I Love You, Tuscaloosa

An EF-4 tornado tore through our town the evening of April 27, 2011; Saturday marks its two year anniversary and as that date approaches, I want to reflect on the reasons why I am proud to call The City of Champions my home. There will be a new letter each day until we reach April 27th; I hope these words mean as much to you as they do to me.

Tuscaloosa,

I love you. I love your name, four sweet syllables rolling off the tongue like a heartbeat: tusk-ah-loo-sah. I love your warm snow-less winters, your stormy springs--pollen coated cars and all-- your impossibly hot and hazy summers--the air heavy with humidity and the smell of barbeque ribs smoking off in the distance.

I love your fall: the streets running crimson, neighbors and friends greeting one another with that Southern aloha: "Roll Tide." I love your tailgating, houndstooth, Denny Chimes, the Walk of Champions, the sound of the Patron Saint of Football on the speakers at Bryant-Denny: I ain't never been nothing but a winner.

Most of all, I love you-- this city, its people as a whole. This city with a heart so big that nothing and no one could ever contain it.

5:10pm, April 27, 2011: a tornado a mile-and-a-half wide--I remember those shots on the ABC 33/40 TowerCam, a tornado so wide it couldn't be real. I hid in the basement, just like James Spann implored us all to do.

Tornado.

Emergency.

Tuscaloosa, I loved you through those moments of fear, of doubt, of dread. I prayed for you and your people. I loved you during that nightmare, and my heart still aches thinking of that storm, of that loss, of that complete and utter devastation.

I didn't think it was possible, but I grew to love you more. The minute the clouds parted, you were there: neighbors helping neighbors, strangers offering comfort in confusion, open hearts, open arms, open kitchens.

Tuscaloosa, your kindness knows no bounds. I love you for that kindness, that selflessness. The days and weeks that followed that storm seem like a blur to me, but your crimson heart always shines through.

I think of those long days in the B101.7 studio, the phones ringing faster than I could answer them, and you, Tuscaloosa, reaching out to meet those needs the moment the call to action left my lips.

If I said someone needs to help an elderly lady clear debris from her roof, I had a response minutes later: a call from a group of Bama boys wanting to know her address--chainsaws gassed up and ready to go. I remember an elementary student collecting teddy bears and toys, a child reaching out to heal the hearts of his neighbors and friends. Churches gathering clothes, shoes, furniture and heading out to clear, to clean, to rebuild.

I remember volunteers, a stream of volunteers, lined up and ready to help at a moment's notice. They cleared debris. They shoveled dirt. They stitched up wounds, mended fences, mended hearts.

There were no strangers after the storm--just one family looking out for its own.  And food, so much food. Ask a Southerner for help, and you'll get it--and a casserole, too. People cooking meals for strangers: sweet tea, barbeque, sandwiches, cookies, all warm and ready for any tired and hungry neighbor, any friend. I remember Coach Gene Stallings himself grilling hotdogs and hamburgers for 15th Street volunteers.

Your kindness, your infinite kindness--too much for me or anyone else to measure. I love you for that kindness. I always will.

It was a time of immense tragedy but you came out from the rubble and polished off The Golden Rule; you made it so bright, so shiny it belongs in the Bryant Museum.

Tuscaloosa,  a city full of selfless, kind, caring people--a city full of champions.

I love you, Tuscaloosa. Roll Tide.