It’s that time of year again when we dust off the grainy photos of the 1970 F5 tornado to remind ourselves that the sky actively hates us. While we honor the 26 people who lost their lives, we also have to appreciate the peak West Texas survival “plan” of the era. Survivor Larry Aguallo recalled his dad flipping over a couch and hoping for the best because the hail was too big to run to the neighbor’s cellar. Nothing says “Lubbock Strong” quite like trusting your life to a 1960s polyester sofa while a multiple-vortex monster deletes your zip code.
Fast forward 56 years, and the City of Lubbock is very proud to announce that they have “evolved.” In a staggering display of administrative hustle, the Emergency Management office has ballooned to a massive team of five whole people. That’s right—five humans are currently responsible for the disaster safety of over 260,000 residents. We can only assume their daily routine involves a lot of caffeine and a collective prayer that the wind doesn’t blow too hard from the north.
The city also wants you to know they have drones now. In 1970, you had to wait for the street signs to vanish to know you were in trouble; now, the city can provide high-definition, 4K footage of your roof being relocated to Slaton in real-time. Meteorologists have also upgraded from “reading a piece of paper” to using “graphics,” which is great because if I’m going to be leveled by a windstorm, I at least want the radar map on my phone to look aesthetically pleasing while it happens.
Emergency Director Joe Moudy says they are “constantly adapting” by studying how sirens worked during the Maui fires and the Palisade fires. It’s an interesting strategy—looking at how tropical islands and mountain forests handle fire to prepare for how a flat-as-a-pancake desert handles a funnel cloud. But hey, at least we aren’t just flipping over furniture anymore. Probably.
It’s comforting to know that after half a century of progress, the city’s best advice is still basically “have a plan,” which is government-speak for “you’re on your own, so maybe check if your couch is still flip-able.”
Sources:
