The joys of living in the South
Most of you guys know where I live, and yes, I live in the town that got hit by the tornado on Saturday. Normally, when bad weather moves through, if I'm at home (which is a trailer), I take the boys up the lab and we wait it out there. My office is "technically" underground and the building is made out of concrete and steel. If I'm at work, I rush home through whatever weather to get to boys and take them back up to the lab.
But being this was a Saturday, we were at home, and this time, the very first time ever, I didn't leave the house. Everything happened so quickly, had I left the house, I either would have been caught in the middle of it, or wouldn't have been able to get back home for a couple of days since work and home are separated by the path the tornado took. I had the local weather up on my phone and, before it went out, I saw the tornado drop in the middle of town and heading my way.
I called my Sister. I apologized for not getting out, but what I was really saying was goodbye because I knew it was heading straight for me. It did. We huddled in the bathtub, me and the boys (like in a trailer that would help, but I didn't know what else to do), and I stayed on the phone with my Sister the entire time while my Brother-in-Law tracked its path so I'd know when to prepare for, well, our death. I had disaster movie scenarios playing in my head...the boys being ripped from my arms and flying through the air as a huge piece of siding cut me in half. It was the worst feeling ever. And death itself wasn't what scared me. I was mad at myself for putting the boys in danger.
It missed my house literally by only a few hundred feet or so. It destroyed the airport which is behind us and the subdivision two streets over. I took a snapshot from Google maps and drew a little map. The red line is the path of the tornado (although it did curve back and forth a bit, so it didn't go that straight). The purple rectangle is the park where I live. That's how close it came.
Snapshot courtesy of Google Maps.
Then there was the aftermath guilt. Yes, it may sound INCREDIBLY materialistic, but as many people who went on TV saying "our stuff can be replaced, but our lives can't be", my stuff can't be replaced and, if I'm alive but it's gone, I would question my life at that point...that's what being an Asper is. Sometimes, "stuff" means more than life. We're not talking TVs and couches here, we're talking Disney stuff...it's all limited edition collectables, or bought at one of the Disney parks during a particular year, or things that just aren't made anymore. I've had the chance NUMEROUS times to insure it (at an outrageous cost), but even money couldn't replace irreplaceable stuff. Yes, I could buy a new house with the money from the insurance for my collection, but I would prefer to have the stuff. It's a collection I've spent a lifetime curating and it can never be replaced.
I know that all sounds horrible, but a new empty house would be like living in the mental hospital, locked in nothingness and I couldn't live like that. Horribly materialistic, yes. But anyone who knows an Asper will understand this. And it's not just the Disney stuff. There are cheap things in my house that hold a lot of special meaning too...things that come from special trips or cross stitches that took years to finish that can't just be replaced with insurance money. Surely, some of you guys will understand that!
I could get new stuff and might even be able to replace some (but very little) of my old stuff, but it wouldn't be all MY stuff. I still find myself whining over my childhood stuff that got taken away from me by my parents or destroyed for one reason or another, and that was nearly 40 years ago (and some of that I've even managed to replace over the years via eBay or other outlets). Would I trade the boys life for my stuff? No. For that, I draw the line (as I would for my Sister's life). Would I trade my life for my stuff? I'm not sure I want to answer that question as the answer might incriminate me. My Sister would inherit my stuff and the boys, so both would be well taken care of.
But, needless to say, I should break down and start negotiations again to get my collection insured, which also means I need to start a full inventory. Storm season hasn't even technically started yet and this may not be the last tornado we have (although it is the first one we've had since 1973, which I also remember quite vividly, but I was only three at the time, and that's another story for another day). Global warming is changing everything though, and we had a particularly warm winter this year, so I can guarantee we're going to have a rough storm season. Yea.
On the plus side, for the rest of the town, there were very few injuries, no deaths, and only two hospitalizations. Everyone was home because of COVID, so anyone that would have been in packed in the mall was home. The restaurants were closed to the public for the same reason. Gateway was closed because they always close at noon on Saturday.
