The Civil Defense siren--wakey wakey
Jan. 20th, 2006 12:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shalannaA few minutes ago, Hubby and I were lying abed holding our new digital camera manual between us and discussing what a particular instruction in it might actually mean. Just as I was about to click off the lamp and doze off, a strange noise started rattling the bedroom window. It sounded kind of like a truck rumbling down the alley, but when the siren faded with a change of frequency, I realized what it was.
"Why is the Civil Defense/Tornado Warning siren going off?"
He turned on the cable TV to see if it had those famous instructions it always says it'll have in emergencies while I went back to the other wing of the house to see whether Mama had heard it. She was standing in the doorway in her housecoat, about to come back and tell us what she'd heard. Then the dang thing started up again.
The reason we were mystified is, it wasn't the one at the fire station on the corner, the station just a couple of streets over from us. It was one farther away that was a little fainter.
I went to the front door (trailed by both of them by this time) and stepped out. It was definitely that siren. Up in the sky, nothing but the yellow moon, looking down like a benignly curious eye. Neither the Iraqis nor the Japanese appeared to be doing an air raid. And we haven't had any rain for months--there's a drought. The wind had even died down, a bit ominously, as it had been blowing hard all day.
Hubby said, "The cable TV is off. I mean, channel three is there, with the date and time and repair phone, but none of the other channels are. They're blank."
I went to the phone book and found the non-emergency police number. It rang and rang and RANG. I joked that the switchboard operator was getting calls from all over town. Hubby was fooling with the cable box to see if he could get any other channels.
We've been having wildfires running across Texas, even in areas pretty close to home, so that was a concern. Acres and acres have burned, including many neighborhoods in cattle country and the old cemetery where hubby's grandparents are buried in little Ranger, Texas. What if there were a wildfire jumping fields and heading towards us, and we were supposed to evacuate?
My mother, reading my mind, said, "It could be a chemical spill down at the railroad tracks."
I was seriously dreading having to load up the dog, the laptop, and the emergency rations and evacuate. At last someone answered the phone.
"I'm hearing the emergency sirens here on the west side of the expressway--"
"Yes, we have a malfunction. They're going off all over the city. We're working on it now."
"I'm relieved. I wasn't sure whether to duck and cover or what."
"It's fine. Nothing's wrong."
I hung up and reported the news. Everyone looked relieved and we headed back to our beds. Hubby called the cable company and got them to reset our bedroom cable box.
Of course, if I hadn't had my lucky locket on, it could well have turned out to be something. Another disaster averted by magical thinking!
[Seriously, though, that was weird. I suppose we had strong reactions because all during my childhood in the 1960s, we had civil defense drills in school. We would line up and march to the cafeteria and huddle under the tables, or we would get under our desks. Of course this would have afforded no protection in case of attacks (they were thinking of the Big Bomb back then.) The common wisdom was that what you were really doing amounted to "sit down, put your head between your knees, and kiss your a** goodbye."]
Hope they do get that fixed soon. . . .
"Why is the Civil Defense/Tornado Warning siren going off?"
He turned on the cable TV to see if it had those famous instructions it always says it'll have in emergencies while I went back to the other wing of the house to see whether Mama had heard it. She was standing in the doorway in her housecoat, about to come back and tell us what she'd heard. Then the dang thing started up again.
The reason we were mystified is, it wasn't the one at the fire station on the corner, the station just a couple of streets over from us. It was one farther away that was a little fainter.
I went to the front door (trailed by both of them by this time) and stepped out. It was definitely that siren. Up in the sky, nothing but the yellow moon, looking down like a benignly curious eye. Neither the Iraqis nor the Japanese appeared to be doing an air raid. And we haven't had any rain for months--there's a drought. The wind had even died down, a bit ominously, as it had been blowing hard all day.
Hubby said, "The cable TV is off. I mean, channel three is there, with the date and time and repair phone, but none of the other channels are. They're blank."
I went to the phone book and found the non-emergency police number. It rang and rang and RANG. I joked that the switchboard operator was getting calls from all over town. Hubby was fooling with the cable box to see if he could get any other channels.
We've been having wildfires running across Texas, even in areas pretty close to home, so that was a concern. Acres and acres have burned, including many neighborhoods in cattle country and the old cemetery where hubby's grandparents are buried in little Ranger, Texas. What if there were a wildfire jumping fields and heading towards us, and we were supposed to evacuate?
My mother, reading my mind, said, "It could be a chemical spill down at the railroad tracks."
I was seriously dreading having to load up the dog, the laptop, and the emergency rations and evacuate. At last someone answered the phone.
"I'm hearing the emergency sirens here on the west side of the expressway--"
"Yes, we have a malfunction. They're going off all over the city. We're working on it now."
"I'm relieved. I wasn't sure whether to duck and cover or what."
"It's fine. Nothing's wrong."
I hung up and reported the news. Everyone looked relieved and we headed back to our beds. Hubby called the cable company and got them to reset our bedroom cable box.
Of course, if I hadn't had my lucky locket on, it could well have turned out to be something. Another disaster averted by magical thinking!
[Seriously, though, that was weird. I suppose we had strong reactions because all during my childhood in the 1960s, we had civil defense drills in school. We would line up and march to the cafeteria and huddle under the tables, or we would get under our desks. Of course this would have afforded no protection in case of attacks (they were thinking of the Big Bomb back then.) The common wisdom was that what you were really doing amounted to "sit down, put your head between your knees, and kiss your a** goodbye."]
Hope they do get that fixed soon. . . .
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-20 06:19 am (UTC)Aaaah, being on the tail end of the baby boom and growing up with the cold war and constant fear of nuclear attack
In the 60s, we did "duck and cover" drills a la World War 2, later they became "earthquake drills"
Same thing you just mentioned.
Wakey, Wakey
Date: 2006-01-20 09:10 am (UTC)Then again, our National Insecurity System could have reacted too quickly to that rocket headed on its way to Pluto. Frankly, I'm against spending $1 billion to go visit Miekey Mouse's dog. Not, at least, until the folks at Disney explain why Goofy can talk and Pluto can't, even though they're both dogs. Now THERE'S a national secret!
On a similar subject, wouldn't it have made more sense for the government to spend that billion finding a cure for AIDS than financing a trip to Pluto? Nine and a half years just go get there, and we have to rely on Jupiter for its gravitational pull to get the piano-sized package to make it all the way? I don't even know if we'll have diplomatic relations with Jupiter by then.
Our Oklahoma City warning siren gets tested every Saturday at noon. Apparently it didn't go off the day the Murrah Building got blown up, though. Maybe we should start worrying during those periods of silence, eh?