Part One: Age 10 - The Tornado
A four-part series detailing the life-altering experience of a boy who, at the ages of 10, 13, and 19, faced three traumatic events that would shape his success [and failure] for years to come.
The Tornado
Like many summer break days, my best friend Jesse and I played outside, rode bikes, ate freezies, and for the most part, let our imaginations run free. We loved sports, mainly football and basketball, but we weren't too picky. Quite frankly, any activity that allowed us to hang out and be friends was perfect. Our new friendship was formed in grade five; Jesse's family had moved to the area a year prior, but it wasn't long before the two of us became fast friends. Our houses were less than two blocks apart with a shortcut that ran down a back alley beside a wooded ravine. I rode my bike so many times to his house that I can still remember the bumps and potholes on the road 35 years later. We had a good life.
Growing up in Edmonton meant living in four distinct seasons, with summer highs reaching 30°C and winter lows that could touch -40°C. This particular day was warm with temperatures in the high 27°C range, so Jesse and I decided to play basketball out on the driveway. As usual, we were competitive and pushed each other to be better. The game of choice that day was H-O-R-S-E. A game where you take turns trying to make difficult shots that the other player must successfully copy, or they receive a letter. Scorekeeping is easy; the first player to receive all the HORSE letters...loses the game. The game was super fun; we made some crazy shots, missed even more crazy shots, but continued to play for the better part of the day.
Today was Friday, July 31st, 1987, no different than any other summer vacation day, but a series of events over the next 12 hours would change our lives forever.
Friday, July 31, 1987.
In the early afternoon, we started to run out of ideas for crazy shots and naturally, the game fizzled out. At this point, I remember sitting down and leaning back on the fence taking in the moment and thinking about what we should do next. Just as I leaned my head back to close my eyes and take a minute, there was a glowing purple colour that caught my attention.
"Jesse, Jesse," I called. "Look at the sky! What is that?"
There was a rolling wall of clouds tumbling across the sky with a slow and deliberate mixing of energy, sound, and colours I had never witnessed in the clouds before. You question reality as you feel this churning power in the air and the deepest shades of purple, blue, and black messing with your vision. To explain it is hard, but the closest thing I can compare is the underwater view of a wave rolling into shore. Picture that, but coming overhead and down from the sky.
After Jesse and I had a moment to digest, without saying a word, we mutually agreed that the next activity should be indoors. So off we went into my basement to play with some remote-controlled cars I recently received for my 10th birthday. With both of us in a safe place but still slightly unsettled, we set up a racetrack and added some jumps to increase the excitement level. There was one car faster than the other, so we decided to take turns seeing who could navigate the track quickest.
Our house was a modest bungalow in a middle-class neighbourhood, built in the baby-boom era of the '60s, so most of the homes in the area had similar 1,000 sq/ft layouts. Basements were common and dug to ground level, meaning windows would need a window well to allow light in and emergency access. From experience, they are tough windows to crawl out of and equally challenging to sneak back in.
I finished my turn and started watching my best bud Jesse race around the track. It was dark in the basement that day, and my eyes seemed to be playing tricks on me. After seeing the deep purple wave in the sky, I suspected there was some effect from coming straight to the basement from outside. I rubbed my eyes to see if it would go away, but this blurry sensation was still there. It looked like the basement wall behind Jesse had turned to water. I closed my eyes again to clear my vision and look one more time. Nope, still there.
I asked Jesse to turn around and tell me what he saw, "Look at the wall Jesse. Does it look weird to you?" in my calmest scared voice.
He replied with a bit of panic, "oh no, there is water all over."
As I glanced at the window, I could see the window well full of water, and what was once a light trickle rolling down the wall had now turned into a full-on indoor waterfall. Our toys were beginning to float as the basement filled; we had no time to spare, so I ran upstairs to get my Mom and alert her of the situation. To my surprise, her suggestion was for everyone (including my younger brother Joel) to run across the street to our neighbours, Jack & Diane. I'm still unsure how that came about, but my mother was alert to the situation upon us. When the four of us arrived, they were expecting us, as the door swung open before we could knock. Once inside, the TV played in the background as we awkwardly roamed around the house. The channel was set to the local news and just loud enough to hear some commentary about an apparent tornado sighting.
Remember, this is 1987, and there are no cell phones or 24/7 news outlets. All we had was cable TV and the radio to stay up to date.
I ignored the TV at first until a picture of a massive black funnel the size of a mountain was flashed on the screen. That was the first time I saw a tornado. Immediately I recalled the clouds Jesse and I saw earlier and the waterfall in our basement to give me a better picture of the severity of this storm. What we had just experienced was not even close to what the news channel showed on TV.
