Kevin Myatt

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About Kevin

Kevin Myatt grew up in Arkansas to the tune of tornado sirens and the rhythm of hailstones, aspiring to be a meteorologist before his studies and career were turned to journalism instead. Though he often chases storms, he prefers living in the cooler, more tranquil weather of the Blue Ridge. He moved to Roanoke in 1999 to take a job on the copy desk of The Roanoke Times; writing headlines and editing copy is his principal work for the newspaper today.

Each May, Kevin assists Pulaski County High School / Virginia Tech meteorology instructor Dave Carroll in leading college and high school students to the Plains to observe severe weather firsthand. The accounts of many of his storm chases can be found here on the storm chasing page of his weather blog on roanoke.com.

Kevin was an editor for "Hurricanes and the Middle Atlantic States," a book written by D.C.-area weather enthusiast Rick Schwartz and published by Blue Diamond Books that documents hurricanes striking the mid-Atlantic states since colonial times.

The Weather Journal column began in 2003 and appears on Friday's Virginia section front in The Roanoke Times. The Weather Journal blog began in 2006 and follows weather day-by-day between the larger columns.

Close encounter with tornado brings back memories of childhood dread

Tornado sirens wailed as we drove through Hays, Kan., on Friday evening.

We had seen the tornado that was coming -- a broad, ugly monster, sweeping northeastward angrily.

Those sirens brought back memories of cowering from tornadoes in a bathroom as a child. It took two extremely deadly and destructive tornadoes five years apart in the late 1960s and early 1970s to persuade my Arkansas hometown to install warning sirens.

While Hays was on the edge of the tornado warning, the actual tornado passed west of the central Kansas town, causing damage at nearby Ellis.

We stopped just east of Hays to look back at the supercell thunderstorm spawning the tornado. The entire storm, a boiling, dark mass, rotated before us. Strong winds blasted from east to west directly into the storm.

Hays firemen stopped to look at our radar, thankful for the information we were able to provide for them.

Our student storm chasers, who had already seen nine tornadoes in two days, stood in awe at the spectacle, their hair whipped and clothes rippled by the winds.

Sirens blared miserably in the town before us. Police cars and fire trucks with loudspeakers roamed the streets, warning of the storm.

My stomach tightened. Yes, I go looking for these storms, and often find them. But the childhood dread hasn't left me.