A SURVIVOR’S STORY
bad weather is likely to happen. T at allows him to sound the sirens more judiciously. “But there’s a limitation to that technology,” he says. “I want to
help the citizen who has the radar app on her phone understand it’s more than just the app—it’s the information. What do you do with that radar image?”
You may not understand everything about the indecipherable blob moving across your screen. But social media, such as Facebook and Twitter, and text messages from emergency services provide vital bits of information that can mean the diff erence between fi nding cover and being exposed to life- threatening conditions. “I want citizens to be able
to process information, but they
have to get the information fi rst,” Colston says. “T at’s why the wireless emergency alerts, Twitter, Facebook, radio broadcasting, television broadcasting—it all fi ts into the warning process.”
T ere’s no substitute, Colston
adds, for being prepared, mentally and physically. To determine your
region’s hazard vulnerabilities, check in with your community’s emergency manager. T en build your network with the people you are likely to count on in any major weather event. “Write the plan down,” says Colston. “T en share it with your neighbors and loved ones.”
Valerie Gintis looked out her offi ce window at the ominous sky above West Springfi eld, Massachusetts, on the afternoon of June 1, 2011. “I had just heard a tornado was coming,” she says, “but it was supposed to hit Northampton.” About 15 miles north of Valerie’s offi ce, Northampton was where her husband, Bill, and 3-year-old daughter, Shira, were at the time.
“So I called Bill and told him to take Shira to the basement,” says Valerie, then seven months pregnant with their second child.
Valerie had never seen a tornado, a rare event in New England. “But there was one woman in my offi ce who was from the Midwest,” Valerie said. “She looked at the sky, announced she was going to the basement and disappeared.” Valerie and her other coworkers stayed put and watched outside as it turned a sickly, textured green.
Then suddenly, Valerie turned around and screamed, “RUN!” Something had shifted suddenly and angrily, and a moment later she and everyone else on her fl oor was on the move.
“I ran down the stairs behind a woman wearing spike heels,” Valerie recalls. “I thought, ‘If she can run in those, I can run seven months pregnant!’ ”
20 goodneighbor®
By the time she reached the fi rst fl oor, all the glass had blown out of the windows. Valerie suddenly realized she had no idea where to go next. “I didn’t know where the basement was, even though I’d worked there for six years!” she says. “I didn’t have a plan.”
As Valerie huddled with her coworkers in a hallway, a delivery guy happened upon them—and told them how to fi nd the basement. When they emerged a few hours later, the building was severely damaged, the street denuded of its tall, stately trees, and Valerie’s car had been, as her 3-year-old later put it, “smushed.”
Valerie was deeply relieved to be okay. But the trauma took its toll. When she got home and calmed down, she realized she hadn’t felt any fetal movement in hours. She called her midwife, who explained that a massive adrenaline rush can have this eff ect on a fetus. “When I fi nally felt kicks the next day,” Valerie said, “I burst into tears.”
Years later Valerie still feels the aftereff ects. “I have weather warning apps dinging on my phone now,” she says. “I pay much more attention to my surroundings, and my offi ce mates know that if it’s stormy, I’m leaving.” Most important? “I know where the basement is in my new offi ce!”
Page 1 |
Page 2 |
Page 3 |
Page 4 |
Page 5 |
Page 6 |
Page 7 |
Page 8 |
Page 9 |
Page 10 |
Page 11 |
Page 12 |
Page 13 |
Page 14 |
Page 15 |
Page 16 |
Page 17 |
Page 18 |
Page 19 |
Page 20 |
Page 21 |
Page 22 |
Page 23 |
Page 24 |
Page 25 |
Page 26 |
Page 27 |
Page 28