Think I was only six or seven when a cyclone destroyed my grandfather Parry's barn. My grandfather and the hired man, Chester Pyle, were ready to go to the storm cellar. Grandmother started to go back to house for a lamp. Chester Pyle picked her up and carried her to cellar. Grandpa and Grandma were both small. A few days later my father took a wagon load of hay to my grandfather and I rode up on the hay with him. I will never forget seeing the house just north of my Grandparents laying broken beside the road, a dresser drawer spilled its contents. I can still see a child's hat laying there. My father told of straws driven into trees and chickens running about, completely stripped of feathers. After that I was so very afraid of wind storms and often my mother took me to cellar to still my fright but Papa never came to cellar with us. I would see him at barn watching clouds and he knew they were not tornado clouds.