LARGETONY Blog

I’ve gotten a few e-mails about the tornadoes that whipped through parts of Indiana, Illinois, Kentucky, and that general region on Sunday night. I got e-mails because some tornadoes hit parts of Tennessee, too, and people have been nice enough to sort of check up and see if everything is okay with me and Granny. Even though I feel for the people who suffered some pretty heavy loss, I’m happy to say that we’re doing okay.

The tornadoes hit out in the western part of Tennessee and we are in the east. For those of you who don’t know the geography of Tennessee (and unless you lived here, why would you? I mean, I have no idea what Paris is like, other than the Eiffel Tower and heavy smokers) the state is long and narrow, and is basically a nine hour drive across. The Smoky (and people, please don’t spell it Smokie or Smokey, unless you want to show that you’re ignernt ) Mountains are out here in the east and as you go west, the state gets lower and flatter down to the Mississippi River. So, in most cases, when you hear about tornadoes in Tennessee it’s most likey out in the west. (Unless you’re at Dollywood, where they have a roller coaster called the Tennessee Tornado.)

But that doesn’t mean we don’t get some bad storms around here. We had one bad one around 8 or 9 that evening, but then one hit in the middle of the night that was a doozy. Heavy winds, rain so hard that it sounded like somebody throwing gravel against the windows. My understanding there was some hail, too. I’m not positve cause it was the middle of the night and dark out. But I can’t imagine there was a little league team out in the rain tossing baseballs against the house at 2 in the morning. So, it must have been the hail. Lordy, it was some kind of storm. Probably about as close to tornado you can get up in the mountains. It wouldn’t would not have surprised me one bit to see a cow fly the window.

There was no cow going by, but the next morning it was like something out of “The Wizard of Oz.” You see, every morning when the weather is warm, I eat my breakfast out on the back porch. (It goes back to something I used to do with my Mama, and it’s kind of like a way that I still spend time with her even though she’s gone.) The weather has started to get warm enough lately that I can go out there with a thermal shirt and be comfortable.

When I opened the back door and stepped outside I almost gasped. The storm had dumped so much water and soaked the ground so much that I swear that everything turned green over night. I’m not shittin’ you folks. On Sunday, there were brown patches with a few dots of new grass here and there, but that morning suddenly everything was full and lush and green. Insanely brilliant Green. Technicolor Green. Kermit-the-frog’s-nut-sack Green.

I literally stopped dead in my tracks and just stared. It was like one of those moments where time stops and you don’t hear anything but your heartbeat. Except my heart must have stopped momentarily cause all I remember hearing was a chorus of sopranos going “Aaaaaaahhh…” I knew what Dorothy had felt when she first stepped into Munchkinland. No pink bubble came floating down from the North, but, again, I wouldn’t have been too surprised if it had.

When I finally came down off my high enough to sit down and eat my oatmeal, I started thinking about that moment in “The Wizard of Oz.” In the nearly thirty years I have been watching that movie (and I love it, by the way. It’s one of the things that helps me keep my gay card. Well…that and liking dick.) it took that glorious Monday morning dawn for it to dawn on me that the transition from black and white to color in the film wasn’t just about the rainbow. I wasn’t just a metaphor. It’s what really happens after a storm. Think about it. Think how beautiful nature is, when the sun returns, after being roughed up by the elements. It’s like a new world even when it’s a world you know.

And that’s where me and Dorothy differ (aside from the fact that I would look pretty goofy in pig tails and a checkered dress…not to mention those little ankle socks). She was looking in awe at a world she had never seen. Me, I was in awe of a world that I know well, but still punches me in the gut with it’s beauty.

It wasn’t “We’re not in Kansas, anymore.” It was, “This is Tennessee!” Morning is my favorite time of day, anyway. And my favorite mornings are East Tennessee spring mornings. Okay, so I have never seen spring mornings in other places, but I am willing to bet my scrotum that it doesn’t get any better any place else. You know…”…no place like home.”

This entry was posted on Tuesday, April 4th, 2006 at 10:36 pm and is filed under observations. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.