Greetings & Salutations

Some seven or eight years ago, I knew a couple of girls who lived in Madison Hall at ULM. To be clear, I still know both of them -- they just don't live in Madison anymore. I can't quite remember why it was decided that I should record the message on their answering machine using as many words as possible. After all, more than one memory has gone foggy in the years since leaving Monroe. However, the decision was made and the following is what you heard me say if you had the misfortune of calling when they weren't home.

"Greetings and salutations. You have reached the seasonal university dwelling of Alison Mae Rome and Nicole B. Kern. Because you have reached this automated communication-type answer device, it would be safe to deduce that they have vacated the premises to peruse social and/or academic endeavors... or are resting on their hind portions monitoring this transmission to determine the necessity of answering and or responding to it in a prompt fashion. Following this message, you shall hear an audible tone. Please speak with your given name, seven and or ten digit communications number and a one to two sentence phrase outlining the purposes of your call. After extensive review and contemplation, determination of whether to respond to your recorded message will be made. Thank you for dialing this number and have a better than average rest of the day."

Going through some old papers a few months ago, I found the notebook paper where I'd scribbled out my script. In the days before unlimited cell phone plans, it actually cost folks money to call long distance. I'm sure the phone company made a couple of dollars off the time it took to listen to me and leave "a one to two sentence phrase outlining the purposes of your call."

Thursday, Part I

Terri & I were at Dickey-Stephens Park Thursday night for the opening night of Arkansas Travelers baseball. It had rained earlier in the day and the forecast for later in the night was potentially ominous depending on who you listened to. However, I actually saw the sun peek through the clouds during the afternoon and we headed to the ballpark confident that we'd see a full nine innings of baseball.

Twice during the first seven innings, there were brief periods of rain -- mostly mist or sprinkles -- but they each tuckered out rather quickly. In the top of the seventh inning, we started to see lightning illuminate the clouds. I wondered what the threshold might be for the umpiring crew to halt play.

After the seventh inning stretch, Terri & I moved up to seats that were covered as the rain reappeared and became steady. In the bottom of the seventh, we watched as the flickers of lightening turned into defined bolts. With 10 players, three umpires, two coaches, a couple of guys on deck and who knows who else standing in an open field surrounding by tall metal poles... you'd think that bolt lightning would be reason to stop play. Nope.

The game played on into the top of the eighth amidst continued lightning. Midland loaded the bases on a pair of walks and a single and the game played on. It played on, that is, until Travs manager Bobby Magallanes called time-out to visit the mound. It was only then that the home plate umpire cleared the field and I'm still not certain that he didn't it because of the rain and not the lightning.

The time was shortly before 9:30. Terri & I had just watched the grounds crew pull out the tarp when my mom called. She said that the news was reporting possible tornadoes southwest of us and that the storm was supposed to hit North Little Rock at 9:41. Knowing our house was only two miles away, I weighed my choices in the span of about two seconds. Ten minutes was enough time to get home. Although our house isn't exactly a FEMA shelter, I thought it would be better than sitting in an open baseball park. As Terri & I reached the exit gates at the stadium, the tornado sirens dropped.

We made a mad sprint to my truck parked at Broadway & Orange, did a slalom through what little traffic we encountered on Main Street and were home in minutes. I threw The Cat in a cage, we turned on the TV for weather reports and cleared the junk out of the bottom of the hall closet. We were ready.

Fortunately for us, the crazy went south of us and north of us... but left Park Hill unscathed. I consider us blessed considering the North Little Rock airport three miles north of the house took a direct hit. Airplanes and hangars there were heavily damaged or destroyed and we don't even limbs on the ground at the house. Blessed, indeed.