Bob, Connie and I were talking about the stories told about the tornado. Connie said she was surprised no one talked about the hail storm a few days following the tornado. Connie and I was in the trailer home when sister Maxine called from her home in Ft. Smith to tell us to leave as fast as we could to get to her house as there was another storm on its way. We got in the car as fast as we could, got as far as where Tommy Bashams building is now when it started hailing. It hailed so hard I stopped the car. Connie got down on the floorboard of the car and started crying and asked if it cost anything to go to Little Rock to the Insane Asylum. She had had about all she could take. A few days before the hail storm, Greenwood had a flash flood. Water covered the highway both east and west and one could not get into town from any direction. I looked out the window of the trailer and what did I see? The floor of a living room with couch and all floating behind the trailer. No walls, only the floor and furniture. The water was so high there were wet spots on the carpet of the trailer. I expected to go floating off any time. Indeed I was scared as scared as Connie was in the hail storm. I, too, began to think of Little Rock. As Frank was working in Texarkana and Bobby was in Fayetteville that left Connie and I living behind the “bombed out Court House” by ourselves. Everything around us was gone—stores, neighbors…just the two of us. Was I scared? Not really. Would I do it again? NO way. I can still hear the sound of the venetian blinds hanging in the broken out windows of the Court House rattling every time there was a breeze. Talk about a haunting sound. The thought gives me the creeps. As the bathrooms in the trailer had yet to be hooked up to the septic tank when Connie and I started living in it we used the toilet in the Court House as it still flushed. One night when we were over there we could hear someone walking in the water. There was still a lot of water on the floor from the storm. Needless to say I got help getting our trailer hooked to the septic tank ASAP as Connie and I had been through the tornado, flash flood and hail storm. We had lost feelings of any kind although we built back on the same lot a pretty brick house but it was never really home. The house that blew away was built by Frank and his Dad. It was built as I have always said, a board at a time as we could afford it. We moved into it before we had facing on the windows. It was OUR home. We had just had thirty more feet built on to the house. I had my dream kitchen with cabinets built by the late Bud Jones. I tell people even after fifty years. I still look for something I know I had. I have to stop and think did I have it BT or AT (Before or after tornado.) Although I have been blessed in so many ways even after fifty years I still miss HOME. “It takes a lot of living in a house to make a house a home.” We raised our family in the house we had built! Our old house was HOME.