Where were you 10 years ago today? Unfortunately, for some, it was their last. March 2, 2012 was the single deadliest severe weather day in the Tri-State since official records began in 1950. There were 10 tornadoes in the Tri-State that day, and 11 people died in northern Kentucky, southeastern Indiana, and southwestern Ohio as a result of the tornadoes that day.

This day was also the biggest day of my weather career. This event was not a surprise; I was on television Monday morning talking about this severe weather outbreak that would occur on a Friday. By Tuesday, I was concerned that there would be severe weather to the west of the Tri-State. By Wednesday and Thursday, guidance was shifting and expanding that threat east into southern Indiana, and central Kentucky. By late Friday morning, it was very apparent that morning thunderstorms were going to move north and the warm front was going to be able to spread into northern Kentucky and areas along and south of US-50 in Ohio and Indiana. Here’s the evolution of the severe weather threat from the Storm Prediction Center in the days leading up to the March 2, 2012 tornado outbreak:

Tim Hedrick and I chatted throughout the week about the event, but I remember the conversation we had on the evening of March 1, 2012 well. That night, he asked me what I thought. I said that the severe weather threat was concerning, especially to the west of us…but I was concerned about what the leftovers would look like if thunderstorms in the morning could get out by the afternoon. By 10am Friday morning, he called and asked me to come in. By noon, I was in the chair looking at data. By 2pm, we were watching explosive thunderstorm development in Illinois and Indiana on radar; cells went from non-existent to tornadic. This outbreak’s first signal of extreme severity happened at 3:14pm ET; at this time, Henryville, Indiana is struck by an EF-4 tornado. This tornado was on the ground for 49 continuous miles and killed 11 people. The thunderstorm that produced this tornado would produce additional tornado damage in northern Kentucky and southwestern Ohio later that afternoon.

At 3:22pm, the National Weather Service in Wilmington issued their first Tornado Warning of the day for Carrollton, Kentucky and surrounding areas. At 3:44pm, that warning became the first ever Tornado Emergency issued the NWS Wilmington forecast office.

Meanwhile, a supercell in Jennings County, Indiana was rapidly rotating as it entered Ripley County. At 3:51pm, a developing EF-3 tornado took aim on Holton, Indiana. Tri-State residents Ron Pickett, Armando Hernandez, and Ted Tolbert were killed by this tornado.

Back in northern Kentucky around the same time (3:50pm), a second Tornado Emergency is issued for areas near the I-71/75 split. I remember announcing on television that rotation in the supercell was increasing and preparing to cross I-75. A tornado was forming and moving east at roughly 50mph. At 4:27pm, debris from the EF-4 Piner/Crittenden tornado is detected by the FAA Doppler radar in south-central Kenton County. This tornado was the first tornado to be considered a violent tornado since the Blue Ash/Montgomery/Symmes Township tornado on April 9, 1999. Tri-State residents Don Beemon, Linda Beemon, James Brooks, and Courtney Stephenson were killed by this tornado.

This supercell is not done. Radar showed tornado debris in southern Campbell County. This EF-3 tornado that formed in southern Campbell County would be on the ground for 23 miles into Clermont and Brown County, causing extensive damage in Moscow and Hamersville. Tri-State residents Carol Forste, James Prater, and Bill Adkins were killed by this tornado. The National Weather Service storm survey of this area also revealed a large area of 100+ mph straight-line winds near Peach Grove.

The death that I remember the most from that day was Bessie Baldwin’s. She was in her mobile home in Adams County. She was 99-years old. Had she not been in the path of that tornado or evacuated that day, she might have lived to 100-years old.

I hope you take a moment to think of the people we lost because of that day 10 years ago. Even though I have left broadcast meteorology, I still think of that day often. May it never happen again.

When I left broadcast meteorology on the last day of November in 2017, I was more than ready to go. I had been passed up for three promotions, yet I had the qualifications for all of them. I had an MBA secretly in my back pocket, and I took at job in the business world a few days after presenting a weather forecast in front of a chromakey.

Today, I leave that job.

