“It’s the last day of March in Alabama. We should have tornadoes.”
Mom and I were talking earlier this afternoon about the interview that my grandmother did this week with researchers from The Weather Channel regarding the 1974 Super Outbreak, which leveled her hometown of Guin, Alabama. [It's really the only thing Guin's known for.] In the five minutes or so that it’s taken me to write this entry [and watch the TV and call Misty to make sure she knows that the weather's going to crap], the sky outside my house has gone from post-sunset dusk to dark. The nasty center of this storm—which is headed due east—is still 15 to 20 minutes of here, but … man, I was dead on when I spoke the title of this post to Mom on the phone.
This promises to be an ugly night.

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