I began my blogging passion last summer at a state of adventure while traveling to Ghana, Africa. My goal from that experience was to document how my life changed as I explored a new world. This summer brings me to a whole new place in my life. This place is very new and fresh and speaks to me differently every single day. This place in my life has me soaking up every single breathe, every single moment as a new gift.This is the documentation of the beginning and the progress of my growing passion for life.
Words cannot describe this past month. I am going to try my best.
It has been a month minus three days since the April 27, 2011 tornados hit Alabama the beautiful. While rubbage lies in piles along the storm’s path of destruction,
a flower out of the midst takes a peek and reminds me that everything will be ok.I begin to count the minutes of my day on April 27th. I will always remember them like I remember the day God saved me, my first best friend, my first love. All of these days, all of these firsts, changed my life forever. The events of April 27th in Tuscaloosa, Alabama changed my life forever.
A Junior at The University of Alabama, my day began with a nervous strain as I had a major Management final to ace so that I could pull a B in the class. Stress was not the word to describe it. All week I had been getting texts from my mother Gail Yarbrough, telling me of a “superstorm” that will be passing through the state. This was the only detail of storm warning that I had experienced all week, as I had been practically in a solemn world of my own preparing for my six finals that faced me throughout the next two weeks. Television, radio, Facebook, anything that would connect me with warning was the last thing from my mind at this point. The child instinct of mine told me she was overexaggerating. My… oh, my… was that false. During the final I was reminded of this text as Professor Bachrach informed the class that we may have to stay afterwards as we were expecting a tornado siren. Thankfully, we were in the safest room in the building so we could just stay put. We all frantically grabbed our test papers and piled up to the front of the classroom away from our normal seating arrangements to make room for more students to join us during the siren. The closeness of my fellow classmates was comforting… as a strange feeling of fear began to overcome my stress. Was this “superstorm” real? No... surely not. Just a normal tornado siren to alert a normal thunderstorm was my conclusion. I finished my test and was stress free.
Leaving, I called my dear friend Mallory Mckenzie to plan our study date together… who little did I know would be my angel in distress for the rest of the evening. Walking down University boulevard felt amazing. A cool breeze gave me the fresh air to clear my head for another long night of studying. Mallory answered my call and I met her in front of Reese Pheifer. We walked together to discuss our night. Should we study at our place? Should we continue our study date at Panera? Panera we decided. If the weather was really going to become that serious we could always resort to home.
At Panera we sat joking over our Advertising study guide and soup. “This may be the last dinner we have, at least we can have it together,” Mallory joked. Little did we know this sentence meant so much more than we had realized.
The manager of Panera greeted us suddenly with his Android weather satellite informing us that we may have to retreat to the bathroom soon. “A tornado has been spotted on the ground near Skyland Boulevard,” he gracefully warned. He walked away and all me and Mallory could do was jokingly plan our getaway with the bagels behind the counter. This happens in Tuscaloosa ALL the time. No way is this serious. Another exaggeration led us to continue our chit chat and soup. Ten minutes passed, the sirens rang, and off to the bathroom with our sweets teas we went. While in the bathroom my phone began to ring consistently and messages of conern began to pour in. Text after text I sent “ I’m Ok, im in the bathroom at Panera, I’m ok.” “Why is everyone being so persistent? “I began to wonder. After about the 10th text… my heart began to pound. Something isn’t right. An old couple to my left began to joke about how funny it was they were drinking their frappachino in the bathroom. It made us all laugh… and got our mind off the drama for a split second. The next thing we knew the power was off and some brave souls of the Panera bathroom peeked out the hallway to the window to see what was happening beyond the walls. “It is right behind us, we see it twist,” we heard outside the door. The brave souls came back inside the bathroom, flushed, and wide eyed, “You have to see this,” they instructed. I dropped to my knees, held Mallory’s arm, my body began to shake, and my heart began to pray. “Surely not,” I thought. A small vibration surrounded us and before we knew it, everything went silent and calm. “We are in the eye of the storm,” a guy spoke and laughed aloud. A feeling of truth overcame me. “This is real,” I thought…. Still shaking. Minutes passed with no sound and Mallory and I finally got enough courage to get off the floor and venture into the dining area to take our personal evaluation of the storm. We peeked out the glass to see twigs and tossed chairs. Calmness overcame me finally. We are ok.
As about 30 minutes passed, we stayed within the comfort of the Panera walls, as nobody knew if everything was surely cleared. Three extremely comforting calls came in from Justin Hays, my mother, and Jonathan Hicks as all phones were only receiving few connections. I assured everyone that I was ok and everything was perfect. Little did I know what I was about to experience. Everything was not ok. Everything was not perfect. Me and Mallory looked out the front door and took a quick glance at our vehicles that sat side by side. They were in perfect place. Mallory stood on the chair and looked further to our left. “What IS that,” she sighed. I grabbed her and we ran outside. To the left of the mall in the distance all we could see was brown. It was the most confusing sight of my life. I grabbed Mallory and said, “Let’s go.”
