Nashville Tornado: the morning after

When I woke up in another state, with 70 text messages, this morning...I wondered if word had gotten out about my plans over the coming months. I had that little sinking feeling in my gut as I tried to focus my eyes on the tiny font on my phone (I wear contacts, and didn’t sleep in them).

When I realized that most of the texts started with “are you ok?” that sinking feeling sunk deeper. ‘Tornado’ ‘your family’ ‘Nashville’

Those words smashed together into one massive gut punch as I realized the “storms” that Corri had noted - as I talked to her and the kids on FaceTime last night - were much worse than we’d suspected at that moment.

I scrolled my texts, looking for my wife’s name...hoping she’d checked in to tell me how much she hates tornadoes or to send a photo of her and the boys in her closet with toys and bottles of water (wine). There was no text from Corri - I scrolled lower and lower with blurry no-contacts vision.

I hadn’t yet seen the photos of the legendary Basement East - knocked in half, with just the infamous “I Believe In Nashville” mural still standing on a section of wall - I hadn’t seen the rubble that undoubtedly fell into the appliances that used to make truffle fries at Burger Up and the devastation of Five Points, East Nashville, Mt Juliet and Donelson. I didn’t yet know the stories of people who were saved from beneath the rubble of their homes and the sadness associated with the stories of those who were not saved.

If I had seen any of that, or understood how devastating this tornado was to my city - a hometown with such a unique identity that each brick that was displaced feels familiar and personal - I have no doubt I’d have started ‘Super Tuesday’ feeling absolutely opposite of Super. Helpless. As I quickly scrolled through that text list, my vision held on a C, hidden behind an ampersand...seeing that my wife had just replied to one of our friends who had checked in on a group text. Even without context, this moment was a wave of relief.

I quickly gave up on the text scroll and went straight to the source. Corri confirmed that she, Radley and Sebastian are fine. She told me of the friends we hadn’t yet heard from (one of them is a sleeper-in)..and now we are mostly accounted for.

The photos that have since left my jaw on the floor have been followed by videos that stop my heart. The storms that rolled across the crane-filled city that I call home are terrifying. We have so many friends to check in with. Those without a direct connection to family and friends certainly know the famous voices and faces that were taking shelter beneath the skies of that storm.

I can hardly imagine what I’ll see as my plane flies in, later today. To see this reality from the sky will be heartbreaking.

My love and thoughts are with the families whose lives are different this morning than they were last night.

Radley looks toward the Music City skyline from East Nashville