Some of you may have read my Sunday column about Alexandra Lysik talking about how it’s never too soon to be prepared for hurricane or tropical storm season.
“The better you prepare,” Lysik, who is owner of Cavik Insurance, told us August 5 during a Greater Fayetteville Success Luncheon, “the better off you’ll be.”
Lysik was reminding us about how a hurricane or storm with its rain and gale-force winds can damage your property, leaving fallen trees, water damage, and homeowners searching their home insurance policies to see what and what’s not covered.
What Lysik didn’t mention was a microburst.
A microburst isn’t a hurricane. It’s not a tornado. It’s quick and brief, but it can do plenty of damage.
I’m the victim of a microburst, and it happened on June 19, 2015.
“Hate to tell you this, buddy, but you got trees in your front yard down, trees in your backyard down and a tree fell on our power lines,” Scott Tope, my neighbor, texted me in Richmond, Virginia, where I was with friends for the weekend. “You can’t even drive in your driveway.”
I called two friends, asking if they would survey the damage.
Their news wasn’t good.
“We’re here, but we can’t get to your house,” one texted. “There’s a fire truck in front of your house, and everything on your street is dark. There is a police car blocking the street and firefighters and utility people are in front of your house, and all they know is that a tree has fallen … and it’s bad.”
I returned home the following Sunday and held my breath turning onto Arlington Avenue.
“Bad” would be an understatement.
This apparently angry microburst had toppled a tall pine tree across the street, which fell into my driveway, taking the power lines with it. Four more trees were down in the backyard, including a 40-inch in circumference oak ripped from the earth, and precariously leaning toward my neighbor’s house.
I wasn’t alone in my disbelief.
Just up the street, you could see an oak tree laying on Sam Edge’s home, and his back porch was caved in. On the other end of Arlington, you could see two trees on Lois Condlin’s roof, and there were eight pines splintered in her vast back yard.
“It looked like a war zone through here,” Lois Condlin’s daughter said. “A mini-war zone.”
Norman and Julia Snellgrove wondered how the wind could take down a red-brick wall at their rental property home across the street from Lois Condlin.
‘Better You Than Me’
Bad news travels fast, and we had our share of curious folks slowly driving past our homes and looking at the microburst carnage with that “better you than me” look in their eyes. But it was us, and along Arlington Avenue, we had a mess.
Lois Condlin had a tree removal crew out of Lee County removing her fallen trees on the following Monday.
“Do you want me to send them down to your house?” she asked.
Wayne Lett was owner of the tree service removal. He came to survey my damage, and the look on his face said it all.
“We’ll be here, Mr. Kirby, at 7 a.m. on Tuesday morning,” he said. “That oak leaning in the back yard has got to come down, and you are my priority.”
Lett and his nine-member crew were there the following day with four dump trucks, two skid-steer loaders, a chipper, and a cherry-picker. There were ropes, cables and the sounds of chain saws, and those once mighty trees were coming down piece by piece.
Epilogue
We’re good neighbors to one another. We throw up our hands and wave to one another and keep our eyes out for homes when folks are on vacation or out of town for a weekend. It’s the neighborly way to be.
But that microburst of June 19, 2025, was something we didn’t see coming. A microburst passes through without warning, and along Arlington Avenue, Sam Edge and Lois Condlin can tell you all about the damage one can do to your property. And I can, too.
Bill Kirby Jr. can be reached at billkirby49@gmail.com or 910-624-1961.
