04/24/2026
When people talk about tornadoes, we often think of the classic “freight train” sound that is described as it rolls through, but after witnessing what I have witnessed this past week in Lena, I think there are some other sounds that do a better job telling the whole story and help to give us perspective as to not only where we’ve been - but where we are headed.
Warning sirens blared, driving wind and thunderous hail pelted down - immediately followed by that tell tale “freight train.” Then…quiet - eerily quiet. No birds chirping, no air conditioners whirling, no television or Spotify playing in the background. Friday night the town was blanketed in quiet. Almost purposefully, as if focussing in deep thought on what comes next - what’s our next play?
Saturday morning’s first light was greeted by a cacophony of chainsaws. The quiet was now over. The rumble of skidloaders and dump trucks as the cavalry arrived from not just Lena, but from all stretches of the surrounding area was as methodical as a war drum. The sound of hydraulics engaging and effortlessly lifting debris pile by pile was welcomed by everyone. Backup alarms chirped away as skid loaders wrangled in another pile before watching it disappear into the bed of a dump truck.
And then something happened. It started slowly, perhaps as a tactful and well timed smile of encouragement, slowly spreading from one volunteer to another. Quiet conversation blossomed into a small chuckle. It was a part of the human experience that we all needed. More smiles and laughs soon followed. In that moment, it was some of the best medicine we could have asked for. As Saturday wore on, humans and machines both continued to dig, making load after load disappear. The “braaap” of chainsaws still filled the air, but something had shifted. The mood was lighter, much less ominous than before. The laughter helped. Saturday night was defined by the whirl of generators. It was again quiet, but signs and sounds of life were emerging.
Sunday morning was the question mark. Would people still have enough gas in their tanks for another round of cleanup? And just as quickly as that question formed into a thought, a chainsaw popped off in the distance. Within what seemed like seconds, several others joined the chorus. Birds chirped, people laughed, and chainsaws buzzed. As Sunday came to a close, power to most of the town was restored, and the hum of freezers and refrigerators greeted many who returned home after a long arduous day.
Monday opened with a new sound to accompany the diminishing chainsaws. The rhythmical banging of hammers and nail guns could be heard in many neighborhoods. We were no longer digging ourselves out. We were building ourselves back up. We came into our clinic greeted by messages on our machine from patients in different communities calling to check on us. The sound of their voices and genuine concern was just as uplifting as the pounding of hammers. Monday afternoon saw windows open, and faint sounds of kids outside playing and riding their bikes filtered in. As the week marched on, more hammers, then lawnmowers, and the sound of school buses once again resuming their morning routes.
Now tonight, just one week after those warning sirens blared, many of our community will gather in hope of raising our voices in support of one of our own getting drafted to the NFL. Sounds of warning and disaster have been replaced with sounds of drive, determination, and success. That shift demonstrates the fortitude of Lena and the graciousness of our neighbors. Thank you everyone that has lent a hand in any way, shape, or form over the last week. We would not be where we are at right now without you.
LenaStrong,
Dr. Jared