When I joined, my focus was business intelligence – or a fancy way of saying “making business dashboards.” Over time, my position leaned into the decision scientist, data liaison, quality assurance, testing, database design, ETL, and algorithm development space as new data sources were created throughout the organization. I created a significant amount of value, and for only the second time in the last 1.5 years, I went into the office today. Since the pandemic began, this was my office 99.5% of the time:

After Christmas, I’ll start a new job. I’ll be going downtown often. I’ll be paying for parking. I’ll be in a room with people. I won’t be a SME for a while. It will be different, but here’s why I’m ready for it and how I know it was time and is time for a change:

1. Give yourself three strikes. There will be days of success, and there will be days with failures. When I started my job, I had a great boss, and we were aligned. But it was a matter of time before that boss was pushed out, the new one was looking to make a mark, and the personal and political attacks came. Strike one. I was fortunate to move to a new team that worked with my existing one. I got to do more of the things I was good at, but a personal passion of mine was to work in sustainability. For years, I talked to those in the organization about recycling, reducing overhead, and other environmental sustainability efforts; I won an award within the company for pitching some of these ideas. Finally, my company developed a sustainability arm, there was an environmental sustainability leader opening, and I applied. I interviewed as the only internal candidate, and I pitched my highly profitable ideas. Despite this, I didn’t get the job. I was very qualified, but no offer came. Strike two. A few months ago, I got assigned to 100% hands-on-keyboard development work. I get that the work needed to be done, and I saw – at a high-level – the importance of the project. But I’m not a developer; I’m a business guy who knows some things about data. Strike three. The search was on, and a great opportunity came. Each of the three strikes gave me pause and an opportunity to reflect. I don’t like seeing strikes, and – frankly – I hope I know I never see them. I, however, allowed myself a count and time for reflection along the way. Was this really want I wanted to do? Was this the environment that I wanted around me? Was this the cultural fit I needed to succeed? You know when it’s time to get off the field; one of those ways is getting three strikes.
2. Little things can matter. Is there flexibility in your job? Do you feel safe? Are you appreciated? Seemingly small things can have a significant impact on your happiness. In my “Strike Three” above, I was having a daily meeting with that team every day at noon (preventing me from going to lunch with other people and coworkers). This seemingly small daily meeting was a bottleneck. But there can also be sneakier bottlenecks or ones that wear you down over time. The phrase “merger and acquisition” is a bit of a misnomer; one often happens ahead of or without the other. When a company acquires another company, the merger piece takes time. When you work in a technology space, that often means you have legacy systems and new systems…and different credentials for each. These credentials expire over time. And there’s a possibility you can get locked out with the only way to get back in through a service desk and an IT ticket. Your productivity and success is a function of the tools you use, especially in a virtual, work-from-home world. Fatigue is real, and small tokens of respect – the “you get a lunch hour,” “thank you for your hard work,” and “I’m your boss, and I support you” matter. Along the way, assess your happiness as you work hard.
3. Personal and political attacks are a red flag. If you aren’t valued or respected, take it seriously. You should not be making repeated mistakes, but know that you can’t take on the blame for larger scale, organizational-level mistakes or missteps. Mistakes will happen; take ownership of them, but don’t take on unnecessary blame…especially repeatedly. If the blame is fair, accept it; if it’s not, it’s a signal of a bigger and more personal problem. Those that are volatile and excessively blame others are unlikely to do you favors, and those close to them are likely not worth your time either (and are probably feeding the monsters).
4. In time, you should be growing and – if you want to – advancing. I’ve learned a lot over the last 4 years, but I’m still in the same position. I want to advance in time, and I’ve found one of the best ways to do this is not vertically. When people talk about the “great resignation,” I think they are saying a few things: 1) there’s a lot of quantity but not as much quality of jobs out there, 2) the job and talent market is increasingly competitive, and you should strongly consider asking yourself if the benefits you have now are as good as you could get elsewhere, 3) people are realizing how stagnant they are, 4) people are realizing that they have at least some power in a world of large corporate influence, 5) one of the most powerful weapons employees have is to resign.
5. Happiness, joy, and success are still king. It’s pretty simple: are you happy? Are you successful? Are you joyful? Is what you today checking those boxes? If not, how are you going to get those checked? Can it be done in your current environment? How do you get there? Whether you think life is short or life is long, disappointment, frustration, anger, and sadness is no place to wallow; now is the right time to be happy, successful, and joyful…or at least work towards getting there. Go forth and find them!

