Pat Donvito's writings Big Storm on Quesada Street
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Personal Pat Donvito Nick Ruggieri art Professional Resume Recent projects Education Teaching Course descriptions Systems engineering	Big Storm on Quesada Street Quesada Street is a pleasant place to live, except that a big tree might come crashing down on you. Like me, the neighborhood is at a mature age, as it is sometimes delicately put. The house we live in was built in l926, the same year that I was born. Neighborhood trees are fully grown. We live among towering oaks, giant silver maples, tulip poplars, high arching elms and other types of local shade trees and also some occasional conifers. Because of their age, like me they are not very steady on their feet. Sometimes, with the push of a wind, limbs crack off, or whole trees topple over. No one I ever heard of has been hurt yet by falling trees or limbs. Not even from that strong wind storm last summer. That storm will not be forgotten for a long time. Everyone on the block seems to remember just what they were doing when it hit. It was sudden, fierce and powerful. And what was strange was that the storm hardly affected any other part of the city. My story is that at the time, I was sitting on the front porch rocking in the wicker chair, dozing now and then in the warm sultry evening air, which in summer is one of my favorite late afternoon activities. I sensed a stir in the air and looked up at the sky. Toward the west it was very dark. I could see a storm approaching. It looked ominous. Much more so than usual summer storms. There were no clouds to see, just an enveloping, looming darkness. There was no thunder. Nor were there flashes of lightening coming closer. Then suddenly a roaring wind began raking the street. Nothing could be heard above the din. The wind struck like a gigantic heavy fist. It was that solid. In the blowing and roaring, I looked up at the high tree branches across the way. They were whipping and bending and twisting furiously. Then came a seeming wall of water. Wind driven heavy rains were cast downward and driven before the wind. I couldn’t see anything beyond the edge of the porch. Water started blowing onto the porch so I retreated back into the house. I went to the addition in back and to the large windows looking out onto the yard, which is a good place for watching weather. However, nothing could be seen through the heavy rain. Mary Lou and I decided we’d better check all the windows quickly to see that they were shut. So we ran from window to window to make sure that they were secure. As I peered out the windows, I would repeatedly, and pointlessly, shout out, “Golly, look at that.” The rain was being driven so hard that two of the windows were leaking rain even though tightly closed. Then there was a crash out back that could even be heard above the noise of the storm. Looking hard through the rain, we saw that the large fir tree by the side fence had come down. The fallen hulk spanned the yard from side to side, completely covering the tomato patch. As we began to make out forms through the rain, we could see that the giant oak in the next yard was still standing. That tree had been worrying me. We were downwind from it, which meant that if it came down it would land on our house. The oak was heavy enough to cause a lot of damage if it hit the addition. So we decided to retreat from the addition in the event that tree came down. Then just as suddenly as the storm arrived, it disappeared. The electric power had gone out early in the storm, and now we stood around in semi-darkness inside the quiet house. We looked out back at the fallen fir sprawled across our yard. Also we saw that the giant oak was still upright. What is strange is that one morning eight months later in the stillness of the early dawn, that giant oak came crashing down, smashing into the rear of the house on the other side of the yard. It withstood this storm and then simply fell over of its own weight when the spring rains softened the ground. With the fallen fir blocking our view, there wasn’t much we could see in back. We went to the front of the house and out to the street, and noticed our neighbors come walking carefully out of their houses to assess the damage. It seemed a miracle that none of the houses had been hit. Several automobiles that were parked on the street had trees fall on them. Our car was not hit. The stunned neighbors gathered in groups for mutual support. Everything was quiet. Cars could not move on the street. People wandered around aimlessly, just looking. Shattered trees were examined in awe of the storm’s strength. The hanging and draped electric wires were festooned with leaves and the small branches that were caught in them. Each new discovery was accompanied with head shaking. Then someone said that we would not be seeing our power on for quite some time, seeing how the wires were down. This in turn had the women wondering what would happen to the food in the refrigerators and freezers. After a little thought, it was agreed that the food would hold for some time if the refrigerator and freezer doors were kept shut. Perhaps a half a day. By then we could find out what to do next. Everyone seemed to relax a bit knowing that. True the stores were not too far away. But then again we would not have our cars for a while either, or any streets to drive on, and maybe even to walk on. What about the ice cream?-- someone asked. That was seen as an immediate problem. Ice cream won’t last long without freezers operating properly. What could we do about the ice cream? Just goes to show the time influence of problems. There were big problems all around us. But the ice cream problem, although far from critical, was immediate. Then some local genius came up with a solution. Let’s eat the ice cream. Looking back on it, it should have be obvious. But in the midst of catastrophe, it came on us like a brilliant light. We went back into our houses, stepping across and around the massive debris to get out the ice cream, along with spoons and dishes. Back out on the street we gathered in a big group. Some sat on the trunks of fallen trees. Some on the porch steps. And others on the street curbing. One alert housewife even brought out some chocolate syrup. Turned out, there was quite a bit of ice cream. We hadn’t realized that people stocked so much ice cream. We must have sat around for two hours leisurely and resourcefully filling ourselves. The street was not cleared and the electric power did come back on for ten days, and for that time our lives were changed. We walked to the stores up on Avenue for daily provisions. Our cars were either trapped on the street or parked away somewhere. No deliveries were made to our houses. It was so quiet without the traffic. Also there was no TV or radio. People mainly sat around talking. The daily newspapers could not be delivered. That made for a lot of free time. At dusk, through the darkness you could hear soft voices and laughing on the porches, as people sat together talking into the night. It was not all bad.

