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Tornadoes are mythologized, marketed and even celebrated.

Until they’re not.

Joplin needs our help.

I think The Weather Channel promoted it as The Great Tornado Hunt or something, and there are numerous storm chaser shows.

The host of the tornado show, Mike Bettes, broke down on air when it – the humanity, the loss, the suffering – all kinda caught up with him, I think.

And I watched him.

That’s what we do, isn’t it? We watch, we talk about it, we try to make sense of it all when no sense can possibly be made.

The thing was a mile wide.

I have friends in Joplin. They’re accounted for. They have friends who are not.

For a couple hours last night, one of my best friends couldn’t reach her children. They are safe. Others are not.

And in our voyeuristic impotence, we grieve, sure, but mostly we don’t know what to do except watch and pray.

And, then, after the network satellite trucks pick up and move on to the next news cycle, Joplin will still need our help.

The thing was a mile wide.


Here are sites assisting in recovery:

When I put my kids to bed last night, I hugged them a little longer and a little tighter. It was the only thing I knew to do.

I’m not sure if I’m jealous of or unspeakably angry at people who have some emotional switch they can turn off to go about their day like nothing happened.

Today, I’ll send money, and I’ll pray.

I don’t know what else to do.

UPDATE: Here’s a first-person, five-minute video. It’s a five-minute glimpse into the darkness. Do not let your children listen.


If you can’t see the embedded video, click here to watch it on YouTube.

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