Aumsville isn't Kansas. It's dullsville. Residents of the bedroom community southeast of Salem like it that way.
But shortly before noon Tuesday, as Steve the Barber gave someone a trim in his Main Street shop and the usual lunch crowd began showing up at Pizza Peddler, a destructive December tornado tore through that predictability.
There wasn't an official warning from the National Weather Service before the sky turned a beastly shade of dark. Just a hard rain, hail and, finally, the funnel cloud.
On Cleveland Street, just a few blocks from the town's tiny business district, Vincent Catron, 46, was painting a friend's house when he saw a dark streak go horizontal in the sky.
"You could see a tail dropping from it, it was so quick," Catron said, "it was like seeing someone snap a whip. It went down and came right back up."
The most concentrated and violent storms produced by the atmosphere, tornadoes are an oddity but not rare in Oregon. In December 2008, an F2 tornado, one of the most powerful in Oregon in decades, touched down near Newberg.
Yet Oregon's twisters rarely leave a scar like the one that hit Aumsville, a town of 2,400 with a small market and a sprinkling of businesses surrounded by farms and rural acreage. With no industry, most residents commute to work. Some describe it – with pride – as "boring" and "sleepy."
Nearly 50 children were in the church's school. Smith and other staff members quickly herded the girls and boys into the middle of the large church. There was no time for words, not even prayers. Within a few heartbeats, "the tornado went right over us," she said.
There was no apparent damage to the church. It just missed being hit.
"I've never seen a tornado in my life, except on the news or in the movies."
At the 100-space Windemere Meadows manufactured home community, the tornado tore off the roofs of between 10 and 15 homes in the northwest end of the complex.
Vera Kirsch, 64, was standing in the doorway of her home's master bedroom, when she heard the windows starting to break. "I grabbed the door knob and slammed the door shut, and the whole south side windows on our house just cracked, just shattered."
Another 5 seconds, she said, "and I would have been just blasted with big huge pieces."
Next door, Michael Amato, 36, was rattled from a nap. He found his Christmas tree knocked over, some of his windows cracked, half of his roof's shingles missing and his carport awning gone.
Amato drove to Aumsville Elementary School to pick up his 10-year-old son. "Their power is out, and their phone lines are out, so the kids are stranded there until their parents show," Amato said.
"I've never seen a tornado in my life, except on the news or in the movies," Amato said.
In the aftermath, the sun came out long enough to illuminate the damage. Then the rain returned.
On Cleveland Street, water began pouring through the light fixtures and holes overhead in the house that Vincent Catron had remodeled for his mother.
Sartin called her doctor and said she would not be able to undergo her heart surgery as scheduled. She didn't know what would happen, she just knew she had to pack what she could before her things were destroyed by the pelting rain.
In a phone interview, Catron said people were not able to go anywhere because of the debris and closing of streets. Then he had to end the call.
"I've got to go," he said, "my insurance adjuster is here."
With night falling, the lights on the town Christmas tree came on outside the small City Hall. But the sound of hammers disturbed the night, as people lay tarps and wood over damaged roofs.
The governor had come and gone. TV vans lined Main Street, but other parts of the small town were as quiet as on any day.
Power in Aumsville was spotty. Some houses are completely dark while others have holiday lights. Houses with the worst damage were being lighted with floodlights so repair work could continue into the night, with Pacific Power and Light crews working street to street to restore power.
A few blocks away on Main Street, the Red Cross began setting up an overnight shelter at the Mountain View Wesleyan Church. As volunteers set up round tables and brewed coffee, townspeople began to deliver donations of food and water. The gestures, said youth pastor Mike Cline, demonstrated the town's spirit.
The shelter did not anticipate many families needing a place to stay, though, because the community contains many extended families.
"It's a small community where everybody knows everybody," he said. "It's awesome to see everyone coming together."
Larry Bingham, Julie Sullivan, Maxine Bernstein, Lynne Terry, Lynne Palombo, Katy Muldoon, John Killen, Stuart Tomlinson and Ryan Kost of The Oregonian contributed to this story.
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