We continued walking down the sidewalk with some friends from the bathroom. The further we went the more we saw. A call came in from my god child’s mother Aymie Self who was two hours away and had already saw the storm path on television. She asked if I was ok and all I could seem to reply was “I am ok by a miracle, this is so bad I have to go, I love you.”
We ended up about 50 yards away at the end of the mall strip and I broke down. Tears and shaking overcame me as Mallory grabbed and held me tight. “This is so bad, this is so bad, Mallory,” I yelled. My vision, blurred with tears, was of a street known as 15th- a street that I had celebrated many football games, a street I went to after almost every workout to grab a burrito, a street that I have driven time after time with friends on summer days with the windows down singing the songs of life. Let me try to begin to describe the events after this vision of what was, 15th.
Signs were flattened into metal poles, houses were crumbled into broken boards, businesses were non-existent, cars were overturned, police were frantic, people were walking with bags of clothes in ¬hand… gallons of water in arm. Tattered clothes, scratched and tear stained faces were walking for shelter. “This is hell on Earth,” I thought to myself.
We all began to walk down 15th to help with what we could manage but the police began to inform us that there was another storm on the way. As these words were spoke, everyone fled the streets… we will never, ever, take a warning slightly again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a friend I have not seen in almost a year. Sarah Orr screamed my name outside of her boyfriend’s truck window. She waved with her mouth open, her face as white as snow. I waved back at her, excited and comforted to see another loving, familiar face and to know that another one of my dear friends living in town was safe. “I can’t believe this Sarah, it is so good to see your face,” I yelled back at her. Off she sped through the rubble of 15th. It all felt like a bad dream now.
Walking back to Panera Bread I tried to hold it together as another friend and neighbor of mine Chris Beard called. “Are you ok, is our place ok? I just pulled Brittany and Michael out of a shower in Planet Fitness. It was all that was left.” I lost it, again. Chris said, “I love you, and I am glad you are safe.” It was a miracle that his call came through and his kind voice was a blessing. The walk to Panera seemed like a mile long as we passed tear glazed families walking to anywhere that would take them in for shelter.
We arrived at Panera once again. The doors were unlocked and were welcomed by friendly faces. As we gathered around bagels and apple juice, we began to soak in some of the survival stories from those not so fortunate to be with us in the floor of the cold Panera bathroom that afternoon. Every story of survival tore at my heart. I felt like I was in the midst of a miracle. At that very moment I received a call from my mother histerically crying. In desperation she asked if I was ok. At my positive reply, she informed me that my granny and grandfather Aldridge’s home was taken that live almost two hours away. My step-brother Michael Yarbrough pulled them out of their rubble. My grandfather Raymond was injured and on the way to the hospital in an ambulance. These sentences broke my heart into a thousand pieces. I had never felt so out of control and at that moment, I told my mother I had to go to gather myself. She replied, “I’m sorry, I love you, I need to be there and I can’t. I can’t sit here.”
The mall was being evacuated of non-workers because of the fear of a gas leak that could not be controlled at the present time. Scared and confused, me and Mallory exchanged hugs and promised to call each other when we arrived home.
A drive that usually takes me 10 minutes took me two hours. Out of about a hundred calls, two went through. I have never been so thankful. Comforting calls from my dear friends Justin and Jonathan kept me calm while driving through a back road, praying that my gas wouldn’t run out as I drove under broken powerlines and stripped oak trees across my path. Much of this time I spent deep in thought… listening to chain saws already assessing the damage and overhearing conversations from families on the streets. My focus and sanity remained on getting to my roommates and home to assure that everything was safe.
Pulling into my home of The Retreat was an amazing comfort. Nothing within my neighborhood was damaged and as I parked and ran to the clubhouse of our community I finally got in touch with my father. Afterwards I ran into my roommate, a best friend, and an employee Amy Hicks helping residents outside. As an employee of The Retreat as well, I managed to aid in cleaning out our refrigerators for hungry residents in pajamas surrounding the living room of the clubhouse so that nothing would go to waste. It became a feast of cake and rice from the employee potluck dinner from the night before. The rest of the night I spent in candlelight with my dear friends and co-workers in the living room of house 166 with the windows open and enjoyed the post storm breeze as we laughed and celebrated each other’s presence. At about midnight I walked to my house, lit a candle, and resorted to the only form of successful communication that I had…Facebook. I searched for all of my friend’s status updates to ensure everyone I knew was safe. Thankfully, a miracle led all of my close friends and family in Tuscaloosa free from harm. For the first time in my life I thanked my precious creater for a safe bed and a roof over my head.
April 27th had came to an end, but its aftermath would bring many obstacles to follow. This was the beginning to a brand new appreciation for life. This was the beginning of a challenge that would change the ways of thousands of hungry souls. This was the beginning to a restoration of a town of champions.
God Bless Alabama.
More to come…
Safe, Humbled, Prayerful,
Cassie Olien McCay
