WATCHING BRAD
Part 169
STORMS RIP ACROSS ONTARIO
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
The welcomed relief from the relentless and unprecedented heat wave which had blanketed the province for so long is finally here with the passing through of a cold front late last evening. But that relief came at a very heavy cost. Along with the cold front came a vicious line of powerful and dangerous thunderstorms which swept through Central and Southern Ontario with the speed and ferocity of a gigantic herd of stampeding wildebeests. The storms lasted only minutes, ending as quickly as they began, but they left behind a tidal wave of destruction and chaos in their wakes.
The torrential rains and gale-force winds which pummelled the region took everyone by surprise. The sky was lit up by the constant flashes of deadly bolts of lightning and the accompanying crashes of thunder rattled photos on the walls and glassware in kitchen cabinets.
Dozens of unconfirmed tornadoes and funnel clouds were reported.
"I had to pull over," remarked Mr. J. Cheevers whose car was damaged by a fallen tree. "I couldn't even see the front end of my car it was raining so hard. My car was rocking in the wind and I thought I thought it was going to blow right over on its side. And then the tree fell on the (back) end of it and lifted the front wheels right off the street. Scared the (****) right out of me!"
Mr. Cheevers' adventure was not unlike dozens upon dozens of stories heard across the city in the hours following the storms. Hundreds of trees were torn apart with their branches and limbs being scattered everywhere or were blown down entirely. Many trees fell on houses and cars and tore down power lines and blocked streets. Anything that was not firmly attached to the ground was carried away in the wind. Rescue and emergency efforts were severely hampered by the devastation as they tried to find alternate routes around the blocked streets.
Mrs. C. Graham, 86, managed to make her way into the basement only moments before her patio furniture smashed through her sliding glass doors and piled up in a heap in front of her television on her livingroom floor. "The TV went off and the lights went out," she calmly said, "and I got up to get my flashlight, but it got really nasty and I could hear things banging against the house so I just went to the basement. There was enough lightning for me to see most of the time. I didn't even need my flashlight. I suppose that was a blessing."
Mrs. Graham's neighbour wasn't quite as blessed. "I've got my patio in my livingroom now," Mrs Graham added, "and I lost some shingles, but my friend next door, Nancy, lost half her roof and broke her leg and hip when it fell on her."
When the comment was made that it must have been very frightening for her, Mrs. Graham replied, "I went through Hurricane Hazel in ‘54. Last night was a lot like Hazel. It just didn't last as long."
It will be weeks before the full extent of the damage is assessed and repaired.
For more stories, photos, and eye-witness accounts, please turn to pages. . . .
* * * * *
For one very brief moment, time appeared to stand still, freezing the scene before me into a photograph which would remain in my brain for a very long time. I was able to see everything clearly, yet, at the same time, I was completely oblivious to everything else going on around me. Beyond the screened aluminum door of the Hayes homestead, my sons stood anxiously at the forefront, crying and screaming out for me and pushing anxiously at the door. My daughter was standing directly behind them, her hand on the door handle, ready to push the door open and to let Justin and Jeremy pass through. Behind my daughter, I could see the relieved faces of my mother and Bernice Hayes. Behind them and off to their sides stood my father and John Hayes. Terry stood behind all of them, peering at me from over their shoulders.
But my attention was on those I could see clearly at the forefront. My children.
Then, suddenly, time thawed and the twins were through the door. I stopped running across the lawn and dropped to my knees on the grass, opening my arms to greet them. Lindsay came through the door after Justin and Jeremy, but she reached me first, outrunning her brothers and slamming into me with a force which rocked me back onto my heels. She wrapper her arms around my neck and held on for dear life. When the boys reached me, they attached themselves to either side and I wrapped my arms around all three of them, hugging all of them at once and passing out kisses to them like Hallowe'en candy. My own tears joined theirs.
Mom, Bernice, and Terry came out and stood behind the kids. Dad and John moved past us heading for the taxi, presumably to take over Brad's chore of unloading the luggage so he could join me. A few moments, later, Brad was kneeling beside me and wrapping his arms around as many people as he could get them around.
I don't know how long we were there on the lawn crying and hugging and kissing each other, but all of our luggage had been carried into the house and Dad and John had joined us by the time we finally calmed the children down enough so that they were no longer crying and we could stand up once more. Of course, the boys weren't about to let go of us now that they had attached themselves to us and they came up with us. We took a moment to look around at everyone, grateful to see that all had come through the ordeal unscathed, before hugging all of them and thanking them for taking such good care of the children and making certain they were safe.
"I must return to work shortly, Theodore," Dad said as I reached him, "but it was my wish to be here when you and Bradley arrived. After the telephone call last evening, I feel I owe you a proper explanation."
"Thanks, Dad. Have you been over yet?"
Dad nodded his head. "John and I have looked."
"I have to get in to get my papers," I told him.
"It is not safe to do so, Son," Dad told me firmly.