It would later be known as Black Friday. A category four tornado that was 1.3 km wide, with wind speeds of 418 km/hr, and travelled on the ground for an hour while it created a 30 km path of destruction.
The Car Ride
We returned home several hours later after the rain and storm had passed. Jesse had already been picked up, so it was just my Mom, brother, and I. My Dad was still at work, but we would get in the car and head to my aunt's house, as my Mom advised him to meet us there.
This was so strange. Yes, my mother was close to her sister, and we did spend a lot of time with my aunt, Uncle, and three cousins, but after what we just went through, it didn't seem like the time to go for a BBQ. When we arrived, my Dad and several other extended family members were already there. Now, this was [really] not making any sense to me.
"What is going on," I asked. "Is this a surprise party?"
My Mom answered with the group watching, "no, Ryan, it's not a party. Your Dad and Uncle Jack are getting your Uncle Grant from work."
My Uncle Grant married my Mom's sister Judy, and they had three kids. So usually, when we were getting together, if it wasn't for a joyous occasion, it was the five of us cousins playing and having a good time.
Some time passed, and it was getting dark. Everyone was sitting in the living room when the front door opened. In walked my Uncle Jack, then my Dad. I expected to see my Uncle Grant walk through the door next, but that didn't happen. At this point, I struggled to put everything happening around me into context.
I can't remember exactly who told me the next part, but I recall the words with absolute clarity.
"We couldn't find your Uncle at work. We believe he may have come across the tornado."
A sinking feeling entered my stomach as I now understood what the last 8 hours of confusion were all about. Nobody had answers, and I, being 10, was the oldest of all the cousins, so it made sense to protect us for as long as possible.
I slept on the floor of the living room that night. The rigid foam of the couch pillow propped my head as the carpet provided all the cushion a child would need. I wanted to be there. I wanted to be in the living room close to the front door, so I could give my Uncle Grant a hug when he walked through. I wished for the entire day to be a distant memory. A memory that we could look back on and give my Uncle a hard time for making the family wait and wonder.
A Morning to Forget
By this time, it was morning, and I had no idea what time it was or if I had slept. Would we receive some logical explanation for why my Uncle never made it home from work?
The house was still full of relatives but now had much calmer energy. In hindsight, I think everyone was now dealing with the harsh reality of the unimaginable tornado that ripped through our city. The papers and news outlets reported on any information they could get. Pictures and videos were shared by eyewitnesses, and helicopter views from above the destruction were showing up everywhere.
Images such as these would continue to roll out for the next several weeks as rescue efforts and eventual clean-up progressed. The city was numb. We were numb.
The Second Wave
Now more friends and relatives were arriving at my Aunts house, and every one of them had a sombre, teary disposition. I wanted to say something like, “don’t cry; he’ll be home soon,” but the words never came. What did come, though, was the second wave of news.
My Mom entered the room and asked me to come over and sit with her. I was happy she asked, and I needed the comfort of motherly love. As I nestled in, she ask if we could talk. “Yes," I said, wanting to get some answers on the situation. Then, in a very gentle way, with tears rolling down her face, she mustered up her bravery and said, "I'm sorry to tell you this, Ryan, your Uncle Grant was killed yesterday. His work truck was found hit by the tornado."
We sat there silent for what seemed like an hour but was probably only 30 seconds, with thoughts racing through my head. Thoughts that didn’t even make sense, like, when will we go home, and when can I play with Jesse? Maybe this was my brain telling me it couldn’t handle the news. Or maybe the comfort of my home and best friend was engrained in my body that this was the only way out?
As one would expect from a 10-year-old, I do remember asking my Mom a few more questions to try and get clarity. Most of the answers to those questions were probably still unknown to my Mom, but she did a great job communicating them. As sad as I was to hear my Uncle passed, I didn't cry. Not because I didn't want to, I just couldn't.
The next few years were an adjustment for everyone, but our family was strong, and we supported each other.
Little did we know that this would be the first domino to fall in a long line of tragic events that would impact the family forever.
Next:
Part Two: Age 13 - The Accident
Part Three: Age 19 - The Sound
Part Four: Present Day - The Rise
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I want to acknowledge the tragic death of my Uncle Grant. If there is a way for us to read things in the afterlife, I want him to know that he helped shape me into the man I am today. RIP
The 1987 tornado that devastated the Edmonton region claimed the lives of 27 people, injured 300+, created millions of dollars in damage, and caused thousands of people to lose their homes, pets, and possessions.
I pay tribute to all the lives lost and deeply respect those families affected as they continue to march forward each day..
Photo Credits:
The Otter | H&H | Wikipedia | Canadian Red Cross