Monday, May 30, 2011

How We Almost Died

Over the memorial day weekend in MI, a series of tornadoes struck my parents street as I happened to be visiting, all in the course of a few scary chaotic minutes. The power went out due to what we eventually discovered was a massive tree fallen on the power lines a few blocks down.

Once the winds stopped blowing so hard they were pulling apart the trees before my eyes, I exited my parents basement and went to the guestroom to take a nap but instead slept through the rest of the storm. I awoke early in the morning not realizing what had been happening while I slumbered. The power was still off. There were no lights visible anywhere in the black night. From inside I could just make out the treeline.

I decided to take a walk. Anticipating that the simple sounds of a few rousing birds and the early birds on the freeway adjacent, I took along my ipod and headphones. Blasting Black Rebel Motorcycle Club's album 'Take Them On, On Your Own', I walked the road to the highway where a few headlights twinkled in the distance under the remaining stars overhead in a now mostly clear sky that promptly turned purple, then blue, with an array of oranges and pinks in the transition.

It's difficult to describe the alien feeling of this world gone dark. The prehistoric mist that consumed everything at the early hour. Everything like in a ghost town. Nobody anywhere. Traffic light dead. The orange sliver of moon and passing tufts of clouds dissolving into sweeping brush strokes in this unbelievably vivid sky. On the ground, it was so dark, I didn't even realize the carnage around me.

When I got closer to town, I spotted the old movie theater I worked at as a teenager. Only it was behind me when I realized what building it was. The shell station was dark also. A few cars pull in as I wander the parking lot of what was once a popular strip mall, left vacant by the economy of flawed ideals, all but said theater. There is one building in this stretch with no markings or windows still lit by a generator. But why?

I continue walking until I come upon the street where my father works at a plant. The street lights are on here. Side by side are houses without power, kitchens lit by candles as people prepare for work, and their neighbors still in bed with their bushes lit from below by tiny spotlights at 6 am.

I keep walking and Elliot Smith's 'XO' comes on. It's lovely and fitting now that the sky is getting lighter and the world is less ominous. I can see now a lot of trees are down in town. It's impressive the effort made the night before after or possibly amidst the storm to clear the debris from the sidewalk so I could walk here at ungodly hours.

I come to a little park and take a rest. And it is as though the world has stopped. I walk again so I can feel like it continues.

I get to the center of town where I spent so much time a decade ago. Where I made films and took art lessons and shopped for books. In front of the old bookstore I find a bin with a sign. "Books outside are FREE'. I take one that looks interesting and keep walking toward the river and park.

Elvis Costello's immaculate "This Year's Model' comes on and I am inspired to run in my ghost town. A surreal moment ensues when I arrive at the river and it seems that ice is floating in it on a day that will reach 87 degrees. It is of course just foam. Later in my walk I find a beautiful spot where the actual three rivers come together to create this. I walk by the emu cage and say hello.

Upon my return course to Fiona Apple's 'Extraordinary Machine', I finally see the carnage. Enormous trees down everywhere. Crushing houses, cars... many completely uprooted from the soil. Behemoths. Electric lines leaning in that I had walked under, about to collapse. Many collapsed. Transformers on the ground, smashed to bits. A titanic totem leaning on a power cable ready to go. Smashed roofs. Glass on lawns. An apocalypse.

A fleet of trucks rolls in bearing men with large saws and hard hats.
And the world goes on.

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