The Day After

The damage in Alabama is catastrophic. As I type, the death toll rises. Families are learning their sons and daughters are not coming home. The news anchors are overcome with sorrow as they tell us that more have died, that more will die.

Where I live in Muscle Shoals was not severely hit, thankfully. Still, the people here panic. There are lines at every gas station; even though I've been on empty for over twenty miles, I cannot get fuel, because people are hysterically draining the gas in preparation for what, I don't know. In Muscle Shoals, we are mostly okay. In Muscle Shoals, our houses still stand and we have power. Still, the wells are dry and I am forced to go home without the gas I actually need on general principle.

My mother says she cannot understand why I insist we need gas and food. I tell her, simply, that we were dumb enough to let everything run low before a terrible storm. And now, we will end up relying on my seventy-two year old grandmother to help us out until we can get gas. All because people who haven't the right to panic are panicking on a massive scale.

But if people were panicking in Phil Campbell or Huntsville, I could understand. As I wrote previously, Phil Campbell and nearby Hackleburg suffered devastating damage. Huntsville, a city with well over 100,000 citizens, is entirely out of power. The lines that run the power from TVA (The Tennessee Valley Authority), the provider of Huntsville's power, are damaged. The people of Huntsville will be out of power for five or more days. We've never seen anything like this -- none of us. Now the news tells us which grocery stores and hospitals are open. Basic necessities aren't supposed to be news. When they are, you get the feeling you've stumbled into the wrong universe by mistake.

Still, from what I observe miles away from then trenches, I see that people are starting to pick up, to sort through the debris, and salvage their lives. They come together to survive, a human instinct that does not fail us, it seems, even in the worst of times.

These tornadoes have killed. Men, women, children, beloved family pets -- dead. I listen as the newsman tells us that two University of Alabama students are among the casualties of Tuscaloosa. I watch as tears come to his eyes, and he apologizes unnecessarily, telling us that his daughter goes there, but that she was spared. A tear slides down my own cheek when I hear him say something to the effect that parents send their children to school expecting them to be safe. Morbidly, I curse the storms for not having the courtesy to consider the plans of those they killed. I know it does no good. I know the planless have just as much right to live as those with mile-high dreams. And I know that a storm, however terrible, is just a storm. It has no vendetta, no scruples. It simply goes until it can't any longer, consequences be damned. Still, it's not right and if I had my way, not a single person would've died.

Yet they are dead. We know that by the hearses and the broken hearts.

My mother remarks that she had no idea how bad this was while it was all happening. I don't think anyone did until it was too late. In truth, none of us expected F4 and F5 tornadoes to rip through the state like so many daggers to the back. Most of us don't have generators or extra bottled water and canned food. One lesson in all of this is to be prepared sensibly, to not overreact (as with the Muscle Shoals gas crisis), but to be smart and be safe.

I think a time like this is best summed up by Regina Spektor in her song "Laughing With":

No one laughs at God in a hospital;
No one laughs at God in a war.
No one's laughing at God when they're starving,
or freezing and so very poor

No one laughs at God when the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one laughs at God when it's gotten real late
And their kid's not back from that party yet
No one laughs at God when their airplane starts to uncontrollably shake
No one's laughing at God when they see the one they love
Hand in hand with someone else and they hope they are mistaken

No one laughs at God when the cops knock on their door
And they say we've got some bad news, sir
No one's laughing at God when there's a famine, fire, or flood

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party while listening to a good God-themed joke
Or when the crazies say he hates us
And they get so red in the head you think their 'bout to choke

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket or Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious -- haha

No one laughs at God in a hospital;
No one laughs at God in a war.
No one's laughing at God when they've lost all they got
And they don't know what for

No one laughs at God on the day they realize
The last thing they'll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one's laughing at God when they're saying their goodbyes

(Chorus & cont.)

No one's laughing at God
We're all laughing with God



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