A young couple with twins escaped this heavily damaged two-story home in Rowlett, where much of the worst damage occurred.
The trembling terror in survivors’ voices eclipses any second-hand observations.
Those in the path of the 11 or so tornadoes thatgashed through North Texas on Saturday narrate an all-too-familiar horror story of a night when momentary eerie quiet turned to devastating freight-train intensity.
No matter that tornadoes are a fact of life in this state or that so many of us shudder over our own close calls with them. Despite all that, the superstorm’s capricious deadly nature — with its characteristic clichés of cars tossed like toys, homes blasted apart like matchsticks — is something we simply will never be able to get our heads around.
Both the victims poking at the rubble that remains of their lives and those of us lucky enough to be able to assess the tornadoes’ aftermath from the cozy comfort of our unscathed existence ask the same question: How does this happen?
Even those who understand the meteorological science that creates these monsters can only shake their heads. “Reduced to rubble” rules the conversation. There simply are no adequate words.
But there is community.
Even before adrenalin had turned to tears, in came the first responders — both the official ones who swear an oath to protect us and the good Samaritans without badges but with big hearts.
Among the heroes — not counting the courageous victims themselves — were law enforcement from municipalities near and far as well as neighbors who rushed to one another’s aid.
They’re working even now in Garland, Rowlett, Ellis County and the surrounding communities. Both in devastated apartment complexes and mobile home parks as well as in upscale developments of flattened multistory homes.
As if Saturday’s swirling deadly winds weren’t pain enough, search and rescue teams battled nasty cold and rain as they moved house to house seeking survivors. Undeterred by the weather challenge, they painstakingly picked through the catastrophic scenes.
The very capable Red Cross quickly set up shelters, providing anyone in need with whatever that need may be — information, supplies, housing. Complete strangers, some far away, clamored for ways to help. (The answer: Go to redcross.org to make a financial donation or text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 contribution.)
Closer to home, as temperatures continued to drop and the threat of flooding grew, victims’ neighbors continued to lend a hand to help save treasured possessions — or offer a shoulder for frightened, weary residents to collapse upon.
That kind of neighborliness happens most everywhere in tough times — but never is that spirit stronger than among Texans. Come to think of it, perhaps that reader who nominated all ordinary folks as “Texan of the Year” got it right
When tragedy strikes, people here pull together and, along the way, do extraordinary things. And from the many stories of broken hearts that emerged over the weekend will also come those stories that provide evidence that healing has begun.
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