Together, my husband and I peered through the windshield as the evening storm whipped itself into a frenzy—chasing concert goers scrambling for the safety of their cars while winds blew gushes of rain horizontally. An hour later, with the delayed concert officially cancelled, we pointed the car for home, dodging fallen branches and darkened traffic lights as we traveled slowly through the streets of Grand Rapids.
As is often the case when you’re married to a journalist, you learn that news never rests, and I took it in stride as my husband took numerous calls as we walked the grounds at the Frederik Meijer Gardens, and I understood when he excused himself to receive more calls as concert goers rose to their feet for encore performances. As the music played, the storm made its way across West Michigan, coming at us like the 80’s rockers taking ownership of the stage before us. Then, quicker than a flash of lightning, we were told to get to our cars…quickly.
But as we headed home, I was less than thrilled to hear my husband tell the person on the other end of the phone that we would be glad to drive to a small town located somewhere east of Hastings to capture weather video.
Hastings. No, a town EAST of Hastings. And I just wanted to get home.
Now, operating as part of a Storm Chaser team, we drove down country roads, talked with convenience store employees, and finally found the designated area believed to be hit hard by the storm—with a flattened barn sprawled across a field. A news team from a another local TV station was already on site, and a young reporter carried a camera as a young photographer fumbled with a small light that lamely threw a tiny beam of light into the darkness.
And that’s when my husband threw on his superhero cape. Politely passing the news crew standing beside the road, he cranked the steering wheel, turning our car toward the flattened barn, threw on the high beams, and stepped out to shoot the destruction with his cell phone. I watched my husband doing what he does best, while the neighboring news crew also watched him, no doubt, having an Aha Moment as they witnessed my husband accomplish in two minutes what they were trying to for the last hour. I KNOW that the moment we drove away, the photographer hopped into his news vehicle and turned on those magical high beams.
That’s my husband, my Superhero. Every single day.