, so I shuffled all the way across the parking lot in flip flops to grab it. There was somewhat of a delirious sensation from the day’s events.
I sat down in the parking lot next to the car and looked up to the northern sky, where the tremendous storm was visible and remarkably beautiful, yet completely merciless. The sun was now setting, and the mamattus underside of the anvil was illuminated by the angle of the sunrays.
I began to feel absolutely terrible about what might have taken place that we had no certain word of one way or another. Homes could have been destroyed, people could still be trapped under debris, and family members might never be seen again.
The solemn and grave realization overtook me. Sarah and I went back into the gas station to find something to eat. I was in no mood to eat anything, but ravaging for anything simultaneously. The first prepackaged little sandwich seen behind the glass refrigerator doors was picked out in haste.
I could hardly look at anyone in the gas station without feeling tremendous sadness. We were over 35 miles away from where the tornado had struck, but I knew it was very possible someone’s friend or relative in that gas station could be gone forever.
What the Hell Should We Do?
All of our energy had been completely depleted for the day, and there was nothing else that could be done except plan for the next day and where we would be sleeping that night. I was half tempted to start sleeping in the car at that very Cenex gas station.
It was now well after dark, and all reports indicated the tornado had lifted quite a while ago. The seemingly immortal storm was now coming to its inevitable end.
After briefly looking at data and forecasts for tomorrow, we determined that we would head west on I-70 all the way back to Hays, Kansas. Tomorrow we would be back on the high plains in the more open and arid landscape.
During the two hour drive west, we continued to dwell on the situation that had occurred and what the news in the morning would bring from Chapman. There was not very much cause for serious alarm anymore based on everything we saw on Facebook and the NWS official storm reports.
Amazingly, the news eventually broke that there were zero fatalities, and even zero serious injuries reported from this tornado. What a miracle! It was simply hard to believe that a violent tornado that was on the ground for 90 minutes did not cause any serious injuries.
Thank God. What an incredible relief. TORNADO GRAPHIC
What Were the Odds?
During that long drive in the middle of night to Hays, I randomly remembered the fact that this was the same day we had completed all of our chores.
That same morning we did laundry, washed and vacuumed the car, and changed the oil. We even had time to goof off, and I swam in the hotel pool before we checked out.
What were the odds? Surely incredibly small. Most chase days seem to involve waking up and barely catching breakfast before the heat of the day begins. May 25, 2016 was a day to never forget for many reasons.
What was the most empathetically grave feeling you have experienced for faceless strangers? Have you experienced an unexpected success shortly after a miserable failure?
If you would like to donate to victims of other tornadoes and natural disasters, you can do so at Storm Assist.
Storm Assist takes all donations and provides them to local agencies and groups in need after natural disasters….unlike the Red Cross.