Moments later a weather alert email appeared, saying there was a tornado watch in effect. I heard rain and thunder, and a little later my lights flickered and went out. The wind was picking up, so I went to a window to see what was happening.

By then the wind had turned to a dull roar. Sheets of rain were blowing horizontally across the ground. The trees were bending and swaying. Every so often the wind would die down just a bit, and then a blast of spray would flush through the trees, shaking every limb and leaf. The wind patterns, how they traveled over the roofs of the nearby apartments, and moved along the ground, cannot be described. It was like nothing I’d ever witnessed. It made me think of hurricane footage I’d seen on TV. (I later learned the wind gusts had exceeded 100 mph. The radio hosts called it an “inland hurricane.”)

I got my camera and took a little bit of video. But even though I was on the south side of the house, with the winds coming from the north, the currents were so strong that they kept blowing spray back under my porch, so I had to put the camera away to keep it from getting wet. Just seconds after I turned it off, I saw a tree fall in the woods behind my place, just a few feet from where I had aimed the camera.

The winds continued unabated for a little while, I’m not sure how long. It seems like it may have been an hour, and then it gradually slowed and stopped. The sun came out, and it might have been a beautiful day, if not for all the damage that had been done.

I got in my car to get my mail at the post office, and was amazed by what I saw. Fallen branches were everywhere. Small pieces of leaves were plastered to the north side of walls and cars and across roofs. I had to stop and clear away some small limbs to get through to the main road. While doing that, I noticed a new stream I had never seen before, emptying into the full and near-to-overflowing ditch that runs under the road.

On highway 34, a large tree had fallen near the Firestones’ home (formerly Dee Hilderbrand’s home, and the Sheltons’ before that), and was fully blocking one lane of the road. Other trees were down all over town. There was no power at the post office, and I was glad snail mail can be retrieved without electricity!

A little later I went into Benton to get some groceries at Wal-Mart. I was surprised to see that the power was off in Benton too, and trees had fallen across the road there in town. I had to take a side street detour to get around. A number of semi trucks, unable to take the side streets, were lined up for a block or so, waiting for a tree to be removed. Many of the traffic lights were not working, so every intersection had become a 4-way stop. It was slow going.

Thankfully at Wal-Mart the power was on. I got everything I needed. I met a coworker, Ted, and his wife there, and Ted told me several tornados had been sighted in the area. He had personally seen a funnel come down, and then go back up, apparently without doing any damage.

Naive as I was about how much damage had occurred, I expected that by the time I finished at Wal-Mart, the tree would be gone, the power would be back on, and everything would be back to normal. But I was surprised that the trip back through town was about the same as before.

I spent the rest of the afternoon waiting in vain for the power to come back. I went for walks, cleaned the house, read a little. I went over to 3ABN, and saw the main power was off there too, and they were running on backup generators. Several of the bradford pear trees were down, blocking the main entrance.

Trees blocking main entrance to 3ABN

I returned home. Eventually the sun set, and the sky turned dark. I pulled out an electric lantern, which thankfully still had a charge from probably a year or more ago, and made sure my flashlight worked. I listened to music, and then, with nothing else to do, I went to bed early — around 8:30.

Sabbath morning the power was still off. I was happy that there was still plenty of hot water, so I had a warm shower. I got dressed and went to church.

With no lighting, the main sanctuary was too dark to be used. But the church has a wing with lots of windows and skylights, so chairs were set up there, and that’s where we had both Sabbath school and church. There was a good class discussion, and in place of the sermon we had a powerful testimony by Brenda Walsh. A lot of people were moved to tears as she told about her recent experience reaching out to women inmates at a particular prison, and the miracles that made it possible. I actually enjoyed the service a lot—the smaller number of people present made it seem more intimate, and we sang regular old hymns with accompaniment from an upright piano. It was like being in a small church family.

I went back home for lunch, and spent the rest of the day reading, walking, and resting. I finally finished a book I had been working on for a couple years now! Although at times I felt a bit bored, the relaxed pace with getting to sleep early, and having no computers or internet, actually seemed rejuvenating.

Saturday night I went on a scouting mission for more groceries and ice. It was then that I began to get an idea of just how bad and widespread the damage was. The groceries were no problem, but ice was not to be found. In the grocery store parking lot I was surprised to see ten “bucket trucks” and some other service vehicles. Listening to the radio, I learned that every city and town around me had been hit, and nearly all had lost power. Some were expecting to be without power for 10-14 more days. I went to the larger city of Marion, but was surprised to find the whole town in darkness. Although the grocery store had lights on, it was closed. I learned most of the counties in southern Illinois had imposed an 8:30 or 9:00 curfew because of the storm damage; it was then about 9:30.

