There was a log cabin on the property that had been inhabited temporarily by Mormans on their way to Utah in the 1840s (some spent a devastating winter in Florence, Nebraska). (My mom said it was torn down in about the 1950s, after serving as a shed, not recognized for historical significance at that time). The area was called "Six Mile Grove" - there is a creek by that name that borders our farm. The old farm house that stands under an ancient oak tree, at the far edge of a field, on top of a hill with a view to the west. The guess is that it was built approximately 1860, but there are no surviving records, probably due to a courthouse fire long ago. It was most likely built using trees from the property, cut at the mill in town or by hand, with bricks made from local clay and limestone foundation stones from the local quarry. It's not a handsome house, but it has stood for over 160 years.
My Mom owns what is left of the original homestead; the family came across hard times after a failed investment (a grocery store) involving a shady lawyer. Family friends held the mortgage and offered it to her, she only in her mid-20s at the time, to keep it from being lost to our family. My mother, despite two failed marriages, raising two children, then two grandchildren, and very limited income, managed to pay off that mortgage and keep that farm debt-free for over 50 years. It is her wish that this remain in our family; "Century" farms, those that have been in one family for over 100 years, are somewhat uncommon. Unfortunately, the old house had already fallen into a state of disrepair, Mom just couldn't afford to fix it.
Why this background information? I suppose it is my way of establishing the impact of the events on March 22, 2011. Why this catastrophe has had a more profound effect than, perhaps, a place with less personal history.
Tuesday, March 11, 2011 was a lovely early spring kind of a day, but quite warm, almost 80 F. Too warm, because when a cold front moved through the area in the late afternoon, the weather changed for the worse. I'd seen a tornado watch on the internet and called Mom to make sure she knew. There are no sirens within hearing distance where she lives...eight miles outside of town. Shortly after 5 p.m., she and my niece Jamie, who'd been watching the news on TV, heard a tornado was heading in their direction. Barely 9 minutes later, and after running for shelter in the cellar near the house, the devastation began.
In minutes, our barn was knocked off its foundation and collapsed, half of the roof torn off the house, several broken windows, nearly every tree surrounding the house damaged or destroyed, except for the old oak tree which only lost a few branches. One old cedar tree, planted as part of a windbreak by my great-grandfather and my grandpa, fell on the back porch. A tree fell on my mom's beloved pop-up camper, crushing it. The tornado traveled past the house, in a southwesterly direction from what I understand, tearing and twisting, snapping and uprooting trees in its path. Huge trees, ancient several-hundred-year old oaks, walnuts, elms, cedar...dozens, maybe hundreds torn and broken across our wooded acres.
So we are left with the devastation of the wrath of a tornado. Heartbreakingly, my mother had no insurance on the property, because the insurance company dropped coverage a couple years ago due to the age and condition of the buildings (and also that Mom has a wood heating stove, which she always has, but apparently now that's become an issue of uninsurability). There's simply no money for repairs, clean-up, etc. Mom took out a loan that she can barely afford to make payments on, just to buy materials to repair the roof on the house. We've had some volunteer help, and a few small donations, but it isn't enough. Government assistance would force her to sell her home or part of the property, or place a lien in which the government would get it when she dies, which she refuses to do. This is her home and it is still a working farm, her business.
Can we, as a family, get through this? I can only hope so...my ancestors were pioneers, strong and brave to come to a wilderness to create a new life and enjoy freedom. I still feel so helpless, though, when my mother speaks of the nightmares of the storm that haunt her still, and knowing she and my niece lived through that terrible experience. There's so little I can do yet. My goal is to find some kind of assistance that will allow my mother to get back on her feet, and still keep her dignity. Considering what she has been through, it's the least she deserves.
