The tornado touched down while I was in a little town called Enid, Oklahoma. It didn’t do a lot of damage but it did take out both bridges leading in and out of town. The Oklahoma State Highway Patrol sent me to a storm shelter for the night and assured me I could leave first thing in the morning. At the storm shelter there was nourishing food and I got into line with everyone else. Right in front of me an old farmer wearing overalls and a straw hat waited with his wife. Like a lot of the other people she was crying softly.
“That was a hell of a storm,” the old man said to me. “It dang near killed me and Bessie.”
Bessie sniffled a little.
“Were you out in the field?” I asked.
“No. Bessie was cleaning the attic and at the noontime meal she asked me to come up and help her move something. No sooner did I get up there than that tornader lifted the roof off the house and carried us nearly half a mile.”
Bessie was sobbing loudly by this time.
“Bessie,” the old man said, “Why don’t you just shet up? The storm’s gone and they ain’t no use in crying about it.”
“I ain’t crying about the storm,” Bessie sobbed and wailed loudly.
“Well what are you making all of that racket about?”
“I was crying because this is the first time in fourteen years that we’ve been out together for dinner.”
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