By
Steve Olafson OKLAHOMA CITY |
(Reuters) - After one of the strangest local weather days in memory, an
Oklahoma woman with a sense of humor asked on Twitter earlier this week:
"Wanna experience the
apocalypse before it happens? Visit Oklahoma!"
She posted that on Monday night shortly
after a 4.7-magnitude aftershock earthquake shook the state. The temblor
occurred not long after six tornadoes ripped through southwest Oklahoma, which
was preceded by flash-flooding in an area that's been plagued by a historic
drought.
"Seriously, WHAT'S GOING ON?"
someone else tweeted that night.
The answers vary. Global warning?
Coincidence? Bad luck? Bad timing? End of time?
There's agreement on only one thing:
It's been weird all year.
"Even for Oklahoma, this is
crazy," said Rick Smith, a National Weather Service meteorologist in
Norman. "Since January, we've been setting records. People are just kind
of amazed and shocked."
State records set this year have ranged
from the lowest temperature (31 degrees below zero in Nowata in northeast
Oklahoma) to snowfall in a 24-hour period (27 inches, also in Nowata) to the
largest hail stone (a spiky, six-inch piece recovered in Gotebo, in southwest
Oklahoma).
This year also produced the state's
highest-ever-recorded surface wind speed (151 miles per hour near El Reno,
outside of Oklahoma City) and biggest known earthquake (5.6 magnitude, breaking
the 1956 record).
On Wednesday, Governor Mary Fallin
declared a state of emergency for 20 counties because of earthquakes, tornadoes
and severe storms.
TOUGH YEAR
"It's been a tough year for
Oklahoma when it comes to weather and natural disasters, but we're doing
everything we can to help," Fallin said in a statement announcing the
declaration.
The state's record-breaking earthquake
got everyone's attention. In the past week, counting both foreshock and
aftershock earthquakes that sandwiched the state record-breaking rumbler, 32
earthquakes have been recorded in central Oklahoma.
In Meeker, population 968, east of
Oklahoma City, the town administrator was describing the damage and wondering
aloud if his town, founded in 1903, could survive a California-style "big
one."
"I'm beginning to think God's a
little mad at us," Jim Howard said.
Howard was joking, but questions of the
Almighty are coming into play in Oklahoma, where Christian beliefs underpin
much of the culture.
An Oklahoma City TV station interviewed
a preacher who proclaimed, "I think it's pointing up to the end of
time."
That belief is not shared by all, even
fervent believers.
Nancy Dailey, a school teacher in
Oklahoma City whose father was a Baptist preacher, dismisses doomsday talk from
the pulpit, saying it just scares people.
Still, she said she overheard two
co-workers sharing end-of-the-world talk in the teacher's lounge.
"After all these natural disasters
we've been having, at some point all you have left is humor to try and cope
with it," said Gary McManus, associate climatologist for the state.
There is at least one benefit to the
state's weather.
Norman, home to the National Weather
Festival, has become a magnet for meteorology students from around the country.
The University of Oklahoma there built a five-story, $69 million National
Weather Center six years ago, and installed the National Oceanic and
Atmospheric Association (NOAA) as its largest tenant.
This week, NOAA said it will send the
university $75 million in federal funds for weather radar research to improve
severe storm forecasts and increase understanding of extreme weather.
Smith, the National Weather Service
meteorologist, calls OU a "top-of-the-list" institution for people
serious about weather.
"For going to school in a natural
laboratory, you can't beat it."
McManus agreed: "You don't want to
go to L.A. and study endless sunny skies."
(Editing by Corrie MacLaggan and Jerry
Norton)
http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/11/11/us-apocalypse-oklahoma-odd-f-idUSTRE7AA3VQ20111111?feedType=nl&feedName=usoddlyenough
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