At night it was getting quite cool. Usually I sleep with the window a bit open, but I began to wonder if the computer equipment in my bedroom contributes more heat than I thought, because with all of that stuff off, my room was getting almost cold. I actually had a hard time sleeping that second night after the storm, because I was not adequately covered, even after getting up in the middle of the night to add another blanket.

Meanwhile all my food was starting to go bad, as the refrigerator and freezer gradually warmed. My oven is electric, so I was eating only foods that didn’t need heating. I was tempted to pull out my camp cook stove just to get something warm in my stomach, but never did.

On Sunday I heard that our water was going to cease. Reportedly, there was a leak in the town’s water tower, and they were about to shut it off. So I filled every available container with all the water I could. Then, to top it off, I learned that my street’s septic system has an electric pump; with the pump not working, there was danger of it backing up into the houses and apartments. So one of my last creature comforts—an abundance of pure, fresh water, with working toilets and showers—was suddenly yanked out from beneath me. But somehow at this point, I took it in stride, and it didn’t bother me too much. (I later learned the rumor about the water tower was false.)

On Sunday I drove into West Frankfort. I had heard the McDonalds restaurant there offered free wireless internet. Also, I wanted to recharge my laptop, which I could do with an inverter plugged into the cigarette lighter port while driving. I could also catch more news on the car radio (no radio at home). And I could get a bite to eat.

McDonalds was a success. With my iPod Touch I was able to update people about what was happening. (The register attendant seemed a little surprised that I only ordered a lemonade. But what else is there for the health-conscious at McDonalds?) After that I got a “Veggie Delight” at Subway, and returned home.

On the way home I heard gloomy news suggesting that Thompsonville, where I live, might be without power until Tuesday or even Wednesday. Still, I was thankful to be faring well. Many had suffered property damage, even loss of their homes.

A bright spot was listening to the stories on the radio of all the people, businesses, and churches that were doing things to help others in this difficult time. It made me think of what our church could—should—have been doing: providing food, ice, shelter. I also heard many people repeat this same idea: that they were reading books again, talking to their neighbors again, spending time with their families again. With no TV or other gadgets, the simpler pleasures of life were coming back.

Later on Sunday there was a glimmer of hope: I looked down my road, and saw lights. Could it be true? I wondered. I got in my car and drove down to take a look. Sure enough, street lights and building lights were on. Looking down another road, I saw 3ABN’s lights on. I called to let someone know, and then returned home to see if I had power. But I learned that the lights and buildings I had seen were on another power company’s system. My power was still gone. Still, I was a bit cheered as I went to bed.

Early in the morning I got a call from a coworker, Dee, telling me that power was back on. I switched the circuit breakers back to the “on” position, and was happy to hear the sounds of devices coming back to life throughout the house. Warm water, a working refrigerator, a working oven, a computer with Internet access—how blessed we are by all these things we take for granted. But I also learned there are blessings that come when we don’t have them.

* * *

Back at 3ABN, I learned firsthand what some coworkers and others had been through. Some had trees or branches or boards crash through their roofs. The pole barn of one person’s neighbor was completely blown apart, and the pieces were deposited in their yard. One weird story was about coworkers Tom and Vicki: Someone had dumped off a full five ton sceptic tank on their property, when an axel broke on the vehicle that was carrying it. But the owner never came back for it, and the methane began to build pressure. They were told by others that if it exploded it could level their house. Thankfully, after they reported it to local state agencies, it was taken away.

Here’s a picture of the fleet of vehicles that came to restore power. I heard 1300 crew members or more were sent to the area.

To the best of my knowledge, no life was lost due to the storm. And 3ABN remained on air nearly three days without utility power, running on their own generators. And my electric shaver, rechargeable lights, water, and food never ran out.

I had to laugh to myself when I saw it. Illinois is definitely corn and soybean country. I had no idea such a magazine existed, although it’s not too surprising. As my girlfriend Yara pointed out, even corn and soybeans “have their own importance.” Now I’m going to keep an eye out for The Sugar Beet Weekly.

