re’s an old southern saying that goes, "Don’t like the weather? Just hang around a few minutes. It’ll change."



Anyone who’s spent much time in Alabama can relate to that one. It’s not uncommon to wake up to a blue sky filled with brilliant sunshine and white puffy clouds, then go to bed that evening with the wind and rain beating against your window. Alabama weather is about as predictable as watching The Jerry Springer Show. You know something’s going to happen, you’re just not sure what it will be.



Given the unpredictability of Alabama weather, I sometimes wonder why television stations bother employing weathermen at all. Oh sure, they razzle-dazzle us with their color radars and storm trackers and incoherent weather-speak, and when the weather is popping we can count on them to keep us well-informed, but on an average day you could get just as accurate a forecast by calling the Psychic Hotline.



I’ve got an eighty-year-old aunt who predicts the weather with what she calls her "magic bunion." To be honest, the magic bunion is not as easy to look at as color radar (it’s actually pretty disgusting), but it’s usually right on the money when it comes to predicting rain or drought (it throbs when it’s going to rain and itches when it’s not). Okay, it’s not a perfect science,Jordan concords, but the magic bunion would never interrupt your favorite show just to tell you it’s raining in Tokyo, as many TV weathermen would.



Most television stations seem to think that,Jordan retro 11, when it comes to predicting the weather, a magic bunion just isn’t enough. They all have a meteorologist or two on staff, though they rarely speak of meteors, and enough weather gizmos and gadgets to make Mr. Wizard green with Doppler envy. Some stations have taken things to the next level by reporting the weather from outside of all places. It makes sense, I guess, since that’s where the majority of weather occurs. And it’s sure to cut down on the number of missed forecasts since all they have to do is look up. It’s hard to predict sunshine when rain is falling on your head.



While I make light of TV weathermen and their toys, I do take the weather very seriously. North Alabama is my home. It’s also the place my grampa often called, "the ass end of tornado alley." In modern weather-speak, that means that North Alabama is historically prone to weather patterns that could (and often do) spawn dangerous storms and tornadoes. Most North Alabamians have either lived through such a storm themselves or know someone who has.



Myself, included.



April 7, 1974: a night when dozens of tornadoes ripped through North Alabama, causing much damage and loss of life. I remember sitting on the back porch of my Limestone County home with my old man, watching a spindly tornado pass by just a few miles to the nor