Greensburg residents bring back town

"This town is crazy .... Baby you're lost. Baby you're lost. Baby you're a lost cause."

-- Beck

GREENSBURG, Kan. -- It looks like a town completely out of place, as if plopped from an alien world onto the prairie. Clinging-to-life trees, crumbled buildings and cartwheeling sagebrush whisper gently against the ever-raging Kansas wind: We're what's left.

Somehow, though, the town remains where it's always stood. It suffered the disastrous fate of sitting directly in the path of one of the nastiest twisters ever spawned by Tornado Alley. The 1.7-mile-wide EF5 -- beastliest of tornados -- plowed the town on May 4, 2007, as Greensburg residents were getting ready to hop into bed for the night.

Thankfully, most of them were still up at 9:50 p.m. when the monster roared in from the southwest. TV warnings grew more stern and sirens' wails more intense as that fateful evening unleashed a fury that forever changed lives.

Miraculously, only 10 of Greensburg's 1,700 residents died in the storm. It touched off three more EF5s that narrowly missed towns to the north but claimed one more life.

In Greensburg, about all that remained was the courthouse and the 100-plus-foot grain elevator. Townsfolk talk about the bizarre black marks left atop the alabaster tower. They are tire tracks, from a car or truck, that left a last earthly imprint before getting tossed heavenward.

The devastation puts Greensburg square into Third World realm. Only a tiny Kwik Stop serves groceries and gas to the remaining inhabitants.

Most remarkable a year after the storm is the collective will of Greensburg residents. Their tenacity stands as tall as those improbable tire tracks in the sky.

Houses are being rebuilt. A new Methodist church is going up. A new water tower stands ready to irrigate a transformation that's perhaps no less daunting than what early settlers faced when they came to scratch out a living in this harsh landscape.

To commemorate how far the town has come and where it's going -- it's rebuilding with eco-friendly "green" building materials -- President Bush flew in for the Greensburg High School Class of 2008 graduation on May 4, the one-year anniversary of the Big One.

I was there, getting my first glimpse of the town in which my coworker's father and his family were raised. Greensburg buzzed with barbecues, dedications, a dance and a vigil for those who perished.

Despite the desolation, the town rolled out a first-class welcome for the President. Patriot Guard cyclists from across Kansas and beyond lined both sides of Main Street for several blocks. They held hundreds of flapping American flags, creating a spectacle of patriotism as the President whisked by. His motorcade streamed to the graduation site -- a temporary gymnasium surrounded by trailers of the defacto high school.

Bush told the graduates, "At this ceremony, we celebrate your year-long journey from tragedy to triumph. We celebrate the resurgence of a town that stood tall when its buildings and homes were laid low. We celebrate the power of faith and the love of family, and the bonds of friendship that guided you through the disaster. Finally, we celebrate the resilience of 18 seniors who grew closer together when the world around them blew apart."

Indeed, perhaps most promising about Greensburg's future is the fact that not one senior in the Class of 2008 left town after the tornado. The disaster forged an uncommon bond and a determination to stick with the people who got you this far.

The president of the senior class said, "Although some people definitely don't consider it a blessing that the tornado hit, there are many good things that came out of it. The strength and unity that has grown, not only in our class, but in the whole town is just great."

Greensburg's spirited graduation, covered by the national media, symbolized what else remains: Defiance, wisdom and pride.

Even the trees are coming back, sprouting crazy shoots of green from trunks and mangled limbs. A tree along Main Street hangs on, its bark shorn away, a piece of twisted and rusted metal drilled deep into its trunk.

My co-worker showed me pictures of the town's drugstore soda fountain in its pre-tornado glory. It looked transported out of "Mayberry RFD" -- checkered tile floor, shiny-red topped bar stools, and massive wood counter studded by a gleaming soda stand.

It's long gone, perhaps blown off to Oz. Fortunately, Richard Huckriede, renowned as being the world's oldest soda jerk, survived.

I can't imagine the shock felt by old-timers who in an instant saw the town in which they created so many memories and forged their identity, such as legendary soda jerk, get wiped out. Their mind's eye -- like that of my co-worker -- still pictures the farmhouses, churches, markets and diners that made Greensburg a distinctive dot on the prairie.

The heart of the town spilled out at the candlelight vigil. Soft glows of flame illuminated hugs and tears under a star-splotched blanket of night. Compassion and warmth -- the unyielding human qualities of a tiny prairie burg -- beat back against the vast Great Plains darkness.

This town, left in crazy disarray from Mother Nature's wrath, is rebuilding and coming back strong.

Greensburg is anything but a lost cause.

Chris Casey is a reporter at The Tribune. He covers immigration, diversity and higher education. His column runs on Wednesdays. To reach him, e-mail ccasey@greeleytribune.com or call (970) 392-5623.

Watch Video of Pres. Bush's visit to Greensburg