Pat Donvito's writings

Big Storm on Quesada Street

Quesada Street is a pleasant place to live, except that a big tree might come crashing down on you. Like me, the neighborhood is at a mature age, as it is sometimes delicately put. The house we live in was built in l926, the same year that I was born. Neighborhood trees are fully grown. We live among towering oaks, giant silver maples, tulip poplars, high arching elms and other types of local shade trees and also some occasional conifers. Because of their age, like me they are not very steady on their feet. Sometimes, with the push of a wind, limbs crack off, or whole trees topple over.

No one I ever heard of has been hurt yet by falling trees or limbs. Not even from that strong wind storm last summer. That storm will not be forgotten for a long time. Everyone on the block seems to remember just what they were doing when it hit. It was sudden, fierce and powerful. And what was strange was that the storm hardly affected any other part of the city.

My story is that at the time, I was sitting on the front porch rocking in the wicker chair, dozing now and then in the warm sultry evening air, which in summer is one of my favorite late afternoon activities.

I sensed a stir in the air and looked up at the sky. Toward the west it was very dark. I could see a storm approaching. It looked ominous. Much more so than usual summer storms. There were no clouds to see, just an enveloping, looming darkness. There was no thunder. Nor were there flashes of lightening coming closer. Then suddenly a roaring wind began raking the street. Nothing could be heard above the din.

The wind struck like a gigantic heavy fist. It was that solid. In the blowing and roaring, I looked up at the high tree branches across the way. They were whipping and bending and twisting furiously. Then came a seeming wall of water. Wind driven heavy rains were cast downward and driven before the wind. I couldn’t see anything beyond the edge of the porch. Water started blowing onto the porch so I retreated back into the house. I went to the addition in back and to the large windows looking out onto the yard, which is a good place for watching weather. However, nothing could be seen through the heavy rain. Mary Lou and I decided we’d better check all the windows quickly to see that they were shut. So we ran from window to window to make sure that they were secure. As I peered out the windows, I would repeatedly, and pointlessly, shout out, “Golly, look at that.”

The rain was being driven so hard that two of the windows were leaking rain even though tightly closed. Then there was a crash out back that could even be heard above the noise of the storm. Looking hard through the rain, we saw that the large fir tree by the side fence had come down. The fallen hulk spanned the yard from side to side, completely covering the tomato patch. As we began to make out forms through the rain, we could see that the giant oak in the next yard was still standing. That tree had been worrying me. We were downwind from it, which meant that if it came down it would land on our house. The oak was heavy enough to cause a lot of damage if it hit the addition. So we decided to retreat from the addition in the event that tree came down.

Then just as suddenly as the storm arrived, it disappeared. The electric power had gone out early in the storm, and now we stood around in semi-darkness inside the quiet house. We looked out back at the fallen fir sprawled across our yard. Also we saw that the giant oak was still upright. What is strange is that one morning eight months later in the stillness of the early dawn, that giant oak came crashing down, smashing into the rear of the house on the other side of the yard. It withstood this storm and then simply fell over of its own weight when the spring rains softened the ground.

With the fallen fir blocking our view, there wasn’t much we could see in back. We went to the front of the house and out to the street, and noticed our neighbors come walking carefully out of their houses to assess the damage. It seemed a miracle that none of the houses had been hit. Several automobiles that were parked on the street had trees fall on them. Our car was not hit. The stunned neighbors gathered in groups for mutual support.

Everything was quiet. Cars could not move on the street. People wandered around aimlessly, just looking. Shattered trees were examined in awe of the storm’s strength. The hanging and draped electric wires were festooned with leaves and the small branches that were caught in them. Each new discovery was accompanied with head shaking.

Then someone said that we would not be seeing our power on for quite some time, seeing how the wires were down. This in turn had the women wondering what would happen to the food in the refrigerators and freezers. After a little thought, it was agreed that the food would hold for some time if the refrigerator and freezer doors were kept shut. Perhaps a half a day. By then we could find out what to do next. Everyone seemed to relax a bit knowing that. True the stores were not too far away. But then again we would not have our cars for a while either, or any streets to drive on, and maybe even to walk on. What about the ice cream?-- someone asked. That was seen as an immediate problem. Ice cream won’t last long without freezers operating properly. What could we do about the ice cream? Just goes to show the time influence of problems. There were big problems all around us. But the ice cream problem, although far from critical, was immediate.

Then some local genius came up with a solution. Let’s eat the ice cream. Looking back on it, it should have be obvious. But in the midst of catastrophe, it came on us like a brilliant light. We went back into our houses, stepping across and around the massive debris to get out the ice cream, along with spoons and dishes. Back out on the street we gathered in a big group. Some sat on the trunks of fallen trees. Some on the porch steps. And others on the street curbing. One alert housewife even brought out some chocolate syrup. Turned out, there was quite a bit of ice cream. We hadn’t realized that people stocked so much ice cream. We must have sat around for two hours leisurely and resourcefully filling ourselves.

The street was not cleared and the electric power did come back on for ten days, and for that time our lives were changed. We walked to the stores up on Avenue for daily provisions. Our cars were either trapped on the street or parked away somewhere. No deliveries were made to our houses. It was so quiet without the traffic. Also there was no TV or radio. People mainly sat around talking. The daily newspapers could not be delivered. That made for a lot of free time. At dusk, through the darkness you could hear soft voices and laughing on the porches, as people sat together talking into the night. It was not all bad.

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