I've Been Here Before.
14 Years Ago Today, In Fact
Our restaurants (two of them) were hit with a tornado on Friday afternoon. It was our one day off and Marcus and I were in St. Charles trying to unwind and explore an area we don’t know a lot about. We sat down at the bar at Lewis and Clark’s and ordered a drink. No sooner had the bartender handed it to us, our phone rang. We paid our bill and took off running the near mile back to our car.
On the run to the car, my PTSD kicked in from my time in Joplin. I called my Dad in tears just needing somebody to tell me what to focus on first. I’d been told to “Brace myself.” for what I was about to see. I braced, but I also pictured the worst. My Dad reminded me that if our team was safe, that’s all that mattered - things could be replaced. I cried all the way to the site, and told myself that if I got my tears out now, I’d be able to be in good shape to support the team when we got there.
When we finally got near the area, we had to park about 3/4 of a mile away. We abandoned our car and took off on foot - jumping over downed trees, dodging downed wires, a symphony of car alarms, building alarms, crying. As we approached the intersection near our restaurant, I heard “Danni!” and turned around to see my friend covered in glass standing shaken outside of her car that was now missing every window, every tire popped. She’d ridden out the tornado in her car outside our restaurant. It was fully engulfed, totaled. We held each other and cried as my husband took off running to check on our employees.
The scene when we arrived:
And we were among the luckiest. There was a prominent smell of natural gas - our gas lines were ripped out of the building; electric lines lay on the ground in the alley. Much of our roof was blocks away, while parts of others’ roofs lay in our parking lot and in our courtyard. Windows were broken, but our staff was safe.
Today, I’m working from home because I’ve simply run out of energy. Friday and Saturday, we picked up debris, tried (and failed) to clean our spaces which were FULL of debris because the doors blew open in a tornado - and instead we gave up and turned them into full on command centers for the neighborhood.
On Saturday, We got a grill and a generator dropped off by friends and then we cooked up 500 meals for the community with our food before it went to waste due to lack of refrigeration (we simply had nowhere to move it all either).
On Sunday, I coordinated relief with a national nonprofit - Disaster Assistance CoC. I picked up a carload of groceries they paid for.
On Monday, I came back out and helped a neighbor dig out and worked until I couldn’t any longer.
On Tuesday, we came up with our plan to rehome all displaced employees and tried to figure out how to utilize our GoFundMe funds to help them be financially okay.
On Wednesday, we fed another 200+ folks and handed out over 300 bags of groceries and personal supplies while working with Delmar Main Street to try to help displaced businesses. Today, I’m a puddle in my robe trying to catch up on emails and hold back tears. I see videos of how to help around town today and I’m feeling an overwhelming sense that no matter how tired I am, there’s more to do and that I should get my ass back out there.
I’ve been here before.
14 years ago TODAY I was deployed to Joplin Missouri as part of The Salvation Army’s response to an EF-5 tornado that claimed 158 lives. It was over a mile wide and it stayed on the ground for 32 minutes wreaking absolute havoc. My job was to tell the stories and to serve as the Public Information Officer for The Salvation Army at that time. We went into the field for our leaders to minister to those doing body/survivor recovery, we helped with that recovery and consoled people who lost a loved one, we fed people who needed food, we helped where we could, but nothing ever felt like enough - and 8 days later when I was mandated to rest (on my birthday), I drove an hour or so out of town to meet up with my family who were at the Lake of the Ozarks and I arrived there a very different person than I had been.
I was angry. Who the fuck is boating right now?! There are unfound bodies and potential survivors just an hour away!
I was panicked. Fine, I’ll sleep but I need to get back. People need me/us. You should come with me!
My father-in-law sat down at the kitchen table with me and a GIANT bottle of white wine, poured me a glass and said, “Don’t let this be your ‘Nam.” (Vietnam) Meaning that I needed to find a way to process this so I could get back to being myself. He was right. I’ll never forget that moment - because it was fairly out of character for him, and it was exactly what I needed to hear. So, we drank and I talked and it did start to help a little bit.
I think I could really use that again today.
But now, because I’ve been through this before, I know what’s next. Many of the people in damaged houses have 9 days to vacate and many of them have no insurance (because these were generational homes, long paid off with no mortgage, thus no mandated insurance). We need housing.
And next (or now), we need help so this doesn’t become their ‘Nam. PTSD sets in and things happen - people become violent or start to abuse substances. People need to talk NOW. They need guidance NOW. Because I’ve seen what PTSD in temporary government trailer encampments looks like and it’s not pretty.
Back to work…