I was 11 years old. I was so young that I remember playing with Legos on the family room floor. At the time, I found it a point of pride to answer the phone in the house, but at 5:15pm that day a quarter-century ago, I didn’t know that the man on the other end of the phone would reply “Ummm…is your mother there?” and likely be a police officer or firefighter looking to deliver terrible news to my family. That evening was a blur, with friends and family coming to the house, and me being whisked away with the distraction of games and other fun activities.

As I discussed in a blog post back in 2015, my father was a passionate pilot who came to Cincinnati in 1979. Nearly all of the planes he flew were based at Lunken Airport, and that’s where I spent a weeks of my childhood with him. We also traveled as a family a lot; I look at my time like the career of The Beatles: a partnership built on love and care with many good memories but which also ended too soon. He died in a plane crash on September 17, 1996.

Now 25 years later, I have learned a lot from my father’s death, but I also have many questions. Because of my loss, I’ve also had to help, assist, or grow with people who have experienced tragedy. If you’ve lost someone you care about – whether it was recently or years ago – I want to share some things I’ve learned as an unfortunate veteran of loss.

1) It’s okay to grieve, and you should grieve. Weakness – including sadness of frustration – are often dismissed or frowned upon in the world. There is a seemingly constant pressure everywhere to be strong and resilient. But – despite what everyone tells you – you should and must grieve when you experience a loss. Pushing hard-to-deal-with feelings aside only prolongs and delays the pain and keeps the healing that it found through hardship away. If you don’t take the time to process the loss or emptiness you’re feeling, your grief will just be waiting for you until you get to it, and the lack of resolution within will bring you down eventually. Grieving is not something you should fear; in the end, you’ll see that it was a path to your own peace. If you’re a person of faith, know that Matthew 5:4 says “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.”

2) You’re going to need to re-visit grieving sometimes. During the pandemic and through months of stress and strain, I realized that I never fully grieved. Grieving isn’t a process you go through and just put away; losses you experience – to some degree – last a lifetime. There will be many times you realize you didn’t resolve all of the issues or needed help. I wish my father was around when I was growing up to teach me about relationships or how to deal with highly political job environments. It would have been nice for him to guide me through career changes, too. He wasn’t here, and sometimes it’s just nice to have that voice to guide you…including when everyone else is quiet. In those moments, it’s easy to get frustrated or even angry. Why did he or she leave? Why where they taken from me? You can’t be too busy to work through it; you need to talk to someone, but you also need to understand that you can’t just deny feeling sad or frustrated – which you should be. You didn’t know that 20 years after they were gone that you would win an award and they would not be there. You didn’t know that after a tragedy would come a celebration that just felt emptier than usual because you just lost someone. There’s no way around it; you must work through it. Grieving is like rest; when your body and mind need it, there’s no substitution for it. And when you help others with your grieving, you’re going to need something constructive – perhaps even your own grieving – to heal and recharge.

3) Mentally prepare yourself for supporting others and their losses that may be bigger than yours. I remember I was in college when I got a call from the family member of a close friend. He said my friend wanted to see me immediately. He was grieving. His sister had just killed his mother, and he said I could help him with the grieving and calm him down. While I was happy to help my friend, my loss was far more extreme than mine. I had lost my father suddenly, but he had just lost his mother and likely contact with his sister for many years to come. How was I to help a friend through this? Somehow, when I walked up to my friend minutes later, I assured him we would get through this no matter how awful things seemed right now and gave him a hug. Outside of sleeping, I spent the days that followed sitting next to my friend. That experience reminded me that giving someone a hug, holding someone’s hand, and listening to them helps both you and others grieve. You don’t have to solve their problems, even if they are bigger than yours or what you think you can handle; the goal is to be their friend and support them unconditionally.

