Storm Warning

Growing up in Oklahoma, I know a bit about severe weather. I knew the geography of the state not because I’d studied it in a class but because I’d hear county names on the evening weather, which we watched religiously, as meteorologists listed those areas most likely to be impacted by a line of storms. We lived in Payne, so when we heard references to Noble, Logan and Kingfisher counties (which were to our west), we knew it would be a high-alert night. 

An avid weather worrier, Dad kept fresh batteries in the portable AM radio and flashlight, and it was not uncommon for him to pile us into the Oldsmobile Cutlass and head to campus during a Tornado Watch. His office building at OSU, Ag Hall, had a large basement. We’d sit on the floor in the hallway, outside of professors’ office doors, listening to the staticy radio updates for hours until it was clear any threat of tornadic activity had moved on to the east. 

Side note: the era of Oldsmobiles and AM radio was an era long before the internet and iPads. Consider the kid-friendly entertainment options at the time, and let that sink in. Condolences accepted. 

Despite my parents’ zealous fear of them, storms excite me. The palpable energy in the air, the eerily calm skies which often preceed strong storms quicken my heart rate. Anticipation that something big is coming. I know the possible damage can be deadly and catastrophic, and I’ve experienced the shock and devastation first hand of driving through the aftermath of a storm ravaged neighborhood. I have empathy, heartbreak, and concern for those impacted, but I still can’t peel myself away from watching the before, during, and after as storms roll across our buckle of the Bible Belt.  

When I grew up, left home, and began to manage my own weather readiness, I took a markedly different approach. When my trusted meteorologists gave level 3, 4, or 5 threat levels, I’ve been known to clear my calendar, grab takeout, and park in front of the tv to watch the show. Watching storm chasing in my living room is the scientific equivalent of a Saturday afternoon during football season as we toggle between stations catching games. We know which networks have the most animated weather guys, which Doppler radars have the most granular views, and which stations are most likely to be first to broadcast live from the side of a two lane road west of town with ominous clouds looming behind the reporter. 

Don’t tell my mom this part, but we’ve even been known to go outside and watch the swirling clouds above. Any wall clouds in sight? Is the sky more orange or green? Did you see that wicked lightning? Oh, God, it looks scary up north. I hope those people are in their safe rooms. 

On Monday, January 20th, the 47th president of the United States will be sworn in. Donald. J. Trump. 

Words can’t adequately describe the significance and my emotions surrounding this event, and plenty of ink has been spilled by better authors trying. The award for most overused word this year already goes to “unprecedented”, and the most googled phrase in 2025 is likely to be “What is an oligarchy?”

The bold experiment of America is still in its infancy within the timeline of world history, and the next few months will be one of its biggest tests to date. 

In a conversation last night as I shared my interest in watching at least a little of Monday’s ceremony, I received a shocked reaction. “Given your feelings about Trump, why would you watch that? Why do that to yourself?” The only analogy that I could find was that it was akin to walking into the backyard and acting as an amateur tornado spotter. 

It’s dangerous, unwise, and also terrifyingly captivating. It’s like I will have to actually see the event with my own eyes in order to believe that this convicted felon and man found liable for sexual abuse and defamation was chosen by millions of Americans to lead and represent our country. That we have become so inoculated by disinformation that this choice makes sense to so many people. 

Leaving this writing here as a formal marker on the “before” side of the 47th. I don’t know the particulars of what will come. I hope with my whole heart that my concerns are unfounded. And I pray for those on the margins for whom the skies look much more ominous than those above my head. 

God bless America.