We were just cruising back into town after a relaxing overnight in the mountains when a song came on the truck radio that put my memory into motion.  The tune was Brad Paisley’s “If I Could Write a Letter to Me.”

 

Perhaps it was the dark, rainy weather. Perhaps it was the Pennsylvania Avenue neighborhood through which we were riding at the time. Whatever the case, inspired by Paisley’s nostalgia and drifting back to my own Bridgeport childhood, it was the tornado of 1970 that came to mind.

 

I was just shy of turning 10 years old and lived on Third Street. The neighborhoods in the Main Street vicinity were the heart of town then, with everything you could possibly need within walking distance. On summer break from Simpson Elementary School, I spent my leisure time playing with neighborhood friends, swimming at Bridgeport Pool and spending my allowance at cool places like The Handy Shop or J. Eddie’s.

 

I didn’t have a worry in the world and as I fell asleep on Aug. 22 of 1970, the last thing on my mind was the possibility of a tornado. But as I woke up later that night, everyone was bustling about the whirlwinds that had stormed through our city. My parents remember how still everything was just before it hit and the screams afterwards. 

 

The next day, my mom, dad, sister and I – like hundreds of other folks around town – went walking block to block to assess the damage. Our house and others on our street were unharmed, but just blocks away, there was devastation – like something out of a movie. To a 9-year-old, the one which came to mind, of course, was “The Wizard of Oz.” Some homes were blown to shreds. Pieces of roofing and walls spilled out onto the streets.  Windows were shattered to pieces. How sad for all those people, we said. We were so fortunate our house was untouched.  

 

As we walked past my school, we saw that Simpson Creek Baptist Church had taken quite a blow. We couldn’t believe the steeple was gone! It was like the church had exploded from the inside out. Trees and power lines were down. It all definitely left an impact.

 

But as Bridgeport does, people pitched in and helped each other. I remember neighbors and friends coming to the rescue, helping with clean-up efforts. That part is a good memory and one which helped me learn the importance of community and compassion.

 

If I could write a letter to me on that day, I could tell myself that Simpson Creek Baptist Church would be beautifully restored and 10 short years later, I would be married there. I could say that in the part of town where my family and I walked in total disbelief that day, I would someday build a house and raise my children, who would all attend Simpson Elementary. I could write about all those cool little shops one day being gone and how the residential areas would expand into places I would have never dreamed of. And I could certainly add that the first real natural disaster in my memory would plant a seed of real appreciation for my hometown and the people who live here. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Julie Perine can be reached at 304-848-7200, julie@connect-bridgeport.com or follow @JuliePerine on Twitter! 

 

More "It's Happening" HERE. 

 

Editor's note: Courtesy of Dick Duez, the cover photo shows a home on the corner of Lawman Avenue and Cherry Street. The pictures above are from our family photo album and were captured by my mom Shirley Hadorn. We believe the bottom two photos were taken at the corner of Pennsylvania Avenue and Smith Street and the top photo possibly on Duncan Avenue.