April 23, 2010

Official Weather Watchers

We are now in the throes of waiting for weather in the Tennessee Valley. The news says we could be in for a wild night. Possible tornadoes, possible hailstones, possible straight line winds, possible, possible, possible...

We all HOPE it just stays "possible". Weather can go from mild to Bible-thumping apocalyptical fury in a moments notice here in Alabama, and if often does. A mild and breezy spring day can shed its veneer of civility to bare a brazen spectral vision of horror. I recall a couple of years ago, there was a man on television talking about the aftermath of what the local idiot weatherman was calling 'a little straight line wind'. The roof of his new storage building was about half a mile down the road in crumpled heaps looking so much like little wads of tinfoil.

The official weather watchers from the local sheriff's office and various Emergency Management personnel were keeping the information flowing through all appropriate channels, but I had to wonder what wise words the local fellow with the ruined storage building would have offered to the weather watchers and the arrogant meteorologist.

I also wondered if any of them showed up to help him with his building. I think I know that answer is a big, old whopping "NO".

Back years ago, I remember listening on my walkie-talkies to the primitive weather watchers who kept saying pretty redneck sounding things. I hate to say it, but we have a really bad history during tornadoes of speaking of the rushing winds as 'the sound of a roaring freight train'. Diction and elocution didn't run too strong in the spotters and it came out sounding more like "Wooeee! That tornadee come down on them trailers at the Dixie Trailers like a freight train 'cross that ol' tressle up by E'kmont! Durned near took the double pipes off'n the Peterbilt!"

But then again, in the stead of those who are reporting with deadpan faces and non-dialectcally distinctive voices, I think I like the sound of people who are local. The current crop of Columbia Broadcasting graduates sound a little too homogenized.

Now, we are given 'official reports' through the long hours of the crisis - either real or manufactured. These are people who are educated and trained to say things like "anvil shaped cloud' and 'tornadic velocity' all with nary the slightest trace of their raisings near Anderson.

That is kind of sad.

Sure, we are able to hunker down in the hall bathroom and crowd around our battery powered radio and watch a DVD on the laptop, but it just isn't the same as riding out the tornado listening to the dulcet tones of Bobby Lee telling us all about the coming danger.

I hope we are all safe tonight.