Sunday... We took the boys to see the house today, so they could try to understand and internalize things, they took it pretty well — what good boys I have. We got most of the clothes today and most of the boys' collectibles and toys, then the building department came and said they could see the house visibly shifting and we can no longer go in to get things, so we have our clothes and kitchen things and some other odds and ends, no furniture to speak of, most of it is broken anyway.

But we are all alive and we have each other. We have the most important things and some really powerful guardian angels... Love, Carolyn

That rather vividly puts a distinctly human face on another in a seemingly endless string of natural and man-made disasters in the news, which I generally, in my self-absorption, tune out. Stunned but grateful it wasn't worse, I asked Carolyn if I could quote her letter.

Hey Eric,
It was awful but we are going to be ok. Feel free to print the letter in total and add my name as well. I lost a lot of stuff but, I lost almost all of my Stephen King books and quite a bit of my Alice Cooper stuff ... I know it's only stuff and I can get new, but it hurts to see it all over the yard and blowing down the street. But I am still breathing and I have my children so I am very grateful. Carolyn

Carolyn is among the world's most enduring and fervent Alice Cooper fans.

I know that feeling of seeing your stuff violated, no longer yours. There was a fire in my high-rise dorm 20 years ago when I was in college — my room was gutted and my earthly possessions, including a couple thousand records, were reduced to a stinking gloppy pile of ashy muck, shoveled unceremoniously out the window onto a planter area below by defeated firemen.

For days that glob of my former stuff, my life's accumulated possessions, just sat there freeze-drying in the cold winter sun.

About a week later, as I walked to class about a half-mile away, a strong bitter wind blew an object right into my face. I swore. The offending item was a caricature of the leering face of Groucho Marx on cardboard, the edges charred. With a jolt I realized it was from an album cover, one of MY album covers. I still have it; it still gives off a faint acrid whiff of smoke.

We are very sad this disaster befell our friends, their home and possessions, but very relieved and grateful it wasn't worse. People very nearby — like Crystal Graves, 39, who was sucked from the closet of her Gallatin home where she had taken refuge against the storm and deposited lifeless more than 100 yards away — weren't so lucky.