What I will say though, and what really I found interesting about all the people who tell me all the time that I need to get out of my trailer because of storms...the houses that got demolished were all full brick homes, heartily built (some of them in the $400-700,000 range, but most in the $250,000 range). In this town, that's a pretty expensive price point for a house. These were people who can afford to rebuild, buy new stuff and probably weren't very attached to the stuff they did have (other than their personal pictures and what nots). These were people with families, so that's where their loyalties lie. I will also say, people are finding pets roaming all over town because they got loose when the storm hit, so apparently these pet owners aren't too worried about their animals. I'd be scouring the town looking for my boys first, THEN the debris of my house, but whatever. Maybe my ideals are misplaced again. I don't have a live-in family. I only have my stuff and my boys.
Misplaced loyalties, maybe, but it is what it is for me and I can't change what I feel or how I think. But I need to find a better way to protect it. If I thought I could live away from my stuff (which I can't, it's like a security blanket), I would lock it all up safely in some vault somewhere (like I could afford that either). The water table is too high in the town I'm going to move to when I can eventually afford to build a new house, or I'd have a basement (which would provide more safety than a second floor bonus room, which I'm now completely ruling out, since I just saw almost every house that had one get theirs completely wiped away).
By Sunday morning, after a nightmare-filled night of me driving around the neighborhood picking up Disney items from yards everywhere, yelling at everyone "DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!", I was ready to hop on a plane to Cali, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Then the realization hit that, if I moved to Cali, I'd have the same issue with earthquakes (which we have here too, FYI, since we sit right on top of the New Madrid fault), so I'd just be trading one disaster zone for another. Not so sure I'm ready for that either.
Tonight, the inventory process will begin. I will email the insurance lady and start negotiations for insuring my collection (I'm sure the rates will now go up exponentially), and I'll have to find a way to prepare myself for the fact that I could loose everything I've worked for my entire life in a matter of seconds. That's not been something I've dwelt on much, but now it's all I can think about.
Funny story though, my Sister texted me yesterday that Zulily had Funkos. I quickly texted back that I wasn't buying another thing as long as I lived, especially Funkos! I managed to get the courage to go to Target just Friday night (the day before the storm, Target is in the mall and received some damage, but not a lot) and, despite getting some necessities, I wasted $30 on a 10" Olaf Funko. Everyone standing around buying essential groceries and other items during a pandemic, and here I was with a gigantic Funko in my buggy! It looked horrible and I got more than one dirty look, but I didn't care because I wanted it. I can't help but wonder if this tornado was my wake up call for that little show of materialism during a pandemic. Yes, I have several Funkos preordered (which I won't cancel), but for now, Disney spending (as well as all other extraneous spending) is on hiatus.
But being this was a Saturday, we were at home, and this time, the very first time ever, I didn't leave the house. Everything happened so quickly, had I left the house, I either would have been caught in the middle of it, or wouldn't have been able to get back home for a couple of days since work and home are separated by the path the tornado took. I had the local weather up on my phone and, before it went out, I saw the tornado drop in the middle of town and heading my way.
I called my Sister. I apologized for not getting out, but what I was really saying was goodbye because I knew it was heading straight for me. It did. We huddled in the bathtub, me and the boys (like in a trailer that would help, but I didn't know what else to do), and I stayed on the phone with my Sister the entire time while my Brother-in-Law tracked its path so I'd know when to prepare for, well, our death. I had disaster movie scenarios playing in my head...the boys being ripped from my arms and flying through the air as a huge piece of siding cut me in half. It was the worst feeling ever. And death itself wasn't what scared me. I was mad at myself for putting the boys in danger.
It missed my house literally by only a few hundred feet or so. It destroyed the airport which is behind us and the subdivision two streets over. I took a snapshot from Google maps and drew a little map. The red line is the path of the tornado (although it did curve back and forth a bit, so it didn't go that straight). The purple rectangle is the park where I live. That's how close it came.
Snapshot courtesy of Google Maps.
Then there was the aftermath guilt. Yes, it may sound INCREDIBLY materialistic, but as many people who went on TV saying "our stuff can be replaced, but our lives can't be", my stuff can't be replaced and, if I'm alive but it's gone, I would question my life at that point...that's what being an Asper is. Sometimes, "stuff" means more than life. We're not talking TVs and couches here, we're talking Disney stuff...it's all limited edition collectables, or bought at one of the Disney parks during a particular year, or things that just aren't made anymore. I've had the chance NUMEROUS times to insure it (at an outrageous cost), but even money couldn't replace irreplaceable stuff. Yes, I could buy a new house with the money from the insurance for my collection, but I would prefer to have the stuff. It's a collection I've spent a lifetime curating and it can never be replaced.
