|A rendering of Gusty (Credit: Mitch Randall)
(Credit: Mitch Randall)|

Having spent the majority of my life in Tornado Alley, the region nestled between the Northern and Southern Plains of the United States, I have had a front-row seat to the birth of supercell storms. This unique geographical location, where the frigid winds from the Rocky Mountains collide with the warm, humid gusts from the Gulf of Mexico, is a breeding ground for these powerful weather phenomena.

To stay weather-aware during my childhood, our family often spent our evenings watching the local meteorologist, Don Woods. At the end of his forecasts, Woods would draw a cartoon of his trusted sidekick, “Gusty,” whose actions would predict the weather for the next day. This quirky tradition not only informed us about the weather but also added a touch of familiarity to our daily routine.  

However, when we saw Gusty diving for his “frady hole,” we knew storms were on the horizon. Growing up in Oklahoma, spring storms with large hail and tornadoes were always present. I spent many evenings in the storm cellar or locked inside an interior room of our house.  

The storms of my childhood were always scary. Damage was extensive and there was an occasional loss of life, but nothing compared to what we are seeing today. Over the last two weeks, giant supercell storms have ravaged Oklahoma, Texas and other parts of the United States.  

Oklahoma has recently experienced an outbreak of tornadoes. Just this year, 95 confirmed tornadoes touched the Sooner State. The average for an entire year is 58.  

Last week, Texas was hit by a barrage of severe weather, with hurricane-strength winds (80mph) and relentless downpours wreaking havoc in Dallas and Houston. The aftermath was devastating, with significant damage and loss of life.

These are not isolated incidents. Scientists are warning that if we don’t take more aggressive action against climate change, storms like these could become the new normal.  

Last week, the National Weather Service forecasters at the Climate Prediction Center predicted “above-normal hurricane activity” this year. The threat of more intense hurricanes slamming into the southern United States has grown so worrisome that some scientists recommend adding a “Category 6” to the Saffir-Simpson Scale.  

Hurricanes with winds of 157 mph or higher are classified as Category 5. Scientists believe a new category is essential with the increase in maximum wind speeds of over 190 mph—as with Typhoon Haiyan in 2013. With wind speeds approaching 200mph, hurricanes would be the equivalent of an EF5 tornado.  

Just think about it. The widest tornado ever recorded was in El Reno, Oklahoma. On May 31, 2013, a 2.6-mile-wide tornado swept across the Southern Plains. On May 3, 1999, in Moore, Oklahoma, the strongest winds in a tornado were recorded at 318 mph.  

Now, imagine an EF5 tornado growing nearly 1,000 miles in diameter, as Hurricane Sandy did in 2012, tracking across the Atlantic Ocean and slamming into North America. That’s what we are talking about here.

This catastrophic scenario is a real possibility if global warming is not reduced.  

Meteorologists and climatologists are predicting another record-breaking summer in 2024. With the El Nino weather pattern shifting to an El Nina out in the Pacific, the summer of 2024 could be among “the hottest on record” in the United States. Just this week, Key West, Florida, set a record heat index of 114.4 degrees Fahrenheit.

With all the doomsday news about the weather due to global warming, I am reminded of the Prophet Isaiah’s words: “The earth is defiled by its people; they have disobeyed the laws, violated the statutes, and broken the everlasting covenant. Therefore, a curse consumes the earth, and its people must bear their guilt. Therefore earth’s inhabitants are burned up, and very few are left” (24:5-6).

Even though I am not a proponent of a literal hell, my mind might be changing if we cannot reverse the damage humans have contributed to climate change.  We can—and must— do better.

Until then, I may just join Gusty in his frady hole—at least it might be cooler there!