
From grade-school age, we were inundated with information about safety and subjected to so many drills that many can ramble off something like "go to an inner room on the lowest level away from windows in a bathtub under a mattress" without a second thought. Even as an adult, it's not uncommon to hear a heated debate about ditch vs. underpass survivability or theories about Lincoln being impervious to tornadoes due to its location in a valley.
Some experienced inhabitants of tornado valley claim a greenish color, a drop in barometric pressure, a smell on the breeze or just that feeling in their bones that alerts them to a storm system's tornadic potential. But this amazing sixth or even seventh sense isn't what I love most about Nebraskans...
From as far back as I can remember, I have loved severe weather and have many fond memories of our family gathered around the TV, watching live Doppler and then running out onto the porch amidst sirens blaring to scan the horizon for funnel clouds. Despite the freakish amount of safety and scientific knowledge we all possess, the Husker in our blood calls us outside to witness the storm in all her glory; a phenomenon that I have witnessed in native Oklahomans and Missourians as well. This blatant disregard for safety in hopes of claiming bragging rights and experiencing a Midwest right of passage is just one reason why I love Nebraskans so dearly.
I wish you a safe weather alert day!