By Harold Brummett
Star Denmark Route
The storms made everyone on my hill nervous. Some went to the basement and sat it
out; others in the house sat with me and watched the event unfold on television. The
night before Angie woke me up and we watched lightning to our north put on a display
words could not describe.
When in aviation we had classes on weather and learned there were three types of
lightning, air to air, air to ground and ground to air. The entirety of the lesson was on
display. The whole atmosphere lit up, horizon to horizon and one could only wonder
what the poor souls were thinking as they lay under this assault.
Our turn came. Matt Laubhan and his crew in Tupelo at WTVA were our companions as
the world turned angry and lashed out. The rain was so thick that it seemed to replace
the very air. Lighting was a constant barrage, deafening in its volume and made me
think of other places in another time where the noise was man-made and no less
frightening.
No one can become used to such weather. Anyone who has experienced such a natural
display of power can only acquiesce to the power and concede sovereignty to the God
of all. Man once again becomes a spectator to the power of nature and the will of God.
One cowers and rediscovers prayer.
My father Audley built his own house in the 1950’s. Nothing elaborate, a wood frame
house that he added to as necessity and finances permitted. Uncle Joe Allen and other
relatives help build the house. No plans on paper, no power saws, lumber cut from the
place, heart pine and oak. There was a fireplace and a wood cook stove at the
beginning and later replaced with a wood burning furnace and electric stove and
appliances in the kitchen.
There was a basement. The cement was hand mixed on site in wheelbarrows and
poured into the forms. One could still see the wood grain in the cement when the boards
were pulled away.
The basement stored potatoes, peanuts and other crops, and one year a stalk of
bananas hung there in the cool. The most important thing that it kept was the family
when the weather turned bad. The house always stood strong, put together by hand
with love and concern for the people it would contain.
When I built my house, it contained a basement. Like my father, it was not built using a
contractor, no building inspectors, no one to interfere with highhanded government rules
and regulations. I argued with our county supervisor at the time, a man not from here,

against building codes and that a man should be able to build his own house as he saw
fit.
Progress wears a suit and tie with hands that are soft and un-calloused. He asked what
if I sold the house and someone else bought it, wouldn’t they want to make sure the
house was built to some sort of standard? The standard I had was the same one my
father had. My family has been in the county since the 1800’s. This is where I am from,
not just where I live. This house keeps my family.
When the weather turns violent one can only endure, seek shelter and realize that there
is a power greater than man.