Community Profile: A Helping Hand

On the night of May 22, 2010, a severe storm warning alerted my parents, brother, and five-year-old nephew that something was headed their way. When the howling winds began to slam against the ranch house, they made the decision to hunker down in the cellar with the jellies and vegetables, and wait it out.

As native Nebraskans, this protocol was nothing new to them—just a standard precaution that is exercised several times throughout each spring when Mother Nature releases her fury across the plains. So they waited, and after the worst of the wind and rain had subsided, my brother and father headed out to assess the damage.

The power had been knocked out during the storm, and while they couldn't make out the extent of the damage in the early morning darkness, they breathed in the sweet smell of damp wood, bark, and leaves that only comes from newly felled trees. Thinking it wasn't much worse than countless other storms that had torn through the ranch, they all went to bed and waited for the morning light.

The next morning quickly dispelled any thought that this was like any other storm that we had ever experienced. A tornado had touched down half a mile west of where my family sat waiting, crushed two cattle sheds, and proceeded toward the house. It then felled 100-year-old cottonwoods—six to eight feet in diameter—that had lined the roads when they were just buggy trails.

By a great stroke of luck, the tornado cleared the house by about 50 yards, but its path of destruction was incredible. Hundreds of cottonwoods, elms, and cedars were either split in two or completely uprooted.

As the tornado emerged from the grove of trees surrounding the house, it swallowed 50 big round hay bales. Some of the 1,000-pound bales were sent rolling into fence lines, ripping out a mile of posts and wire. A few bales were slung 300 yards away into the power lines, which of course explained why the power had been knocked out.

The truly amazing thing is what happened next. Neighbors—the closest of which are three to five miles away—began arriving as word spread about the damage inflicted by the tornado. By noon nearly 30 men, women, and children had begun helping with the cleanup. People were raking and piling up the small debris. Chainsaws were cutting the huge trees into sizes that tractors could haul to gigantic piles. The roofs of the sheds were being cleared off the roads and the rural public power team had the power back on by that afternoon.

During the next week, neighbors continued to help mend the fences to keep our cattle in, remove trees and add debris to the tons already accumulating in piles of rotting wood.

There was no grand plan - just a whole lot of caring people showing up to help some neighbors who really needed it. I remember asking my dad how long it would have taken him to just clear the trees and he said it would have taken him months to do what the community managed to do in a few days.

The last few weeks of storms and floods have made me realize how lucky my parents are to live in such a caring rural community. I can only hope that those people dealing with Mother Nature's current wrath are as lucky to have such a support system in the aftermath.

About the author: Ryan Weston was raised on a ranch in Springview, Nebraska, where his family still lives. He currently works in Washington, DC as the Executive Vice President of the Florida Sugar Cane League and DC representative for the Rio Grande Valley Sugar Growers and Hawaiian Commercial and Sugar (HC&S).