I know that all sounds horrible, but a new empty house would be like living in the mental hospital, locked in nothingness and I couldn't live like that. Horribly materialistic, yes. But anyone who knows an Asper will understand this. And it's not just the Disney stuff. There are cheap things in my house that hold a lot of special meaning too...things that come from special trips or cross stitches that took years to finish that can't just be replaced with insurance money. Surely, some of you guys will understand that!
I could get new stuff and might even be able to replace some (but very little) of my old stuff, but it wouldn't be all MY stuff. I still find myself whining over my childhood stuff that got taken away from me by my parents or destroyed for one reason or another, and that was nearly 40 years ago (and some of that I've even managed to replace over the years via eBay or other outlets). Would I trade the boys life for my stuff? No. For that, I draw the line (as I would for my Sister's life). Would I trade my life for my stuff? I'm not sure I want to answer that question as the answer might incriminate me. My Sister would inherit my stuff and the boys, so both would be well taken care of.
But, needless to say, I should break down and start negotiations again to get my collection insured, which also means I need to start a full inventory. Storm season hasn't even technically started yet and this may not be the last tornado we have (although it is the first one we've had since 1973, which I also remember quite vividly, but I was only three at the time, and that's another story for another day). Global warming is changing everything though, and we had a particularly warm winter this year, so I can guarantee we're going to have a rough storm season. Yea.
On the plus side, for the rest of the town, there were very few injuries, no deaths, and only two hospitalizations. Everyone was home because of COVID, so anyone that would have been in packed in the mall was home. The restaurants were closed to the public for the same reason. Gateway was closed because they always close at noon on Saturday.
What I will say though, and what really I found interesting about all the people who tell me all the time that I need to get out of my trailer because of storms...the houses that got demolished were all full brick homes, heartily built (some of them in the $400-700,000 range, but most in the $250,000 range). In this town, that's a pretty expensive price point for a house. These were people who can afford to rebuild, buy new stuff and probably weren't very attached to the stuff they did have (other than their personal pictures and what nots). These were people with families, so that's where their loyalties lie. I will also say, people are finding pets roaming all over town because they got loose when the storm hit, so apparently these pet owners aren't too worried about their animals. I'd be scouring the town looking for my boys first, THEN the debris of my house, but whatever. Maybe my ideals are misplaced again. I don't have a live-in family. I only have my stuff and my boys.
Misplaced loyalties, maybe, but it is what it is for me and I can't change what I feel or how I think. But I need to find a better way to protect it. If I thought I could live away from my stuff (which I can't, it's like a security blanket), I would lock it all up safely in some vault somewhere (like I could afford that either). The water table is too high in the town I'm going to move to when I can eventually afford to build a new house, or I'd have a basement (which would provide more safety than a second floor bonus room, which I'm now completely ruling out, since I just saw almost every house that had one get theirs completely wiped away).
By Sunday morning, after a nightmare-filled night of me driving around the neighborhood picking up Disney items from yards everywhere, yelling at everyone "DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF!", I was ready to hop on a plane to Cali, do not pass go, do not collect $200. Then the realization hit that, if I moved to Cali, I'd have the same issue with earthquakes (which we have here too, FYI, since we sit right on top of the New Madrid fault), so I'd just be trading one disaster zone for another. Not so sure I'm ready for that either.
Tonight, the inventory process will begin. I will email the insurance lady and start negotiations for insuring my collection (I'm sure the rates will now go up exponentially), and I'll have to find a way to prepare myself for the fact that I could loose everything I've worked for my entire life in a matter of seconds. That's not been something I've dwelt on much, but now it's all I can think about.
Funny story though, my Sister texted me yesterday that Zulily had Funkos. I quickly texted back that I wasn't buying another thing as long as I lived, especially Funkos! I managed to get the courage to go to Target just Friday night (the day before the storm, Target is in the mall and received some damage, but not a lot) and, despite getting some necessities, I wasted $30 on a 10" Olaf Funko. Everyone standing around buying essential groceries and other items during a pandemic, and here I was with a gigantic Funko in my buggy! It looked horrible and I got more than one dirty look, but I didn't care because I wanted it. I can't help but wonder if this tornado was my wake up call for that little show of materialism during a pandemic. Yes, I have several Funkos preordered (which I won't cancel), but for now, Disney spending (as well as all other extraneous spending) is on hiatus.
