One-year anniversary of Newtonia tornado observed

Sunday was the one-year anniversary of the deadly tornado that tore away half of my hometown of Newtonia.

I was safely in my apartment in Joplin, listening to KOAM's Geoff Cornish as he revealed a tornado warning had been issued for Newtonia and neighboring Stark City. I was concerned, but I didn't give it too much thought since we hear of tornado watches and warnings all of the time.

This time, as we found out moments later, was different.

I was still unaware the twister had hit Newtonia, when my phone rang and my mother, sounding thoroughly distraught tole me there was nothing left of the house. Fortunately, that turned out to be an exaggeration. Part of what was once my bedroom had been severely damaged, as had the portion of the house containing the bathroom and my sisters' bedroom. The living room had suffered some damage, but was mostly covered with the dust that had blown through the opened structure.

During the convversation, Mom told me how the next-door neighbors had offered to let her and dad use their shelter. They finally decided to do that as the storm approached. Mom and Dad left the house, Mom carrying her little dog Zoey, (she couldn't find her cat Woody) but the second they stepped outside, they realized it was too late. The tornado was almost right on them.

They ran back into the living room, curled up behind the sofa and waited. Fortunately, neither of them was was hurt as the destructive winds whirled around them.

After Mom told me the story, she said, "We can't find Woody. The cat was a member of the family since he had been there more than a dozen years. She kept on talking, repeating the story, adding new details each time, when in the background I heard a loud "meow" and I knew one crisis had been averted. Apparently, Woody had been hiding under the bed during the tornado and emerged unscathed.

My parents' garage was blown away, including such items as the Christmas decorations Mom and Dad put up every year, and all kinds of past mementoes, but my parents were okay and even the sentimental items like family pictures and the hard work that Mom has put into genealogy for more than a decade remained virtually undamaged (though her geneaology books were covered with dust).

When I came down to help with cleanup the following day, the town looked like a war zone. Law enforcement officials decided who would be allowed through to keep out sightseers (and perhaps looters).

After the work was done for the day, I walked through what was left of Newtonia. The Ritchey House, the most famous structure in the city, had a gaping hole in the west side. City Hall, a former residence that became a money drain the city never needed, was completely gone. The Newtonia Community Building, which my parents and the folks from the city have kept thriving for more than 30 years was somewhat damaged, but repairable.

Many houses, including that of former Natural Disaster drummer John Scott, simply no longer existed. Others were damaged to the extent they could never be lived in again. Three of my parents' four neighbors lost their houses.

But no lives were lost during the tornado. The rebuilding process began almost immediately and continues one year later.

My home town took a beating, but the people were not going to let it die.