Friday's extreme thunderstorm with its 80-mph winds spared my home. A neighbor wasn't so fortunate. Three uprooted 100-ft cottonwood trees hammered his property; one of them landed square on his house and the pickup truck in his driveway.
City crews swept in the next day and cleared much of the debris amid onlookers that came after media publicity turned my street into a twisted tourist attraction. (About half the city population was without electricity; the other half whose TVs still worked took turns driving by.)
It looks like only 1/4 of the house was destroyed; it is unknown whether it's repairable or if hidden structural damage has rendered the building beyond repair. The pickup truck looks as if a locomotive plowed into it.
My neighbor, R., is a good fellow who goes out of his way to help others and has kept his property well and provided assistance to others on the block (including myself) with our groundskeeping. Meanwhile, a nearby public nuisance and alleged "drug house" that collects graffiti and trash (the vehicular and human kind as well as what overfills the Dumpster) was untouched. The unfairness digs at me.
But the most important things were unscathed: R. and his beloved dog. Their survival puts a perspective on the whole disater.
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