55 years ago today

April 2022--The date was April 21, 1967. It was nearing 5 p.m. and I was in the shower getting ready to make my Confirmation at St. Gerald’s Church in Oak Lawn.

Someone started banging on the bathroom door yelling for me to get out immediately. I threw on a robe, opened the door, was directed down the stairs to the main floor and pushed under the countertop in the bathroom. The next thing I knew I was crying out that I couldn’t breathe. My dad told me to stop screaming and start praying.

I blacked out and didn’t wake up until I was at Christ (Community) Hospital--totally unaware of what all had happened. I saw tons of people running all over the place and some even on roller skates. I was moved into a room where my mom was being cared for and there was a man in her room with a large piece of wood stuck in his shoulder. He was mumbling about it raining in his mouth. There were people crying in hallways and people shouting orders to others. There was a lot of blood on the floor. There were policemen and firemen up and down the corridors.

But I was still unaware of what all had happened. I was eventually reunited with my brothers and some of the others who were at our house for my Confirmation. We were kept in the hospital chapel until some family friends came to get us to take us to their house—because we no longer had a house.

It was 55 years ago today that an F4 tornado struck Oak Lawn killing 33 people, injuring and affecting thousands as it spanned 200 yards wide tormenting a 16-mile stretch. For the most part, my memories are still vivid, while other memories have started to fade.

Our all-brick home on 92nd Street a half block west of Cicero was completely gone-- but even without having a basement, all 11 of us in the house made it out alive.

All that was left of our two-story brick home on 92nd Street near Cicero Ave.

My mom had the worst of injuries as she was found under a dresser and other large items. She suffered several broken bones and many cuts that need suturing, while the rest of us had minor injuries—broken bones, cuts, bruising. Our house was directly across Cicero Avenue from the Oak Lawn Roller Rink—and it was later I learned the rink had been hit bad. Several young people died—and many were injured. Hence the reason for the roller skates at the hospital.

I recall being told later there were volunteers helping to pull us from the rubble and bring us to the house across the street—which escaped damage. One of the volunteers reported they had found 10 people and it then they realized I was the one missing. When I was found the volunteer said I didn’t make it (I was passed out and had a very faint pulse) and he was going to take me to the VFW hall that was set up as a temporary morgue. My mom insisted I be brought to the hospital. My youngest brother always said he was Superman--because still with a piece of the railing from the stairs in his hand--he was found at the McDonald's roughly a half block from our house. Not a scratch on him.

Our family was split up for months while my mom remained in the hospital. My maternal grandparents took me in for a while until my broken rib healed and then my dad, me and my brothers went to live with a family in Oak Lawn until we could get into a new home.

I was able to return to school—6th grade at Covington School—just before the school year ended and my teacher and classmates had a welcome back party for me. I recall some of the students who played in the school band playing “Hello, Dolly,” but changed the words to “Hello, Jodi” and “Jodi’ll never blow away again.”

The students and staff also collected money that my dad used to take me to E.J. Korvettes to get shoes and socks and other clothing items.

He had to. We had nothing but the clothes that were on our backs. No personal belongings either. No photographs, no toys, no furniture, nothing. Everything was gone—either destroyed by the tornado, strewn about the block, or ruined by the rain that followed.

I think back about how my brothers and I had to come home from school when there were warnings of threatening weather. And how we couldn’t go out if there was a pending storm. We all just had to hunker down in our basement. I was rather embarrassed but as I got older, I thought about all of this through my mom’s eyes. She was just 32 years old—and feeling the brunt of the storm and the worry of whether her family was ok—the other people in the house were ok. We were much younger and not nearly as anxious over the weather as she was. But as I got older, I understood.

The horrors of what we saw will never go away but we were blessed. The material items would eventually be replaced but we were 11 of the fortunate ones who survived. And 55 years later, my mom, my dad, my two brothers and I are all still here.

My mom said to me many, many years ago there was no other reason why we survived except that God puts us on this earth for a reason and obviously we didn’t get done what He needed us to do. “It wasn’t our time,” she would say.

It makes you look at life differently. And it makes you realize even more you need to take it….

Take it one day at a time.