A Storm with No Name

This evening, in parts of Indiana and Kentucky, at least twenty-two people are feared dead after a tornado, which left a trail of damage three quarters of a mile wide and twenty miles long late Sunday night, tore portions of both states.

This kind of event, events where innocents lose their lives, always raises the same questions, questions of providence that need not be repeated here. But in special circumstances of a tornado, I cannot help but ask if the problem is more acute.

When thousands of Allied soldiers stormed the beaches of Normandy in June 1944, those who died gave their lives on a day that will not be soon forgotten, a day with its own name, and with its own monuments. It was the kind of day that causes those who lived through it to remember exactly what they were doing when the tide was turned.

When the World Trade Center came down, those who were lost became martyrs, almost overnight. The few blocks of Manhattan on which the Twin Towers were built will always be considered hallowed ground.

When the levees broke in New Orleans, those who perished did so with the eyes of the entire nation trained on them. Their deaths alerted us to the weaknesses of our own systems in coping with natural disaster. The storm which flooded the city had a name. And as such, it will remain lodged in the annals of our history.

But when a tornado touches down, it comes without warning, takes property and lives, and then vanishes. Outside of a limited geographical area, no one will mark time by this tornado. No one will remember what they were doing that Sunday evening. D-Day, 9/11, and Katrina have earned a place in the national consciousness, while this tornado will soon be forgotten. Because the storm has no name, it also has no official significance.

Perhaps naming tornadoes, even after the fact if there has been significant property damage or any loss of life, would go a long way towards recognizing that those who perish in these storms do not go unnoticed by the movers, shakers, and newsmakers in places like New York, Washington, and Los Angeles. These random events cannot be consigned to the official status of "non-events;" rather, they should be accorded the same significance as those events by which a nation marks its collective time.

What do you think?