I was frustrated and frightened by the jocularity, indifference, or sheer bewilderment about what to do. Tornado safety is simple. Get underground. If that’s impossible, get to an interior windowless room on the lowest level of a sturdy structure. If you’re in your car, park safely, get out, find shelter. Terrible things can still happen, but basic precautions can save your life.
But our identity as hardy New Englanders, stoically weathering nor’easters and wicked winters, may hinder our safety. Tough as we are, we can’t withstand a natural force that can blenderize brick buildings in seconds.
I understand why my fellow Bay Staters felt bushwhacked Wednesday. Although Massachusetts has the highest tornado count of any New England state and a history of violent twisters — the F4-intensity tornado in Worcester in 1953, the Great Barrington F4 in 1995 — it’s not like we have to run to the cellar every day. Other than in the winter, when blizzards blast us, the weather’s more of an inconvenience than anything, frizzing hair, causing traffic snarls. What else would you expect from a region whose lush trees and hilly topography won’t let us see much sky?
More shocking is how little credence many of our friends in Tornado Alley, in the country’s midsection, give to watches and warnings. Many people do take shelter: During April’s tornado outbreaks in the South, my college roommate in Meridian, Miss., huddled in her basement for hours with daughter and dogs. Yet many others hear so many tornado warnings they grow immune. Jennifer Watson, a TV meteorologist in Tupelo, Miss., hears complaints that “a lot of storms happen at night and [viewers] don’t have a weather radio.” (Weather radios cost less than $20 at Radio Shack and WalMart.)
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