FELICITY -- It tore them apart one night, but has united them ever since.
The year following the July 2, 1997, tornado that ravaged this rural Clermont County village, killing nearly 100 livestock and causing millions in damage to homes and property, has brought mixed results.
Some of the community's 1,330 residents quickly moved, but most rebuilt. Now, they watch ominous skies and rush to monitor storm warnings on their radios. They are ready to flee but determined to stay.
The reminders of life's fragility still resonate from the tornado that struck a year ago today.
"A guy at work told me, "God could have crushed you right in that house,' " said Greg Seibert, whose two-story home off Bolender Road was reduced to a mountain of debris. "Maybe that's just his opinion, but maybe it's the truth."
Despite the destruction of 26 homes -- many at the Country View Mobile Home Park -- there were only minor injuries. Seven farm buildings were damaged or destroyed.
"It was one of those nights you'll never forget," Angela White, 28, said as her daughters, Kristie, 7; Elizabeth, 6; and Amanda, 5, played nearby. "A good portion (of Country View lots) opened up, and it's just starting to fill up again. It's good to see."
At the entrance, a sign heralds "one month free" to newcomers. Gov. George Voinovich issued a disaster declaration for Clermont County, but the damage did not meet Federal Emergency Management Agency criteria, so federal help to individuals was limited largely to a disaster program through the Small Business Administration. The SBA issued loans totaling $2.6 million to 85 residents, said Herb Mitchell, the agency's deputy associate administrator in Washington, D.C.
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Neglecting siren system mistake
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HOW IT WORKS
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Clermont County Emergency Services monitors information from the National Weather Service. If appropriate, someone hits a single button that activates every warning siren in the county.
The siren system is tested at noon on the first Wednesday of each month, but it is up to local communities to notify emergency services if a siren does not go off. |
Numerous state and county agencies also assisted, including the Red Cross and Clermont County Family and Children First.
But assistance was not strictly financial, many residents are quick to point out.
Richard Lanning, 42, whose mobile home in the Country View neighborhood off Ohio 133 had only about $300 in damage, would still like to find -- and thank -- a Clermont County sheriff's deputy whose name he never got.
Mr. Lanning was returning from his job at a Reading processing plant the night of the tornado when he was stopped. The deputy, aware that many main roads were strewn with tree limbs and potentially dangerous wires, pulled out a map and showed Mr. Lanning alternate routes home.
"I always wanted to thank him," Mr. Lanning said, sifting through memories as he made fresh coffee.
He didn't realize what devastation awaited that night -- until he got closer to Felicity.
The tornado, rated a medium-sized F-3 with winds of 150-175 mph, cut a swath from Moscow to Felicity. It obliterated some Country View homes, while others like Mr. Lanning's had only "cosmetic" damage.
Up the road, Bud and Betty Dean's trailer was leveled. The refrigerator wound up leaning against a tub -- in what was left of their neighbor's trailer. Next door on the other side, however, Robert and Tracy Collins' place sustained only $400 in damage. They credited extra-strong mobile home tie-down cables that exceed industry requirements. Neighbors were stunned by the difference a few yards can make. "Our faith got restored," said Mr. Collins, 29.
At Mr. Lanning's mobile home, the blue barbecue grill shaped like a football helmet was still standing, undisturbed amid the chaos. A few homes away, Kathy Ritchie's shed simply disappeared. Electricity for many Country View residents was out for four weeks, water service for nearly that long.
Nearby, on Bolender Road, Mr. Seibert, his wife and four children huddled in an upstairs bathroom, emerging to find some of the second story of their home gone. There is still debris scattered through parts of their 75-acre farm.
A year later, Mr. Seibert, 42, said there is still much to do. Behind him, a shredded corner of his former home still sits in the front yard, a haunting reminder. Behind it, their new home rises, light blue with white trim. The interior, however, is still a dusty construction site. The Seiberts have been living in a trailer in their front yard for a year now.
"I hate this thing," Mr. Seibert's 17-year-old son, Kyle, said as he kicked caked mud from his boots.
Back at Country View, Mr. Dean, whose damages totaled about $20,000, sat in his new mobile home -- on the spot of the old one -- and put the tornado into perspective.
"She saved my life," he said of his wife, Betty, who rushed home to get him, then outraced the storm in their car. "I tell her that all the time. . . . Luck is a part of life."
For Mr. Dean, who secured an SBA loan, life is back to normal. Others, including Mr. Seibert, remain buried under a blizzard of paperwork.
"I had no idea what I was in for," he said, fighting back tears but eventually giving in. He had just finished surveying his property with an insurance adjuster, who dutifully wrote in a notebook while Mr. Seibert pointed this way and that.
Mr. Seibert, an engineer at Cincinnati Milacron in Batavia and a farmer, lost 85 pigs in the tornado. While he represents the worst of the tornado's aftermath, he also represents its best. "When we're done here, I'm going to help others hit by disasters," he said, wiping tears as he recalled the profound effect that news of flooding and tornadoes elsewhere has on him.
Marge Hedrick, 61, whose home had $2,200 in damage, decided to stay at Country View. Two weeks before the tornado struck, she moved into the mobile home park from Union Street in New Richmond, where her home was destroyed in the flood of '97.
"Nope," she said through the window screen of her home recently. "I'm staying." She stopped herself and pointed to her friend, Ms. Ritchie, 49, who was making the walk down to Marge's place.
"There's someone who helped a lot of people," Ms. Hedrick pointed out. "You should talk to her."
"We were strangers, a lot of us," Ms. Ritchie said. "Now we're family."
