Homeless for the Holidays

Originally Published: December 15, 2017.

Fort Morgan Times

Morgan County homelessness is on the rise. Commonly unseen and often misjudged, local homeless residents speak out.

“When you’re homeless, you lose your identity. Your culture, prior social status, who you used to be no longer matters . You’re just homeless, that’s who you are,” explains local homeless advocate Phoebe Baqueara.

Baquera speak the reality for many Morgan County residents finding themselves without a home this holiday season.

Once homeless herself at the age of sixteen, Baquera recalls spending Christmas in a shelter, after being asked to leave her home by her parents.

“I was terrified and exhausted from just trying to survive. If someone would have just said hello, or invited me to church, it would have meant so much. Hello goes a long way,” she said.

One group did take time to spend (with their overlooked neighbors) that year, and made a lifelong impression on Baquera. She recalls that night with great emotion.

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“This group of people brought Christmas to the shelter. Food and gifts, but mostly a feeling of family. It was possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said.

For others without access to shelters, the struggles run even deeper. Floyd, a local man who’s lived on the streets of Fort Morgan for the last two years, has only recently found safety in a local shelter.

“I never saw myself here. I know how to fix or build anything. I’m a handyman. Feels like if people don’t know you well, or you didn’t grow up here, it’s hard to find work,” he explained.

Due to freezing conditions last winter, Floyd had to have all of his toes removed as a result of frostbite. He still works hard helping box and distribute food for local families in need, at the community pantry located in the United Methodist Church annex building .

Floyd’s road to homelessness was much like Baquera’s. A series of events, hardships and emotionally debilitating experiences eventually led to loss of his home.

Floyd spoke of cold nights, shame and loss of belief in himself. Life’s hard knocks were evident on his face as he gazed upon the local Christmas tree, which was joyfully lit at the Fort Morgan holiday parade. “You have to keep rising up. A lot of people look at

you and think you’re just trash. You have to remind yourself to do what you can do. I do have a lot of helpers in this town though,” he said. Some of those helpers include Morgan County ambulance, police, kind residents and Rising Up – an outreach and

shelter that provides a hot meal, warm place to sleep, clothing and counseling. Floyd’s biggest inspiration in life has been a local woman whose presence in the homeless community has begun to make a large impact. “Pam Hernandez. She talks to me, she

gave me a job boxing food. She believes in me,” he said. Hernandez runs Rising Up. She was kind enough to give a tour of the place that provides hope to those in crises. “This too shall pass,” Hernadez whispered to a newly homeless woman who had come

to the shelter in tears. “Part of what we do initially is help them to calm down, problem solve and not to panic. Most of what they need is support,” she said. Some main causes of homelessness, Hernandez says, are a lack of a support system, mental illness or

trauma, and plain old bad luck. Rising Up took 37 people off the streets last season, and gave them the means to help themselves back to a place of security. With each winter the demand grows, but their space is at capacity. “We have had to turn two

people away already, because we’re out of room. We are desperately looking for that special person who will have it in their heart to help us get a bigger space,” she said.Those interested in helping volunteer, donate or possibly provide a bigger space, are

encouraged to call and schedule a tour. “We want to break the stigma that homelessness always equates to laziness. We have homeless residents with full time jobs,” Hernandez stated. According to Hernandez, a person earning minimum wage in Colorado,

needs to work 90 hours a week in order to afford a one bedroom apartment and the bills that includes. That doesn’t include money for food. “We’re all just one really bad day away from the streets,” Floyd stated, when asked how one gets to be homeless.

Floyd recalled his very bad day, then drew in a deep breath, as if breathing in a dose of courage. “But we can’t give up,” he said. Floyd thought for a moment, when asked if he could tell Morgan County residents one thing. His eyes spilled over and he wiped

away a tear with a weather worn hand.

“I’m a good man.”

Chasing Chaos

Originally Published: May 29, 2018

When tornado sirens go off and a town is warned to take cover, storm chasers take to the back roads and open land for a spectacular show. This weekend I had the exhilarating experience of spending a day in the life of a storm chaser. I can honestly say it was one of the most intense and exciting days I’ve ever had.

Thomas Cooper, Colorado storm chaser and owner of Lightbox Images Photography, grew up in Fort Morgan. He recalls being a young boy, hiding in basements every summer during tornado warnings and the aching he had for the chance to be outside and witness one.

Nowadays, he does just that. When a storm is brewing you will find Cooper in the middle of it, waiting for the perfect shot and the rush of adrenaline that only storm chasing can give him. I had the chance to experience that rush and I will crave it every time I see a thunderhead from this day forward.

7 a.m. The fuzzy, monotone voice of the man on the National Weather Service scanner warns us of ‘multiple tornadoes likely’ in the hours ahead. It’s go time. We scurry around, gathering cameras and weather equipment. We hop in Cooper’s storm-chasing vehicle and blaze a trail down dirt roads and shortcuts, in hopes to place ourselves in the path of the predicted storms. The drive to the ideal location can sometimes be hundreds of miles out.

9 a.m. We arrive on the eastern plains. Skies are still fairly calm and just overcast. I stare at the sky, willing it to start doing anything. Cooper assures me that it will all start happening in the afternoon, when temperatures begin to warm. I want badly to believe him but it doesn’t look like we will be seeing much action.

Cooper briefs me on the ins and outs of storm chasing and tornado behavior. He begins by telling me about the Fujita Scale.

The Fujita Scale is a scale for measuring tornado intensity and damage likely. The scale ranges from F1 to F5.

An F1 tornado has wind speeds of approximately 73-112 mph (miles per hour). An F2 produces wind speeds of 113-157 mph. An F4, 158-206 mph and finally the “Finger of God” as storm chasers refer to it, an F5, with speeds sometimes exceeding 300 mph.

