Leah’s Reporter’s Notebook #3: Tennessee Tornadoes

The Nashville skyline amid tornado warnings. Photo Credit: Leah Donnella

By Leah Donnella

Like so many well intentioned journalists before me, I am a lover of lists. Nothing helps me feel more in control than staring down at a fresh, thoughtful, thorough to-do list. Looking at the day this way, broken up into tasks and accomplishments, feels like looking at a version of my ideal self – a future me that will go to bed satisfied and content. (I have never in my life gone to bed feeling satisfied and content.)

This tendency went into overdrive when I arrived in Tennessee to start reporting. There was so much to do – so many people to talk to. I had to be organized. Every day needed to be fruitful. Efficient. Precise.

And every day, something went wrong. My equipment would start buzzing. A source would reschedule. There would be no parking. I would forget to hit record. I would forget to restock batteries. I would forget that when you hand your recorder to a 6-year-old, you run the risk that eight hours of audio will get deleted. I would forget that sometimes, when you’ve listened to someone a decade younger than you describing in intimate detail how she fled gang violence in her home country only to experience domestic violence in the U.S., you will have to spend the next two hours sitting on the curb in a grocery store parking lot, intermittently crying and staring up at the sky, regardless of what came next on the “to-do” list.

As they say, when man plans, G-d laughs. 

And yet, I continued to plan. By my last couple weeks in Memphis, I had learned to schedule in longer buffers and grace periods. My days were occupied, but not frantic. I always scheduled “unscheduled time.” There I was, feeling like I’d hacked the system. Add “decompress” and “lunch” to your to-do list, and you’ll never miss a deadline again! Hahahahaha.

On my second to last night in Tennessee, I went to Tiger and Peacock. It’s a vibey, overpriced cocktail bar on the top floor of the The Memphian hotel. Floor-to-ceiling windows behind the bar give you a panoramic view of the city. So I watched, first with excitement, then creeping panic, as lightning struck and dark clouds swept over the city. It all seemed very distant in the beginning. Then, rain was hammering away at the windows. Then, the tornado warnings started lighting up my phone.

But, faith-blind and a little tipsy, I didn’t worry too much. This will all be over in the morning, I thought. Because I have stuff to do in the morning. I don’t have time for tornadoes.

Reader, it was not all over in the morning. I woke to the sound of rain still pommeling the side of the building. In a bit of a daze, I pulled up my to-do list. Get ambi from Beale Street! it said. Take photos around town! Find a live blues bar! Go back to the civil rights museum! Buy some souvenirs for the fam! Drive back to Nashville!

In reality, most of my last full day in Tennessee was spent sitting in a hotel room eating pizza and playing 2048. I did not squeeze in another interview. I didn’t try a new local restaurant. I didn’t see another sight. But I did get to watch as hail rained down over the city. And that, I hope, is one of the ways I will remember the city: encrusted in a strange, icy glitter, reflecting in the sunset, ruining my best laid plans. —LD