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Evidence of my tendency to disparage Nebraska in comparisons large and small, short and tall with Wyoming is abundant. It’s been piling up in columns for years and I see no reason to back …
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Evidence of my tendency to disparage Nebraska in comparisons large and small, short and tall with Wyoming is abundant. It’s been piling up in columns for years and I see no reason to back off.
Recent events here in the Miles and Miles of Mind-Numbing Brown Stubble state bring to mind one category in which Nebraska throws deep shade on the Cowboy State.
We don’t have mountains or moose or real forests here, but gall dang it we got us some hail. In our half-dozen or so years living on North Cary Street, Good Wife Norma and I cannot recall a single hailstone appearing from your sparkling blue sky.
Oh boy, when it comes to chunks of ice punching holes in the roof … and the car and the crops and the trees and the garden shed, you folks don’t hold a candle to Cornhuskers.
The accompanying recent photo shows demolition and removal of our very own roof. It is the latest of three (yes three) we’ve had to replace here in York.
The first two were just a few years ago when, due to typical Moseley luck, a powerful storm pulverized and forced us to replace two at the same time.
We had closed on purchase of the house in the photo, but not just yet on the one we sold down the street. Thus, delivering an angst-driven two-fer we did not ask for or want, but received just the same.
Leap ahead to this fall when — as it always eventually does here — the roof and this time steel siding, gutters, downspouts and leaf screens too, were pounded into submission.
The only roofs in town that escaped destruction were … were… Shoot, now that I try I can’t name a single survivor, though mathematical odds suggest there must have been one or two.
Windows were splintered and you should see the vinyl siding on the west and north sides of buildings here. It’s sickening and would probably shock the average Wyoming resident, yet sadly it’s sort of ho-hum common here.
The good news for us? Our three-car attached garage, rare in this classic ‘Leave it to Beaver’ 1950s neighborhood, sheltered all our rolling stock. No car or boat damage at all.
Others were not so fortunate. Outdoor auto insurance adjustment stations popped up on the parking lots at empty buildings. Portable auto glass centers (let’s sing the ‘Safelite Repair, Safelite Replace’ jingle) were also much in evidence.
Our poor landfill is still buried all over again daily under an avalanche of ruined shingles, siding, shattered glass, gutters, downspouts and splintered trees.
Our own roof was removed and replaced from morning to late afternoon of a single day. We are still haggling over the siding which is nice; gives us something to do while waiting for the gutter guy who is late by two — or is it three — weeks.
And we’re not talking chump change, either. Our check after the $1,000 deductible will land dangerously near $30,000. And that’s just us! One house on one corner. Can you imagine?
There you have it, hail is the one thing New-Brass-Key has that Park County and even Yellowstone can never hope to match. So there, hardy har har.
But wait, is it possible there’s a second area in which Nebraska stands far superior? Tune in again next month when we’ll hear Steve scream … TORNADO!
