By Chris Kuell

My view of the world changed in early April, 1974. Not because of a sudden illness or death of a family member; no visitations from an escaped lunatic or wizened angel. The catalyst was a tornado. Well, several tornados, to be more accurate.

I was in sixth grade at the time, at Evendale Elementary in a small town outside of Cincinnati. On a warm April evening we experienced a nasty, house shaking thunderstorm that passed reasonably quickly. The storm was followed by clear sunshine, which brought about a plethora of rainbows. I remember being outside with my brother when clouds suddenly moved in and started dropping little things that at first I thought were mothballs. Then the balls got bigger, more the size of a walnut or golf ball. We covered our heads and headed into the house, amazed at this freakish weather event. We'd lived in Ohio for eight years, and I couldn't remember any hailstorms. Like the thunderstorm, the hail barrage passed quickly. Just before my brother and I headed outside for a hail-ball fight, my mother shouted at us to stay inside, that the television said there was a tornado warning. Cool, we both thought as we darted out the front door.

Over the next few minutes, we reveled in the incredible winds, trash and empty paper bags blowing through the yards, and even saw a black funnel shape off in the distance that surely had to be a twister. Then my mother yanked us back in the house by our ears and told us to go sit in the basement.

Later we'd learned that tornados had leveled or damaged more than a dozen houses in our town. They had rolled cars over and thrown a boat half-a-mile from its trailer. But the true impact didn't hit me until school a few days later, when Tim Rupert, the tallest, most naturally gifted athlete in our school returned to tell us all of how the tornado had ripped off the roof of their house and now his sister's bedroom was gone. Not damaged or ruined-it was gone. He talked of how scared they all were, cowering under the stairs in their basement. As Tim spoke, tears filled his eyes and I noticed his hands beginning to shake. That's when I realized that tornados aren't just a cool weather phenomena. They are ambassadors of destruction; chaos at its worst. Their devastation was purely random, and nobody was safe.

So you can imagine my surprise when meeting Steve Famiglietti, the Blind Services Vocational Manager at the NEAT (New England Assistive Technology) Center at OakHill in Hartford, Connecticut, and he told me he liked to go tornado chasing.

"My friend Alan asked if I was interested in going on a tornado chase in the spring of 2008," Famiglietti said. "That was my first chase, a ten day adventure with a company called Tempest Tours out of Dallas. We went to Texas, Oklahoma, Nebraska, Kansas, Colorado, Arizona and Louisiana. We covered 5500 miles in ten days and saw one tornado in Colorado."

Each morning the group met the tour director for a weather briefing. They displayed and discussed the current data on a laptop which was projected onto a screen. Based on the weather data and maps, they made decisions about where the best potential existed for severe thunderstorms. They predicted which storms would become super cells and where tornadoes might occur, then traveled in vans to that location.

Sometimes when all the data showed everything was in place for storms and tornadoes, they made the long drive and nothing happened. Other times, the picture was unclear and they had to keep checking data as the day progressed and made changes to their final destination.

In Colorado, the director used GPS and radar to bring the group to the Southeastern part of a storm, where tornados are most likely to form. "I didn't hear or feel the tornado," Famiglietti said. "It was quite small, but I could see the black sky and just experiencing the way the winds blow out there is really something. I have a little vision in one eye, and did see lots of lightning!"

Famiglietti had caught the bug, and booked another trip with the same outfit in mid-May of 2009. "I went alone and had a blast. I met thirteen very funny, crazy people from all over the world-New Zealand, Holland, Spain and the U.K.-- and made some wonderful friends."

Tempest didn't blink when it came to including a blind chaser. "They were fine with it. I emailed them before I paid any money to tell them about myself and my vision. They told me they'd had guests with blindness on the tours in the past. They asked me to tell them what I needed during the trip and assured me they would accommodate me."

The vans travel until ten to eleven o'clock each night, finding food and hotel accommodations where they can. Any time Famiglietti needed a hand, one of the chasers offered assistance. "This year, I met some truly amazing people. I spent so much time joking and goofing off that my stomach hurt from all the laughter. The others on the trip were so wonderful to me and I've made some great new friends."

Stories of tornados past were plentiful along the trip. "We were in a restaurant in Oklahoma and I asked a lady if she had seen a tornado. She said that last year, they had to pile thirty people from the restaurant into the freezer because a tornado was approaching the place. Fortunately, it didn't hit the restaurant."

Storm chasing certainly isn't for everyone. "This year we went through Greensburg, Kansas and it was sad to see the destruction from the F5 that hit in 2007. I made the mistake of asking a few people what their experiences were and they really didn't want to talk much about it--which is understandable. I think a lot of the locals out there figure storm chasers are crazy people."

Chases happen between mid April and early July. Some companies call it storm chasing, some call it tornado chasing. If you feel like giving it a whirl, check out Tempest Tours at www.tempesttours.com. Another outfit, Silver Lining Tours, has a good reputation on the internet and does chases in Canada. Check out www.silverliningtours.com

For more information, E-mail us at: info@nfbct.org