There are a few things in the deep south you don't mess with. OK. Make that lots of things including football, NASCAR, Republicans, and truck drivers who carry firearms. One thing on that list that I felt was pretty universal is tornadoes. No matter what your redneck status, we all bow before the tornado (when we are not getting out of our trailers to take some video to go along with the audio "It sounded like a freight train!")
Maybe Gadsden is not the tornado alley that Huntsville is, but Jamey lacks the proper respect. Take this morning.
Me: Do you hear that siren?
Jamey: Yes. Ruby get on your shoes. Let's go.
Me: Its a tornado warning
Jamey: So?
Me: For right here. Maybe you should wait a few minutes.
Jamey: Why?
Me: Why would you drive out now?
Jamey: Same reason I go to work every morning.
Me: An unfulfilled secret death wish that will leave you with no crying children and tons of sleep?
Jamey: Ruby, ask Mommy meteorologist if we can go now.
If my checking weather.com seems extreme to Jamey, he should have grown up in my family. My mother would have grabbed the baby from upstairs and rushed us all to the basement with a battery operated radio as soon as she heard the siren. In my mom's defense, our house in Huntsville got hit by a tornado 3 times in the time we lived there which seems to make tornadoes a statistic probability.
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