Caffeinated Politics

James and I spent the tornado warning early this evening in Target on University Avenue. It was the same store we spent a few hours in during the amazing 15-inch rainstorm in 2018. No, that was not a typo. Then we watched from the high windows as cars floated on University Avenue. Today I grabbed a cold brew cup from Starbucks and watched the show unfold. Though when we arrived, the weather warning was about an hour away.

As a weather junkie, this week has been a continuous hyper-energized series of massive storms and power punches from Mother Nature. While we had our car in parking ramps during the storms, one of which produced over two-inch hail in our immediate area, others had their cars pummeled as they sat in the open. So today, as another line of severe weather beckoned, every underground parking garage was packed.

But at that time, when people were seeking safety for their cars, a camaraderie in the downtown area was almost palpable. Though this is a very friendly city every day, there was something even more uplifting as people slowed down for traffic and let folks cut in line. People milled about and talked in the ramps while sharing radar images. I was so proud of people acting with a stronger sense of togetherness.

Weather alerts buzzed across phones, sirens sounded in the distance, and yet there was a shared understanding that everyone was facing the same threat together. People checked in on neighbors, texted friends, and kept an eye on the sky, knowing that tornado conditions could develop at any moment.

What struck me most was how one local business responded. Festival Foods had every parking space in their ramp and underground parking filled, including my convertible. There was the humane perspective that makes this grocery store not only a business, but a real part of our neighborhood. Even though it was clear that those drivers wouldn’t be stepping inside to shop, but keeping their cars parked for some time. It wasn’t about sales or foot traffic; it was about offering whatever safety they could. That speaks volumes for this business. In a moment defined by uncertainty, Madison felt like a community looking out for one another — not because anyone asked, but because it was simply the right thing to do.

The Target store where we found ourselves is the same one we were at during the 2018 torrential rain that left many memories on Dane County residents when 15 inches of rain fell in one continuous thunderstorm. Yes, as I think about this story, I can still hear my mom asking what is wrong with my son? Oh, for a dollar every time that question echoed off the walls of my Hancok home.

On Monday, August 22, 1018 at 7:30 P.M., I told my husband, James, we needed to “experience the storm” that was raging outside. Every time he has heard that phrase, I swear he ages a few years. After all, the weather doesn’t overly scare me.

Madison was having a serious, major downpour that had already been going on for hours.  I love the weather, but I never got the chance to be a meteorologist. So, I enjoy being in the center of the storms. James has wondered why we have a very fast car (shhh, he seems unaware of my plans for a storm-chaser run, but that is another post.)

So, on that very stormy and rainy night, we left the Madison isthmus. James thought I meant to have a drive in the rain. So he was a bit taken aback to learn we were going to drive into the storm on the west side. James would never have found the Pacific Ocean in the early 1800s. We had a great time looking at the water covering the lawns and roads. In many cases, the water was already inches deep. But it was not until I felt the lift of the car start on High Point Road that I had my first inkling that this might be too much adventure. After all, I am a landlubber. I looked ahead of me, and cars were floating! Yes, floating! That is when our Red Hot Chili Pepper (every car in this home is named) made a U-turn and bolted away.

But just as fast, my mind went to food and dinner. James was like-minded, and we ate at a Hilldale restaurant as our car was parked in the Target underground garage.  After dinner, we walked back, and when we were set to leave the ramp, there was no place to go! University Avenue was filled with floating cars in the direction of the UW-Hospital.  So we went back and parked again in the garage and shopped at Target.

Folks were milling about in the large store, several of them nurses from the Hospital.  All were looking at their electronic gadgets and seemingly not sure what to make of the large mass of heavy rain lingering over our area. It kept POURING from the skies. The store announced the place would not close at 11 PM but would remain open as a shelter.  So James and I headed to the book section (James bought a book about France in WWII, and John Grisham for me).  We were set for at least 400 pages.

It was fun, however, as others in the coffee shop area were joking and carefree.  Thankfully, no children were stranded and acting like, well, children. (I like children in manageable doses.) The manager even brought out some games from the store for people to play.  At some point, it looked like we could make it on the road, and so we left.

Not so fast, Bunky.

University Avenue was littered with inoperative cars and, at some point, impassable with water.  Some college-age guys–one with a very charming accent–told us how to take a turn and then some other directions to route us out of the area and get downtown.   After riding on streets I had never heard of, we somehow made it to Speedway and then home way after midnight.

So, the moral of this story is not to limit the exploration of wild weather. No, the moral of the story is always leave home with a book!

(I can hear my mother LOUDYLY sighing.)