Huddled in a Basement

Well, we did the midwest spring ritual last night, heading down to the basement to wait out some storms. Tornadoes touched down a few miles north and west of us, but none actually in our town. It's been a bad year for tornadoes all across the nation this year; probably more than a few people who read this have spent their own evenings in the basement.

We really can't complain; we had a lot of warning. We had apples and crackers, sodas for the kids, folding chairs, and the baby's play pen. We had a radio, and we had a book or two. I read to the boys from The Last Ivory Hunter, Capstick's book about Wally Johnson's life in Mozambique.

We did learn one valuable lesson as a family: Our basement is a filthy, muddy, dark dungeon that's got to get cleaned out this summer.

Of course, I think I recall learning that same lesson last spring.