Memorial Winds

When we think of our yearly Day of Memorial, any winds that come to mind are the Winds of War.  After all, the veterans of wars and fallen warriors are who we are meant to remember.

This Memorial Day, and forever after, I will also remember other Winds and those taken by them.

Living as I do in California, which shakes and quakes and lights afire from time to time but rarely sees a thunderstorm, I don't know much about living with tornados.  So it was with a little trepidation that I traveled to Kansas - the dark heart of Tornado Alley, just one day after the tragic events in Moore, Oklahoma.  Driving away from the airport in Wichita and heading west, I missed the 'large funnel' that dropped out of the clouds near the airfield that evening, which luckily failed to touch ground and go off on a brutal tear.

Kansas - at least the central part of it I was in, is flat. Nothing is there to block the path of storms; no obstacle to break them up or sap their strength.  If a big wind comes rolling at you down out of the Northwest, you are stuck like pins on a bowling alley, with nowhere to hide.

Just 30 miles or so from where I was staying is Greensburg, which was wiped off the map in May 2007 by an EF5 - the same monster size as the Moore twister, and is famously being rebuilt around a green energy plan.  I can only imagine what the good citizens of Greensburg thought when that storm hit Moore; perhaps a brief moment of relief that the spinning wheel of fate stopped somewhere else in Tornado Alley this time around, but more likely a profound sense of the camaraderie of shared misfortune.  The folks in Greensburg know what the folks in Moore dealt with that day, and what they will continue to deal with for some time to come.

In practical fact, everyone living in Kansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and most of the midwest, know all about living with Tornados.  And they don't spend their days nervously glancing at the latest doppler radar updates on their iPhones, like I did.  Good, solid, people not easily scared by something that would send the bravest, most earthquake-savvy Californian into whimpering fits.

Brave folks persevering stoically in the path of God's Reaping Wind; much like those soldiers who walked and flew and sailed into the Winds of War.  Memorial Day, for me, will now be a time to remember them all.

Just The Facts

The Rise of The Internet has created new levels of factualness for information.  Here are a few:

Reproducible, peer-reviewed, scientific research results. - this one's been around since the enlightenment, and is generally considered the gold standard of factualness.  The internet does report these, but they are frequently boring, so are given low priority in search engines, especially if the news is depressing but not fear-inducing.

The results of 'shocking new studies'. -  on any one of a number of attention-getting subjects, typically cancer, a pandemic flu, or how your breakfast cereal may be changing your gender.  These facts might be gold, but look closely fool.

Saw it on Facebook/Twitter/YouTube. - now the most common means of communicating 'facts', or their interpretation.  If your friends think it's real, or cool, or cute, or just plain awesome, then so must you.  Pass it on, and do so with a post that would make anyone not pressing 'Like' seem racist.

Note that I did not mention Wikipedia.  I like Wikipedia, even though referencing it is an act of faith in a humanity that doesn't really deserve it.  I always put on my special 'Wiki Glasses' when I surf to the Wiki.  They are rose-colored, and they make everything believable, and that's a fact.

Let The Hard Rain Fall

On one of my trips lately, I watched a local TV News anchor exclaiming what an exceptionally wet Winter they'd had.  Actually, that newsman was complaining about it.

It's true this Winter, and most especially the Spring that followed, has been wetter and snowier than typical, in some places more so than in any time since recording started in the 1890s.  But is that surprising?

Between the let's-not-call-it-Global-Warming and the self-inflicted human tragedies (Boston; West, Texas; collapsing sweatshops in Bangladesh; Newtown), there has been plenty of reason for the World to Cry, if you will.  Yes, I did just say that very unscientific thing:  there is something about this natural place we inhabit that picks up and reflects, and right now what it is reflecting is reason enough for lakes of tears, whether rained hard from the heavens or piled frozen in snowy drifts.  We have earned a blizzard of symbolic sorrow.

And then there is still the scientific argument of Let's-Call-It-Global Chaos. Today it is raining in Southern California not even a week after a blazing hot, dry, windy spell sparked wildfires.  When those fires broke out, Wisconsin was being blasted by a near-blizzard. Very Chaotic indeed.

But Unseasonable Rain sometimes is needed.  The rain today has put an end at least for a while, to fears of more fires; and helped extinguish what is left of the ones already burning. 

Rain also helps us mourn and reflect, perhaps leading to better decisions and behavior.  At times when we humans are behaving our worst, a big dousing may knock sense into us.

Let The Hard Rain Fall while it may.