Here in Thompsonville, the line was very short. I think I had one person standing in front of me, and then I had a few minutes of waiting before a voting booth was cleared. It was educational in a small but significant way. The first thing I realized is that I had absolutely no opinion about 80-90% of the candidates, either personally or in terms of their platforms (I’m including all positions, including local government). I voted on a few people that I had some opinion of, but mostly stuck to laws and propositions.

One humorous thing about our local election is that several of the positions had only one person running for them. It was like being in an old East Bloc nation where you can vote, but there is only one name on the ballot. 

There was also a section about local judges where you could actually vote against someone; that was surprising, although it may be perfectly normal (is it that way everywhere?).

On the way out I got a little “I Voted” sticker, now adorning my computer at work. It was satisfying to participate as one little pebble, adding a very tiny but important weight to the giant scales of democracy.

I wish I knew the name of it. I thought the shape of it was pretty cool. We don’t have too many exotic flowers in Illinois, so spotting this seemed rather special.

Unfortunately, chiggers are nearly microscopic, and chigger bites only appear after the damage is done. By then the chigger has already packed up and said goodbye. After feeding, chiggers drop off and turn into harmless adults. Sometimes extra chiggers may tag along, hiding in your shoes, socks, carpet, bedding, etc., and come out for dinner later. For this reason, if you’ve been in chigger country, it’s a good idea to take a shower and put your clothes in the wash after you get home. (If you’ve had a bad experience with chiggers in the past, you may be tempted to burn your clothes.) Using insect repellent works well at keeping them off.

Like their relatives, ticks, chiggers seem to prefer tight, warm places between skin and clothing, and so socks and waists are frequent targets. They leave behind extremely itchy welts, lasting a few days to a week or so.

On this occasion I ended up with about 30 chigger bites, mostly around my ankles, as well as a little poison ivy rash on my right ankle for good measure.

This experience got me to thinking about chiggers: what they are, where they live, what they do in their free time.

After all, there are only so many hosts for a chigger to choose from, and one can never know when a host might come by. Life as a young chigger must have its long, lonely moments. I imagine groups of intellectual young chiggers passionately debating whether it’s better to “wait” or be more proactive. You only go through the life cycle once, and whoever you pick, you’re stuck with.

Of course, whether a chigger chooses to wait or hunt probably depends on its location. Country chiggers who choose to hunt could end up on wild goose chases or chasing rabbits. There’s lots of wild, open spaces, and it can be hard to catch someone who’s just passing through. On the other hand, waiting could go on for a long, long time. A suitable match might never swing by. Life can seem hard and a bit random for the chigger trying to make it in the country.

But things are different if you’re a city chigger. For the lucky chigger living near the big city, life is constant action. You hardly need to do anything. In fact, you can practically just sit there, looking pretty, and some sweet dear might come along and practically sit on you. On the other hand, if you jump at the first bite, you might miss a better option. A new one comes by every few minutes sometimes, so it’s safe to bide one’s time and wait. You just don’t want to get into a habit of waiting, because you’re only young for so long, and you need to get busy and start a family while you still can. Of course, with increased opportunities come increased risks. The environment can be quite toxic. The city isn’t the ideal place you’d want to raise larva.

For some reason, once chiggers reach adulthood (at which point they are no longer chiggers, but full fledged mites), they all go vegan. I suppose a fast-paced lifestyle of living off cellular fluids eventually catches up with you, and it’s nice to just sit back and sip vegetable juices. “They goes grandpa,” the young chiggers say, “drinking his green grass juice.” Meanwhile, their eyes are on the legs of a pretty young woman passing by. Here she comes, here she comes…. Bite!

I put a collection of photos up on Facebook:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=40771&l=afab0&id=809418097

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=40258&l=6d15c&id=809418097

First, my hopeful prediction on February 3 that we might be nearing the end of winter weather turned out to be grimly mistaken. In the several days leading up to 2/11, we had warnings that a severe winter storm was afoot. Nevertheless, the morning of that day wasn’t too bad. I started to see snow and a bit of sleet coming down on the way home for lunch. Still, I was somewhat surprised to be caught at home after lunch, when I learned that 3ABN was closing due to badly deteriorating road conditions.

Sleet and freezing rain fell all afternoon and into the night. On top of a couple inches of snow, we had a 1/4 to 1/2 inch layer of ice. The ice covered my wireless internet antenna, knocking out my internet access, which left me without a convenient source of news and information for the next several days. (Not to mention no chatting with friends!)