4) Life goes on quickly for others and far more slowly for you. By the way, no one tells you this, and it’s frustrating. A week after my father’s death in 1996, I went back to school. People were happy to see me, but they didn’t know my father, and they didn’t understand my loss. From their point of view, I was just not at school for a week. My teachers came to my father’s funeral, but – again – they were just there to support me; my loss was not their loss. In hindsight, all of the adults that came to my father’s funeral and visitation over the previous weekend were back to work on that Monday; they were likely sad or still reflecting that day, but some had moved on. Fast forward to the clock 6 or 12 months in the future, and even more people had moved on. They were healing a lot faster than I was. At some point, your life, too, must continue. Being alone or isolated in your healing is not ideal. You’ve been dealt a blow, and it doesn’t seem fair. But this reality means it is important for you talk to someone, including a medical professional. There is no shame in talking to a psychiatrist or psychologist. Talking to friends is good, too, but you must quickly realize that they will grow tired of listening, especially without incremental progress; friends are not designed to keep you afloat after a significant tragedy or loss. As this blog post shows, you are not alone. A network of friends will help, but your help from them will be limited. Do not hesitate to talk to someone, and stay connected to the ones you love.

5) Keep your memories in a form that is up to date. I still have the C-tapes where my father recorded home movies. Physical media breaks down over time, so those C-tapes have gradually worn out. During the years I was grieving, recovering, and going through life, my memories on video have been sitting in a drawer…slowly breaking down. I realized this a couple of years ago, and I have converted over many of the individual tapes thus far. Those tapes are one of only a few ways I can hear my father’s voice again. I’m glad I remembered about these tapes and got the tools to keep the memories alive; I encourage you to do the same. Put your memories in a form where you can enjoy them for years to come. More importantly, keep a record of dates, times, and who is in the photos and videos you keep. You may not want to hear this, but other people you may know may die in the years that come; this is a reminder to not just treasure your time with them, but this is also a reminder to use their knowledge to help you know as much as you can about your memories. Who is in that photo? When was that video taken? Is there a good story that goes with that photo that you’ll want to tell your kids?

6) A loss is a great time to see who really cares. When the funeral is over and people have to go home to their home and job, who will still contact you? Who will send cards? Who will call and see if you’re OK? Who actually cares about your happiness and well-being? A loss or tragedy can really do a number on you, but it’s also a teaching moment. You deserve friends that care and want you to be happy. Don’t make drastic moves, but take note of who just says “I’m sorry for your loss” and who actually cares about your health and peace.

7) Your mind will likely work differently after a significant loss. The times of loneliness in life seem longer than the times of joy. You’ll spend many hours of your life after a significant loss searching for answers, trying to understand why the healing isn’t coming faster, why you don’t feel better, why others around you never seem to bear the burdens you have, and why everyone else has seemingly forgotten about the loss you all just went through. You may also wonder what you could have done to prevent your loss. Why did my father go flying that day? Why did he fly an experimental plane? Why didn’t he tell me about that plane? I could be angry and upset; I have every right to be. But I’ve also learned that I could better spend my time talking to a professional, talking to a friend, or grieving. Your loss is part of your story. Being bitter will not help you; you can’t just wish them back. Life goes on, not backward. Your story, however, will be different because of the losses or tragedy you experience. Let that be your strength, not a weakness.

8) Days will get better, but the loss never completely goes away. As you get older, the memories become less clear, the number of days you don’t think about them or think about them as much increase, and the pain and frustration go down. Despite this, there will be days where you wish you were there to learn from or listen to the person you lost. Some days will feature reminders of those you lost, and some days will go smoothly without these memories entering your mind. As days go by, you also see what people told you along the way – “you will get through this,” “brighter days are ahead,” and “life goes on” – become true.

I’ve learned a lot about happiness, success, and joy in the last few years. Many would say my father died doing what he loved. He did love flying, and it brought him joy. I could be upset from losing him in my life, but I – instead – am thankful for the limited amount of time we shared; we accomplished a lot in our years together. In time, you have to find a way to let the pain go and focus your life on what is good.

Rest in peace, Dad.