Word: tornadoes
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...anyone else. But what I have witnessed in the past week makes me feel somewhat sorry that I am even the small part of it that I am. I have seen my city, the fifth largest in the U.S., reduced by one-sixth its original size. Not by a tornado or flood, or any other act of nature or God, but because of people who somehow seemed to lose every bit of their sanity and proceeded to loot, burn and murder innocent citizens. Why? I don't know, maybe someone does, but all we who do not know...
...many skeletal structures the sole sign of life was a wailing burglar alarm. Lou's Men's Wear expired in a ball of flame. Meantime, a mob of 3,000 took up the torch on the East Side several miles away. The Weather Bureau's tornado watch offered brief hope of rain to damp the fires, but it never came...
...unable to fathom, was detoured from its customary west-to-east path across the U.S. and whooshed over Alaska and the Canadian Northwest, driving masses of refrigerated air down from the Arctic and over the East Coast. The jet stream's unusual northerly course also helped suck the tornado belt up from its more normal Kansas-Oklahoma-Missouri route, causing a disastrous twister in Chicago's suburbs. Meanwhile, the southern jet stream, after an exceptionally cold, wet run over California, dried out and warmed up so thoroughly as it crossed the Continental Divide that it left huge chunks...
...Belvidere. At Oak Lawn, a swirling funnel smashed a shopping center, ripped up a trailer park and slammed into a roller-skating rink filled with youngsters. It left at least 30 dead, several of them teen-agers with roller skates still strapped to their feet. At Belvidere, the tornado sliced through five subdivisions and a supermarket, severely damaged a hospital, nicked an auto plant, and then headed toward the local high school, where students were just finishing the day. "A girl fell and somebody said, 'Watch her get blown away,' " recalled Gordon Shook, 18. "Then everybody got blown...
...works that have pushed language over the precipice of its past-Joyce's Ulysses, the poetry of Mallarmé and Rilke. Painting, too, is language, but the modern practitioners are in total rebellion against the "verbal" or meaningful in art. Franz Kline's Chief is a tornado of paint, and nothing can be said about it that is "pertinent to the habits of linguistic sense." Contemporary music also flies from exterior meanings. Language today can deal only with the surfaces of experience. "The rest, and it is presumably the much larger part," says Steiner, "is silence. The space...