My uncle Wes is an interesting character. Wes and I share a lot in common. We're both extremely introverted, intelligent, God-fearing people who would love nothing more than to be left alone in the wilderness with our guns and fun. Wes wasn't much of a trouble-maker. He was a huge nerd growing up, and if he wasn't obsessed with science and building cool stuff, he was working alongside Wade on the farm. As of now, Wes is a computer engineer, and has several other degrees including a degree in architecture. He used his architecture degree to design a custom home, which he built 17 years ago and is still adding onto this day. Wes is a huge perfectionist and clean-freak. I wouldn't call him OCD, but he wants things to be as modern, clean, and comfortable as possible.
Wes designed his house with a steel frame and steel siding, and built into the side of a hill. There's two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs, as well as the kitchen, den, and dining room, and a master bedroom in the basement, near an unfinished living room with a walkout sliding door. The living room will eventually have a back wall, and behind that wall there will be more rooms, but as of now, there's just a large, dark empty space behind the framework. His entire property is surrounded by strategically planted trees which help to block wind, snow, and provide some peace and privacy. There's a back pasture that Wes's woods and house open up to, and my grandma's farm can be seen just across the pasture. It's very comfortable and peaceful, and is my favorite place on the family property.
Wes has had a handful of near-death experiences, but nothing that really made him into the guy he is today. Before one fateful afternoon, Wes "didn't have time for God." He didn't think God existed, and would sleep in on Sundays and never bowed his head in prayer. He was (and still is) the pessimist in the family, and even today, he's super skeptical of everything, often overly protective, and quick to anger (unless you're his kids, and in that case, he's got the patience of a saint). While he's definitely a Christian today, he was definitely more of an atheist when he was a teenager and young adult.
Somewhere between 1990 and 1992, my dad was teenager and Wes was just getting into adulthood. Wes and my dad still lived with my grandparents on the farm. On this day, my dad was at a friend's house in Hammond, Minnesota; about 20 miles southwest of the farm. Wes was on his way home from work, and my grandparents were at the farm with my oldest cousin, Colton, who was no more than 4 years old at the time.
My dad's friend's mom was super overprotective of her kids. She didn't let my dad's friend go out without a strict curfew, and she needed to know the parents of her son's friends. So, when the sky turned an ominous green and the wind began to howl, she freaked out and forced my dad and his friend to turn off the Nintendo and join her and the rest of the family in the basement. The power went out as soon as they settled on the couch downstairs, and the crappy battery-powered radio the mom brought down only got bits and pieces of what was going on. For the most part, it sounded like the storm was gonna miss them just to the north. My dad relaxed until he realized what that meant; his house was gonna get the worst of it.
Meanwhile, my uncle Wes was on his way home from work. He was convinced he was gonna die. There wasn't any rain, but the wind was blowing dust high into the air. Wes couldn't see through the dust, and the wind blew his truck into the ditch twice as he desperately raced home. Somehow, Wes did make it home, but he was faced with a new challenge. He pulled up as close to the house as he could, and jumped out without a second thought. The winds were probably blowing about 80 miles an hour, as they nearly ripped the driver's side door off its hinges when Wes pushed it open. Wes had to cling to the railings on his way to the front storm door, which was the only thing between him and the house, and slowly pull himself forward. This time, the door was ripped off the hinges when Wes opened it, and he had to throw himself inside. Wes said he had to hug the door frame on the way in, because otherwise he would've been sucked back outside.
Wes tripped on his own feet, but quickly sprang back up and began to run around the first floor of the house in search of his family.
(Before I continue, I'll explain the important layout of the first floor. Wes entered through the front door, and once you get inside, the kitchen is immediately to your right, and straight ahead of the front door is a long hallway that goes the length of the house, and at the end of this hallway is a back storm door leading out to the clothesline. In that long hallway, there's a garage door to the left, and to the right is the washer and dryer. If you walk about 5 feet further, there's a small closet-type space to the right. There's a single step going down into this closet space, and then a door leading into the basement. Grandma didn't keep many shelves in the hallway or the closet space, but she did keep a shelf for shoes and a few coat hangers, and also kept a shelf with motocross helmets and boots in the closet space.) Anyways...
Wes didn't find anyone, but heard a faint whimpering coming from the closet space in the hallway, and rushed over to investigate. My grandparents were huddled together with Colton between them. Grandma was visibly shocked to see that Wes there. She assumed he either took shelter elsewhere or was laying down in a ditch. Wes explained to her that they needed to go to the basement, because something huge was coming. Grandma protested, saying that grandpa couldn't go downstairs, which is true. Grandpa needed someone to basically carry him down there, and grandma wasn't strong enough to do that. Wes was however, and helped grandpa to his feet by getting under his shoulder. Grandma picked up little Colton and rushed down the basement stairs, while Wes helped grandpa downstairs. Grandpa still had some use of his legs back then, but he didn't have balance, so Wes had to keep his balance for him. Just as they reached the basement floor, there was dramatic pressure change followed by a horrendous roar. Wes said his ears hurt from popping so violently, and the sounds of glass breaking and things being thrown around didn't help. Grandma huddled against Wes and grandpa with Colton in her arms, and all they could do was stand there until the storm stopped.
At some point, my grandparents began to pray aloud, while Wes just stood in absolute terror as they heard their farm being ripped apart just above their heads. Wes suddenly remembered the bible story where Jesus commanded the storm to end, and it did. He suddenly found himself silently praying, and very quickly the storm subsided. Wes waited until he was completely sure the storm was over, before leaving my grandparents and Colton downstairs to investigate the damage. It wasn't as bad as it sounded. Both storm doors were gone, all the shelves in the hallway were knocked over and stuff was strewn about on the floor. There was glass and gravel all over the floor, and the windows on the western side of the house were blown out (thankfully, there's only two of them, so there wasn't too much damage). Wes cautiously peeked around the door frame of the front door, which faces east. Several large trees and branches were downed, especially by where the barn was. The barn was nothing but a pile of wood, and a lot of the pasture fence in the tornado's path was ripped out of the ground. Wes's truck was tipped over and severely damaged, and the roof of the granary was partially torn off. Wes gazed towards the east, and saw a dying funnel cloud over the eastern field. He quickly realized just how lucky he was. If he had argued about going to the basement for another minute, they would've been injured by the storm, and if he didn't have such a firm hold on the railings or the door frame while he was trying to get inside, he would've been literally blown away, and only God knows what would've happened to him then.
Years later, much of the barn is still in an old junk pile in the pasture, and the concrete foundation of the barn is still in the ground. Less than 20 years ago, my uncle Wade planted some new trees were the old trees once were, and repaired a few lean-to's that were built to replace the barn. About 5 years ago, some of the new trees died, so Wade replaced them with pines. A couple of the metal cattle gates that are still used today, were in the tornado, and one of them was bent backwards a bit.
The damaged fence you see was pushed out by an angry bull a few years ago, and the fence leaning over in the pasture has been used as a scratching post by all of the cattle.
