Kansas Snapshots by Gloria Freeland - July 5, 2024

Nature's fury

Niece Gabriela, daughter Mariya, and I drove to Manhattan's city pool, looking for relief from the oppressively hot day, but found it closed. We were unaware storms were a possibility and officials had decided to be cautious. I stopped by husband Art's work to let him know we were heading home.

The pool-closing decision was a good one. The five-mile trip home was accompanied by boiling yellow-green clouds pierced by lightning bolts. I'd never seen anything like it. My concern was heightened by not being able to listen to weather reports as the car radio wasn't working.

That was 31 years ago - June 30, 1993. Mariya, 7, and Gabriela, 4, were oblivious to the potential danger, playing at "catching lightning" in their swimming towels and plastic drink cups.

Sister Gaila was at our home caring for her daughter Larisa, 9 months, and our Katie, 7 months. Art had let Gaila know we were on the way and to be attentive as there were tornado warnings. She recalled:

... They were both taking their naps. It was quiet for awhile, but then the sirens began. ... I prepared some bottles of milk and some snacks for the girls [to take to] the basement under the stairs. ... My biggest concern was how to wake them to take downstairs without their crying and being miserable. It was easier than I had anticipated. I picked up Larisa and carried her downstairs. Then I went back to get Katie. I stuck them toward the back of the space and gave them their bottles and snacks.

When I pulled into the garage, Gaila yanked open the basement door.

"Get inside! The weather man is saying to take cover now if you live in Keats."

I figured we were in real danger as I couldn't recall our little town ever identified on TV by name before.

I told the older girls to join the others. Then I popped in and out of our "safe space" to get blankets, a flashlight, a battery-operated radio, a bucket and toilet paper, and more snacks. Occasionally, I'd go upstairs to hear what the TV meteorologists were saying.

At Art's work, heavy rain brought water to curb level in just 10 minutes. At times it fell in sheets and at others in swirls. Impressive arcs formed when wind-whipped tree branches touched the electric lines across the street.

But our experience paled in comparison to our neighbors' two miles to the west. Stan and Betty Schurle were driving home from Kansas City when they encountered traffic backed up nine miles south of Manhattan at the junction of I-70 and K-177. Betty said:

... looking west, there was a formidable green sky. We went north, but cars were stopped along the top of the hill looking down into Manhattan. ...

Son Jeff, 24, had been working on the farm. Daughter Karen, almost 22, had just returned from her work at the Riley State Bank about 45 minutes before. They went downstairs and took cover under the basement steps.

About 7 p.m. the tornado came out of the trees west of the farm, heading for their home. Betty continued:

... After hearing on KMAN that a tornado had touched down 2 miles west of Keats ... we drove to Stan's parents' home ... It was here via someone's police radio that we learned our farm had been hit and "there is nothing left." We called 911 and the dispatcher assured us they would call back when they knew the status of Jeff and Karen.

The phone died, so we left and attempted to drive home. After numerous delays and blocked roads we were allowed through the roadblocks. It had been reported on KMAN that "Keats was chaos." We found that not to be true, so we were hopeful ...

As we crossed over the hill ... it was more than apparent that "a bomb" had been dropped on Schurleville, as it was known. ...

When we got to our property Jeff was in the one tractor that survived and he waved to us. Karen was in the house along with many others who were bucket brigading what was left out to trailers and pickups.

The roof had been pulled off and the north walls were blown out, but the children had escaped. Stan's brother Charles had weathered the storm in a truck in the barn - but the barn was now gone.

Most of the Schurle farm buildings were demolished, and other farms along the road owned by Stan's siblings suffered heavy damage. Farm implements were piled on top of each other. The silo top had been blown off, leaving chunks of cement scattered around the property. The 1967 Ford Fairlane Stan and Betty bought when they were married and had given to Karen when she was in high school was destroyed. "Devastation" was how the Manhattan Mercury described it.

But Stan and Betty were relieved. Betty said:

We were so grateful that our most precious belongings, our children, were alive and safe - ... All else sank into "now what do we do?"

Karen recently returned to Keats after years away pursuing a career in education. She said the family was so thankful to those who helped - salvaging what they could immediately after the tornado, cleaning up the debris, providing food, and assisting in the weeks, months, and years afterward with things such as storage.

When I think about that day ... I think about the provisions that God shares, even through the darkest days. ... I am in continuous awe of the gift of family and community who helped us during that time. ...

There's nothing like the Wildcat Valley, both in the beauty of the landscape and the people who live here. Generations of my family have called this place home and I am blessed to do the same.

Nature's fury is indeed formidable. But so is the resilience of the human spirit. As Dorothy said in "The Wizard of Oz": "There's no place like home."