I remained stuck at home Tuesday morning. The mound of snow on the windshield of my Jeep was encased in a hard shell of ice, and presented quite a challenge when I tried to clear it off. I tried to get to work, but Hernando and I couldn’t get the Jeep unstuck. We finally managed to back it out of the space where it was parked, but then it became caught in a thick mixture of slush and mud. We worked for maybe 30 minutes or more, and with the aid of a snow shovel loaned to us by the Troys, we were finally able to free it. But by then Hernando had given up on going to work. It was nearly lunchtime, so I decided to just wait and try again after lunch. I did make it in to 3ABN in the afternoon. Only about half the employees were there. Greg and Jill were running the Call Center by themselves.

Ice storm nature pics:

Carving out the snow under the ice on my Jeep’s hood and windshield:

With cold temperatures, the snow lasted nearly a week. On Friday, 2/15, I got stuck in the slush twice: once at the T’ville post office, and once on the road that connects Main Street to the curve on 149; but was able to get myself out in both cases. The snow was mostly melted by the next Monday, 2/18, but there were still mounds of snow where it was plowed.

As explained in previous posts, the last week of January I had been taped for the 3ABN Today “Behind the Scenes” program, to air on Valentine’s Day, February 14. I was on the set with Jim Gilley, Mollie Steenson, and John Lomacang. My topic was the viewer survey we were preparing to release. Mollie was talking about camp meeting, and John about a series, “Where Are All His Miracles?”, soon to be taped at the Thompsonville church. But 3ABN overbooked its guests, and Lonnie Melashenko took that date on a live program instead. Because my taping included topics that were dated, the producers decided to reshoot it. We were scheduled to do it again on February 21.

However, on February 21, another ice storm rolled in, and the taping was canceled. Kenton, Adam, and I worked until about 4:00, or a little later, and then went home. It was sleeting, and we knew the roads would soon turn slick. By this time I had developed a good technique for removing ice from my vehicle’s windshields, but it was starting to get a bit tedious. We all came in a little late on Friday morning, and found again that many employees were missing. But the main roads were not too bad this time.

A really short video of the February 21 storm:

This storm knocked out my internet connection again, but this time I had two things going for me: I had learned how to connect via by cell phone (sloooooow … 14.4 kbps). And, lastly, after one cold, tiring, and unproductive experiment, I found a fast way to de-ice my antenna. (I knew that water cannon was good for something.) But, for next time, I think I’m going to invest in the aerosol de-icing spray.

Saturday was warm enough to melt off some of the ice and snow, but we got a couple inches more Sunday morning, which began melting later that day. As of Monday, 2/25, most of it had melted, but a little still lingers.

Apparently my “Behind the Scenes” segment will still be taped, but I have not been told the new taping date yet. I know some of you may be tired of hearing about it already, but it’s my first significant appearance, so I guess I’m just excited. (I’m not sure if I should be; I’m not the TV type.)

Although most of the snow melted yesterday when the temperature rose into the 40s or 50s, there’s still a little bit of snow on the ground, in the grass and in the shadows. Judging from the extended forecast I’m looking at now, it may be the last we will see this year.

At the peak of the storm, all of the 3ABN employees were asked to come downstairs into the safer part of the building. It was a nice break, and we got to chat a bit. However, it was not really a severe storm, compared to others we’ve had.

A section of one of the streets:

Here is a video I took on Claus’s camera:

The music for this video was taken from this website. Ordinarily I would not think of the “1812 Overture” as Christmas music, and I almost chose another song. But in the end I thought the soundtrack matched the exuberant display perfectly. If I had more footage, I could have done something to synchronize with the music (especially the cannons!), but this was a quick and dirty job.

My own state, Illinois, apparently has a GDP comparable to Mexico.

The page also contains a number of spin-off maps, including one comparing life expectancies of states to those of other countries. Hmmm. Illnois is comparable to … Kuwait.

James, visiting from Australia, and my housemate Hernando:

Having fun with Erin:

Me at Devil’s Smokestack:

This looked more impressive in real life:

A view of the interesting rock textures:

Jason and Erin found a couple of these lizards:

Our group — above: Hernando, Olen, Jason, James; below: Michelle, Kalie, Daniel, Klara, Erin, Eva:

Our water tower, gas station and convenience store (we have only one), and police department:

Thompsonville city limits:

I guess two pictures say only so much. I may post more later. But, amazingly enough, on the edge of this little country town is one of the largest Christian broadcasting networks in the world, where I work. (Frustratingly, even with all the T1 lines coming into my company, we still can’t get DSL internet in Thompsonville.)