11 a.m. The skies begin to look a little angrier and this makes me shiver with anticipation. We are in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the road, watching clouds begin to churn. I have no cell phone service, no internet and a feeling of such wild freedom that I can hardly keep from doing cartwheels through the field like a little girl. It’s amazing what escape from the grind of daily life, and the anticipation of unbridled nature can do for a person’s soul.

3 p.m. We stop in at a gas station for some fuel. Some days Cooper travels in excess of 400 miles while chasing and much of the time is in the middle of miles of open land with no gas stations. I go inside to grab some sustenance. While inside, I hear an alert on the radio. A severe thunderstorm warning has been issued. Arriving outside at the vehicle again, I see Cooper’s excited expression and realize he was alerted to the same. We take off for the adventure, barreling down the road as fast as we can, to get ahead of the storm so that we can intercept it. I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

While en route to the location, we check out Doppler radar and listen to the National Weather Service scanner. Cooper tells me safety measures in the event we intercept a tornado. I thought I would be a little scared when it came down to it, but I have never been more excited in my life. The one thing I notice about storm chasing is there is more waiting and driving than anything else, but even that part is fun.

According to Cooper the best place to watch a tornado is from the southwest side of the storm. Most all storms tend to move north, northeast so this puts you close enough without being in the path. Some storms, however, can be unpredictable. This is why you should only chase a tornado with a trained chaser, who has the knowledge and equipment to know how to properly escape.

The biggest tornadoes are produced by supercells and mesocyclones. Supercells are also referred to as rotating thunderstorms. Supercells are the largest, most dangerous type of thunderstorms, according to Cooper. The mesocyclone is the updraft part of the supercell, or in other words, a rapidly rotating air mass.

Sometimes, hail can help be a predictor of an impending tornado. According to Cooper, hail gets re-circulated in the storm before it makes its way to the ground, and that’s how it grows larger. This signals the needed updraft to produce a tornado.

“If you cut a big ball of hail in half, you will see rings. If you count them it will tell you how many times it has been recirculated. Extremely large hail requires a large updraft,” says Cooper.

In order for a tornado to form, warm, moist air from the Gulf of Mexico and cool, dry air from Canada must merge. When these two air masses meet, they create instability in the atmosphere. This forms the perfect environment for a tornado to be born.

“When the air is humid and warms up, it produces an environment which helps the storm build up bigger and bigger. Supercells form from the larger storms, they look like giant mushrooms. They are their own monster. Those storms are what produce the F4 or F5 tornados,” says Cooper.

Cooper recalls the Windsor, Colorado tornado, which occurred on May 22, 2008. Cooper was there and his images from the catastrophe were published nationally.

“The scary thing about the Windsor tornado was that it went the opposite direction of the way storms typically move. That’s what made it so dangerous, it was completely unexpected,” says Cooper.

The Windsor tornado was an F3 tornado, which was a mile wide and stayed on the ground for 40 miles.

“I have photos of a single piece of straw that was driven through steel from the speed and intensity of the winds,” said Cooper.

5 p.m. It’s raining; the sky is an eerie shade of teal and grey. As we step outside, the atmosphere around us feels alive. Clouds are lowering and look like they could touch the ground any minute. They swirl and churn, lightning strikes every few seconds and rain drenches us through our clothes but I barely notice. I am completely mesmerized. I am witnessing first hand the kind of things I have only seen in photos. The entire sky is raging.

5:15 p.m. The radio scanner plays from inside the vehicle. “Take cover now,” it says. We do just the opposite. Cooper feverishly snaps photos and video as the wind starts to pick up. Tornado sirens fill the air from the radio scanner with the promise of chaos. The more they sound their warnings, the more I am frozen in awe. I have no fear in the moment and no intentions of moving from where I stand. This is hands down, the most exciting moment of my life. Tornados are on the ground, according to scanners. The chase is on.

5:30 p.m. Then the chase is off. We are in the middle of nowhere and cannot determine our exact location. We have no idea where the tornados are or where we are in relation. This is one of the frustrations of the job, Cooper tells me. Sometimes, you have no service and no idea where you are. Being lost right now, I think to myself, has helped me feel more alive than ever.

Later we start receiving footage of a few tornado touchdowns; we missed it by 15 miles, due to the loss of cell phone coverage. It’s part of the job, but never does lose its sting. Cooper and I are slightly disappointed but also too invigorated to let it get us down.

7 p.m. We begin heading home and plan to go out again and again until the season comes to a close. I look forward to the electric feeling of chasing again and the chance to document the experience. We have several hours ahead of us to drive home but I am nowhere near tired, as this experience has riled me up too much to rest.

To prepare for a chase, sometimes it takes days. Cooper must listen to weather reports, scan Doppler radar and plot out his projected path of the storms. A chase takes hours and hundreds of miles and sometimes you end up in another state, spending the night in hotels or driving through the night.

Chasing is more guessing and waiting than anything else, but the moment you intercept a storm is very much what I had imagined it would be, an adrenaline rush like no other that I have ever felt.

What I have learned from this experience is that sometimes the best things require the most patience. We didn’t get up close footage of a tornado this time. We drove over 400 miles and came home tired and wet, but it was worth every second.

Most importantly, I realized the high one can get from adventure and immersion into nature. I forgot all of my worries and took away with me a new addiction for rush of the chase.

Thomas Cooper is a world renowned photographer who has been published in National Geographic, People Magazine, multiple news media releases, fashion magazines and much more. To view his work visit www.lightboximages.com.

For more information on how to become a storm chaser or weather spotter yourself, visit www.skywarn.org.