"But I have to get them," I insisted.
"Your papers will still be there when it is safe to retrieve them. Until then, you must stay outside. John purchased several sheets of plywood this morning and your home will be properly secured this afternoon." Dad put his hand on my shoulder, his fingers squeezing it in warning. "Believe me, Theodore. It is not safe." Dad turned to Brad then and said to him, "See to it that the only exploring you do is only with your eyes. I am relying upon you to keep my son out of that house."
"Yes, Sir," Brad replied.
I sighed in resignation. Dad was probably right, of course. He usually was, especially where houses were concerned. "I suppose we should get this over with now, then," I said somberly. I had been avoiding looking left toward our house, terrified of what I would see there, but now it was time to face reality and to begin putting our lives back together once more.
As a group, we moved forward with Brad and I at the front of the small procession.. I held Justin in my left arm and held Lindsay's hand with my right. Brad, carrying Jeremy, walked beside me, his free arm wrapped comfortingly around my waist. The others followed along behind us.
We stopped at the yellow plastic emergency barricade tape which now cordoned off the entire front yard. The fire trucks had, apparently, left some time ago before sunrise, but the smell of wet, burnt wood and household belongings hung fresh and heavily in the air.
I looked at the house and swallowed hard. I heard Brad gasp and I heard Lindsay let out a whimper. Justin curled his head against my shoulder and sniffled as he wrapped his arms around my neck. A deadly silence hovered above our small group of family and friends as we looked at our house.
The power line running from the exploded and blackened transformer atop the pole near the street lay upon our trampled and ruined lawn like some great dead, black, twisted snake which had had its head lobbed off. The grey conduit running up the right-hand corner of the house which carried the power lines into the basement of our home and from which the ‘snake' had become unattached was melted and blackened at the top.
I would find out later that it should not have happened. Safety precautions and switches and breakers were in place to prevent such things from occurring. I would be told later that it
could not have happened.
But it did.
Somewhere between the pole-top transformer (which had taken the full force of that bolt of lightning) and our house, technology had failed and our home had also taken the full force of that lightning bolt. In one brief, horrifying flash, our entire world had been suddenly turned upside down.
* * * * *
Justin and Jeremy were crying again, wanting to stay with me and Brad, but we convinced them that we wouldn't be going anywhere and that they would be able to see us all the time. They reluctantly stayed behind in the loving arms of their Oupa and Grandpa.
Brad and I slipped beneath the yellow and black emergency ribbon and walked to the middle of the lawn where we could survey the damage from a relative distance before moving in for a closer look.
The first thing we noticed was the burnt-out hole in the roof on the right side of our home where our diningroom was situated. Small puffs of dust and soot occasionally lifted lazily into the blue, cloudless sky. The size of the hole was frightening, making me wonder what would be left beneath it. The diningroom window was smashed out, as were the kitchen and Lindsay's bedroom windows. Although it was closed, the front door was splintered and shattered. The axe marks were clearly visible.
"Where do we start?" Brad asked sadly and softly. "The best or the worst?"
From where I stood, there was no ‘best'. ‘Better', perhaps, but certainly no ‘best'. I looked at Brad, trying to find direction in his face, but there was none. He was leaving the decision up to me.
"Work our way up to the worst?" I suggested.
Brad nodded and, together, we made our way to the northern end of the house where Lindsay's bedroom was situated next to the garage. Beneath the window was Lindsay's garden, created by Brad the year before. It had suffered greatly from the heat wave, as had thousands of other gardens in the region, but now it also suffered from humans as well.
The wooden swing, sitting beneath Lindsay's bedroom window, somehow survived intact, but the unicorn and the concrete birdbath didn't fare quite as well. The unicorn's horn and one ear lay trampled in the mud, probably snapped off by either a fireman or his hose. The decorated and painted concrete bowl of the birdbath had been knocked off its pedestal, possibly by the same fireman as he stumbled frantically around in the darkness, and now lay upside down in the flowerbed. I bent down and gently lifted it up by its edge. As soon as I saw the shattered remains of the delicate faeries beneath it, I groaned audibly and let it drop back into the dirt.
The glass in Lindsay's bedroom window had been smashed in from the outside, but not by a fireman. Inside the bedroom lay a large, empty, and lidless, green plastic trash can with an address from the next block to the west painted on its side. Sadly, not only had it found its way through all those yards and smashed through the window, it had also smashed into the shelves holding Lindsay's treasured collection of ornamental faeries and unicorns. They now lay in scattered bits and pieces on the floor surrounding what remained of the large, hand-painted unicorn Bernice had given to Lindsay when they had first met each other a year earlier.
The mattress of her bed lay bare except for the fitted sheet. Her other blankets and sheets were scattered about the room. One sodden sheet was on the far side of the room where it had been blown by the wind and still remained stuck to the wall. Clothes and other personal belongings lay strewn about, soaked and dirty and smelling horribly of smoke.
