History, climate change and lilapsophobia

‘Tis the season. It’s the time of year when we check the batteries in our radios and flashlights, listen for the howl of sirens, and scan the skies for funnel clouds. As residents of “Tornado Alley,” we are too familiar with our seasonal routine.

The recent devastation in Elkhorn and surrounding areas reminds us of the potential devastation caused by tornadic activity and that it can just as easily happen to us. In my thirty years in McCook, I’ve seen valuable crops destroyed, steel buildings twisted, then relocated, and I recall one family farm that suffered severe damage. I have not seen anything that resembles last week’s destruction in the eastern end of the state, but I have heard enough about McCook’s tornado of 1928 to take the matter seriously.

Many years ago, my discovery of that event began when I owned a house on the northwest side of town. While discussing local history at a neighborhood gathering, I learned that the homes on the back side of my block had been built in the 1930s, while the homes on my side were dated from the late 1800s to the early 1900s.

My neighbors explained that it wasn’t because our homes had once been on the outer edge of town (it was further north even then) but that those newer homes had been rebuilt after a massive tornado. Years later, I was invited to attend a tabletop exercise held by McCook’s first responders, where that same tornado of 1928 was used as a hypothetical disaster model. I was alarmed to see the size of the damaged area left by the tornado, but it also confirmed the earlier claims that the destructive winds had moved through what was essentially my backyard at the time.

I have since stumbled upon a grainy photo of my former home, pictured in a 2008 Walt Sehnert column about the 1928 tornado. Walt tells us, “The twister mowed a path five to six blocks wide beginning with the 700 block of West 4th St. and demolished many houses all the way to the canyon at the city’s north edge,” adding, “In some blocks, the destruction was virtually complete. It was estimated that 1,000 people were made homeless from the storm.”

So yes, it has happened here–and it can happen again. The potential is brutal, ugly, and frighteningly unpredictable. NOAA reminds us that although peak tornado season is generally recognized as being from March through July, tornados can happen anywhere and at any time.

On a larger scale, we are learning that Tornado Alley is shifting eastward, with increased activity in Tennessee, the Carolinas, and Georgia. As Nebraskans, we poke a bit of fun at ourselves for our odd tendency to step out on the porch at precisely the time when we are being told to head for the basement, but our curious custom underlines the increased danger to those who live in the southeastern states. While we have the ability to look out over the plains and see funnel clouds from a distance, those in areas thick with trees don’t have the benefit of advanced warning, and that additional element of surprise can be lethal.

An uptick in tornadic activity in all regions has been attributed to climate change. While many of us question the motives of those who offer draconian solutions to the problem, the climate is undeniably changing, and the effects on tornadic activity are more easily understood than the politics.

Warmer temperatures enhance atmospheric instability, and increased temperature differentials provide more energy for thunderstorm development. Warmer temperatures can also increase moisture content in the atmosphere, contributing to the formation of more intense thunderstorms and fueling the updrafts necessary for tornado formation.

Atmospheric circulation patterns, i.e., the jet stream and the “upslope flow,” play crucial roles in the genesis of tornados and are also influenced by warmer temperatures. Consequently, the frequency, intensity, and tracks of storms lead to an increased likelihood of tornado occurrence in our area.

With all of that said, we need not live with an irrational fear, or “Lilapsophobia.” (The term stems from the word for “lilapsos,” the Greek term for “whirlwind,” and “phobos” which means “high insurance rates”). Instead, we need only to have a safety plan, pay attention to warnings, seek shelter when necessary, and remember to make provisions for children, pets, and those who are less mobile. Of course, if trading your F-150 in for a Prius makes you feel better, you can do that too.