A Fun, Yet Stinging Memory

You know how sometimes you see or hear something that reminds you of something you have either forgotten, or just not thought about for a very long time? Well, that happened to me just the other day, and it was a fun memory from my childhood…well, kind of fun.

During a writing lesson at school the topic somehow turned to tornados. The natural progression of this conversation somehow turned into a discussion of whirlwinds and Dust Devils. Now, Dust Devil is a term I am very familiar with, but haven’t had much of a need to use or even think about for many years.

I’ve written before about growing up in El Paso, the west Texas of west Texas. Basically, El Paso is a in the middle of a big desert. It’s very dry with lots and lots of sand, and Dust Devils are very common.

The playground at my elementary school was a huge sandbox. You could dig down about four to six inches, clear away the sand and find a hardened clay base. It was on this base that we would play marbles, or sometimes use sticks to carve out little caves. It was a fun playground.

However, there were times, and to the best of my recollection they happened daily, when the Dust Devils would come. First, you would hear the screams of the children as they ran trying to escape the stinging winds. You’d look up to see the funnel cloud of swirling sand moving across the playground, and pray it wasn’t heading your way.

More often than not, you either weren’t in the path of the Dust Devil, or you could simply run out of its line of fire.

The times I couldn’t avoid these sandy monsters are burned into my memory. For you see, this was sand blowing at speeds of up to 70 miles per hour, and all you could do was turn your back to the storm, clamp your eyes and mouth shut, and brace yourself for its merciless attack.

Most times the onslaught would end in a matter of seconds, but it would leave you with a burning reminder that mother nature's not always your friend.

So there I was, a first grader facing the harsh realities of a cruel and hostile playground, with little more than my quick wit and the speed of my Converse Chuck Taylor high-tops to protect me from the savage west Texas weather. But I had something these fierce beasts weren’t counting on…an older brother who not only had been out in the world fighting the elements three years longer than I had, but whose wisdom in matters like this was legendary…at least in my mind.

“Look Hugh, when these Dust Devils come up here’s what you do,” he said using his best advice giving voice. “I know your first impulse is to turn your back and shut your eyes when they’re coming toward you, but that’s the wrong thing to do.”

Now, this is where I should have figured out that something was amiss, but I was young and trusting. Besides, this was my brother talking and he wouldn’t lead me astray on such a life and death matter.

“You have to face the storm,” he said, “look straight at it and don’t move.”

“But won’t hurt even more?”

“It seems like it would, but for some reason you looking straight at it, and the spinning sand not going in a straight line makes it impossible for the sand to get in your eyes. It also doesn’t hurt as much.”

And I bought it hook, line, and sinker!

I don’t know how long it was before I had the occasion to test my newfound Dust Devil deterrent, but it plays back in my mind like a nightmare forever stuck in an endless, slow motion loop.

I’m on the playground. I’ve got plenty of time to escape the approaching menace, but unlike my friends who franticly scramble for safety, I stand my ground, safe in the knowledge that I can beat my oncoming foe. I may have even moved into its path.

So there I was, standing feet apart, hands on my hips, eyes wide open staring down the approaching Dust Devil.

It wasn’t until the outer layers of the now giant swirling mass of sand reached me that I began doubting my brother’s wisdom.

I’m forced to admit that the strong winds and spinning sand paint a both beautiful and remarkable picture. But that’s not a silhouette you want tattooed on your eyeballs!

The whole event was over before I ever had a chance to run. Sinking to my knees, I struggled to rub bucketfuls of sand from my now bloodshot eyes as my friends who, watching from a safe distance, now all ran to my aid wondering what in the hell I was thinking.

I’m not sure how, but somewhere off in the distance...I heard a familiar laugh.