I tore myself from the scene, unable to look anymore, but fearful of what other sights awaited us and wondering where I was going to find the strength to tell my daughter that her life lay in a shambles about her bedroom floor.
We moved toward the kitchen window on our right, and then to the front door which we pushed open. The fire appeared to have been halted at the livingroom and kitchen, but they were not without their casualties.
The kitchen window had also been smashed in from the outside, but this time by a fireman who stood there to spray water through it. It appeared as though several of the appliances had exploded. The walls and everything else was smeared in a sludgy, black mess of soot and melted plastic. It was clear that at least part of the cabinets had been on fire, as had the kitchen table and chairs. The linoleum floor lay bubbled and warped from the heat.
In the livingroom, visible through both the front door and the kitchen window, a hole had burnt through the floor near the basement stairway and the floor sagged toward it. Little remained of our sofa and chair except for a blackened mass of metal and wood and fabric. The loveseat was nowhere to be seen and appeared to have fallen into the hole and now lay somewhere in our basement.
My stereo and CD collection were puddles of melted plastic on the shelves, saved from direct flames but not immune to the heat.. Even the big-screen TV had not been spared. It, too, had meltedon one side. Brad's cherished piano which, at that moment, was no-longer an ‘upright', lay key-side down on the floor and was in serious jeopardy of also toppling into the basement. We couldn't really see the damage from the front doorway except for a splintered hinge on the lid, but the amount of black, charred wood certainly wasn't a good sign.
I pulled the door closed and hugged Brad close to me before we walked toward the smashed-out diningroom window. Glass shards cracked and crunched beneath our feet as we walked. The window had obviously exploded from the inside out. As we approached and got our first views of the inside, it was clear that the damage was more serious and extensive than I had anticipated.
"Gee-sus, Murphy," Brad whispered hoarsely as he attempted to hold back his emotions.
I could feel my knees going weak beneath me and I grasped at Brad's hand. Without his strength, I'm certain I would have simply keeled over and dropped to the ground in a lump of retching, sobbing tears. Brad seemed to sense this and grasped my hand tighter.
We drew closer to the opening that was our window, my stomach tumbling over itself as I strove to keep the contents inside me. The last few steps were taken whilst I held my breath. My legs felt as though they weighed a tonne and it took every bit of energy inside of me just to lift them and to move them forward.
At last, though, we reached the end of our journey and we stopped. Neither of us spoke. Bright sunlight shone down through the burnt-out roof like a beacon as if shining a spotlight on what Mother Nature had done to us. We simply looked inside our house and let ourselves cry. It was impossible to hold back our emotions any longer.
There was no diningroom anymore. It was gone. Completely disappeared. Nothing remained of my Grandmother's diningroom set. No table. No chairs. No china hutch. No chinaware. No silverware. No photographs on the wall. No vases. There was nothing. It was all gone.
Where once there was a floor, there was now only empty space allowing us to look down into the storage room in our basement. Only the outside brick appeared to be holding up the walls of the house. Household belongings and debris, litter and burnt wood floated in the putrid water below amongst a few of our household items which had miraculously survived the inferno and now floated on top. From the direction of the new bathroom at the back of the house, the twins' bathroom, we could hear the spritzing and splashing of water, undoubtedly being sprayed from a ruptured pipe there.
What was worse, though, was that there was no longer a wall where there should have been a wall, allowing us to look into what should have been the twins' bedroom. It was gone, too, as was most of the floor. What hadn't burnt up was undoubtely floating in the flooded wasteland of our basement. My boys had come to me with nothing, and now that was what they had again.
I looked over my shoulder toward our family. I didn't have to say anything. The expression on my face said more than enough for everyone except for the kids to understand. Mom raised her hand and placed her fingers, which held a tissue, over her mouth. Dad simply closed his eyes and bowed his head slightly as he held Justin. John, who was holding Jeremy, turned his head slightly and kissed Jeremy's hair. Bernice, who was standing behind Lindsay, draped her hands protectively over Lindsay's shoulders and pulled her granddaughter a little closer to herself. Terry simply turned around and walked back into John and Bernice's home. From the heaving of her shoulders, I knew that she was sobbing uncontrollably.
I gritted my teeth, feeling myself swaying and fearful that I was going to faint. I turned my attention back to the devastation before me.
And then something caught my attention.
"Oh, God," I gasped as a single scorched and water-sodden Teddy Bear floated on its back into the shaft of sunlight glaring through the hole in the roof. Its matted, forlorn, and sorrowful little face stared up at us with those little brown button eyes for a brief moment before quivering in the ripples as if in fear. And then, with what almost appeared to be a sad and final wave of its right paw, it slowly sank beneath the surface of the dark, murky water and disappeared from sight.
To Be Continued
Well done.
i think that something has happened to brad's mum or dad
](/images/smilies/bang.gif "Brick wall ](*,)")
