collegiate profile
sisterhood Immeasurable ACTS OF
The
afternoon of May 20, 2013, was shaping up to be a late spring day just like any other, when you live in the heart of Tornado Alley. Madisen Burgess, Upsilon-University of Oklahoma, was at work while a storm was brewing on the horizon, with darker and darker clouds gathering by the minute. A part of a much larger weather system, it had already produced several tornados as it made its way east.
Wild spring weather was nothing new for this native Oklahoman until shortly before 2 p.m., when she received a panicked phone call from her dad. That was new; shockingly and scarily new. “Get home now,” he demanded. Madisen Burgess wasted no time racing to her car and pointing it in the direction of home. The clouds began twisting, lightening from a dark gray to an ominous green. Home now in her sight, Madisen knew she’d make it before the storm hit, but it would be close. She ran into the house and headed to the basement. Her parents were already there, keeping an eye on the TV for the latest weather alerts. Just as soon as she made it down to the basement, new tornado warnings sounded through the room. A tornado was on the ground, and it had just shifted. Her home was now in its direct path. Luckily, her family had a safe room in their basement, built exactly for days like May 20. Madisen squeezed in with her parents and their four dogs, and her dad locked the door just as the power went out. “We didn’t know where the tornado was going. My mom started live streaming [the weather] on her iPad, but then that went off, too,” Madisen said. “All of a sudden, we heard the roar, and my ears started popping.” Just five minutes after Madisen pulled into her driveway, the tornado was ripping through her home.
Terah Bernardi and Madisen Burgess
A Worried Sister Terah Bernardi, a chapter sister of Madisen’s at the University of Oklahoma, was in Norman, Oklahoma, on May 20, hanging out with some other Alpha Gams at her summer rental house. Knowing Oklahoma was due for some interesting weather, they had gathered in their living room to keep a careful eye on the TV. When they realized the storm would be passing north of Norman, putting them mostly in the clear, her roommates sighed with relief. Unlike Terah, her roommates aren’t from Oklahoma and aren’t used to the threat that tornados bring to the area each year. But Terah, the seasoned one in the room, heard something on the news that frightened her. “When the newscaster said it was worse than May 3, 1999, I started to meltdown,” she said. “I was little, but I remember it. We were lucky, and it didn’t pass that far south, but it was so scary to watch.” The EF5 tornado that struck Oklahoma City on May 3, 1999, was one of the deadliest in the United States in over 20 years, with 50 direct fatalities.
16 quarterly
summer 2013
That wouldn’t be a comparison the newscaster would use lightly. Terah knew it must be very, very bad. She checked in with her neighbor across the street from her rental house, Garrett McKibben, who was employed by Upsilon Chapter to help with set up, clean up and meal preparation. She knew he wasn’t home, and she was worried he had gone to visit his mom, who lived in the path of the tornado. She never got a confirmation of where he was exactly, but she let Garrett know they were okay, and that they were keeping a