We take photo after photo, intent on capturing the extent of the damage wrought upon our community by a tornado that chose Windsor as its rest stop. We want to remember as intensely as we’d like to forget. And somewhere in between those two desires is the reality of life here, from this point on.
But photos capture only images, expressions. They show us what’s gone, what’s ruined, what’s forever changed. They can’t show what I’ve seen here this past week, since the power went out around 11:47 a.m. on a day no one here will ever forget.
They can’t show you our spirit.
Nearly 19,000 people live in Windsor, a community that in recent years has been experiencing growing pains as it evolves from being a rural region to one that is home to industry and energy resources. I’ve felt exasperation at some of the choices my town has made as it struggles to decide what it wants to be. I have never held back on calling the shots as I see them.
But what I’ve seen since the tornado wreaked its havoc is like nothing I’ve ever been a part of. I am so proud to call Windsor home, and prouder still of the people who live next door, down the street, across town.
The tornado and its accompanying hail damaged more properties than I know. It stole the homes of hundreds of people, leaving them with little to nothing. It killed beloved pets as well as one war veteran who tried to outrun the funnel in what would be a valiant last stand. It has forever changed the lives of every citizen, some more than others. But unlike the homes and businesses, the historic buildings and century-old trees, it hasn’t torn us apart. If anything, this disaster has brought out the best in my little community.
I’ve driven down the “disaster area” streets several times. The devastation is mind-boggling. My body is sore from struggling against the monstrous winds as I collected my children from the storm. Mentally and physically, I’m exhausted. And I’m one of the luckier ones. I saw houses one couldn’t really describe as “standing” any longer. Overturned pickup trucks, demolished businesses. I would liken it to images I’ve seen of war zones.
Once I determined that my family was safe, and my home mostly unscathed, it was easy for me to be stoic, and to put on a brave face for family members far away and for those around me. But what finally broke my stoicism was the sight of a woman and her family, standing in what I assumed was once her kitchen. There were no outside walls, only the crumbled ruins of inner walls and rooms.
And as twilight fell upon the outskirts of this shattered town, this woman was rummaging through her cupboards, trying to salvage what little might be left inside. My heart just ached for her. Our immediate world had fallen apart in less than 15 minutes, but here was someone finding purpose in the simple act of finding . . . what? A frying pan, maybe? A colander? A bag of rice? It seemed completely absurd and totally logical at the same time.
Though I didn’t know her, for that instant, I loved this woman, just for doing the best she could for her family at a time when they most needed her to be strong.
With each passing day, Windsor gets a little cleaner. People smile a little easier — though I’m sure we will remain paranoid over every little storm for months to come. A drive down Garden Drive, Cornerstone Drive, or Highway 257 shows you what these people are made of as neighbors help neighbors, strangers help strangers, and everyone shares a common goal: to pick up the pieces of the past so that we can move forward.
Humor has begun to replace horror, as homeowners spray paint messages like “For Sale As Is” on the plywood that covers the gaping holes that once held windows. Others display spray-painted signs that read “Know Hope” and “Thank you, Windsor!” One by one, local businesses are reopening. What has remained consistent is the idea that everyone wants to help everyone else as we all struggle to regain our equilibrium. We’re in this together.
The professional and community response to this sudden emergency has been nothing short of phenomenal on every level. The volunteer emergency response teams from all over the region have dropped their own lives to help us get on with ours. The National Guard, Gov. Bill Ritter, Xcel Energy and others have reacted with impressive clarity of purpose and commitment.
An integral factor in this miracle of humanity was the Weld County Emergency Operations Center, set up through the sheriff’s office specifically to deal with this disaster. Immediately after the tornado hit, the state sent in personnel from Jefferson County to handle the emergency, including the public information office. Weld County Deputy Shane Scofield was assigned as the public information officer three days later, helping to keep the channels of communication open.
“What most impressed me was the speed with which the Weld County Sheriff’s department website reflected actual events on the ground as the emergency unfolded,” said Mary Shafer, volunteer weather coordinator for the Nockamixon Township Emergency Management Agency in Bucks County, Pa. Shafer, who has family in the Windsor area, said the sheriff’s site was the only way she could find out what was happening to them in the tornado’s aftermath. “They really got out in front of this thing before it could overwhelm a shocked citizenry. This is critically important at a time when most people are so freaked out they don’t know what to do.”
Mayor John Vazquez, who had all of five weeks’ experience under his belt when the tornado hit, had nothing but praise for the county’s response team. “The county has been . . . instrumental in securing the restrictive zone. The commissioners have been great. No requests have not been filled. All the important parts were there.”
In addition, Weld and Larimer counties each donated $1 million to the disaster relief fund. “It’s been a truly cooperative effort all the way around,” Vazquez said. “I can’t put into words the efforts I’ve seen the last couple days. It makes me proud to be a Windsorite.”
Scofield, in turn, was impressed with Vazquez. “After organizing news conferences and being out in the neighborhoods, I heard a lot of good things about the mayor,” he said. “You usually hear stuff like that when times are good, but when there’s an emergency and you still hear it, that’s a testament to his skills and who he is.”
Shortly after the tornado touched down, Manager of Recreation Tara Fotsch and a fellow employee left the rec building to respond to a call for help, having no idea what had happened. Some 30 minutes later, they returned to find Weld County Response already setting up a command center at their building. “It was incredible how organized” they were, Fotsch said.
Fotsch and her staff at the center worked from 8 a.m. Thursday until 1:30 a.m. Friday, and they’ve put in 13- to 14-hour days since. They weren’t alone in their dedication. “The rec department took over the volunteer resource center, and it’s staffed with six to 10 high school students. They’ve worked every day from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m. If we don’t need them for that, they ask what else they can do.”
Our police and fire departments have worked 2 4/7 to help Windsor remain safe in what has turned out to be a most vulnerable time. Loodles, a newly established coffee shop, provided free coffee for days. Our local 7-Eleven distributed milk, water, bread and other staples, free of charge. (And if you didn’t have them in hand as you walked out the door, the employees encouraged you to take some.)
Windsor will slowly rebuild. Our streets will no longer be lovingly cradled by the old trees that linked us to our past, but they will still take us from here to there. We will forever be reminded of an event we’d rather forget as we take those streets through town and say, “Remember when the old mill stood there?” or any number of similar remarks. We can never go back to the way we once were.
But if what I’ve seen happen here is any indication of the way we are now, we’re headed in the right direction.
Rebecca Valentine (mzwrite@frii.com) owns a writing and editorial service in Windsor, where she’s raising her four children.
