Update: August 28, 2009 — The debris has been cleaned up. Only a few residents remain in Picher. The City offices have closed.
One Sunday morning I decided to take a day-trip into northeast Oklahoma to visit the small mining town of Picher. Picher was nearly destroyed by an F4 tornado that touched down on May 10, 2008, leaving the town a mass of splintered lumber, crushed automobiles, and shattered 
dreams. It also left 6 Picher residents dead.
A little history.
The zinc and lead mining in Picher began in the late 1800’s and continued until the early 1970’s, when the mines were finally shut down. The pumps that kept the mines from filling up with water were also shut down, and the mine owners walked away. It wasn’t long until the mines began filling with water. By 1979, the mines were full of polluted water.
Water from the mines began leaching into the aquifer and Tar Creek. Mine dust from the massive chat piles (the waste produced from the mining operation) coated the area, creating an environmental catastrophe, and the largest Super Fund clean-up in U.S. history. It’s estimated that between $500 million and $750 million has been spent so far.
The children of Picher were the first casualties. Plagued with learning disabilities and developmental issues, blood tests were ordered and the results were heartbreaking. The children were suffering from lead poisoning. The Super Fund began buying residences of those families who had small children, the most susceptible to lead poisoning, and moved them to other towns out of the Tar Creek area.
As families moved out of Picher, businesses had no choice but to close their doors. A town that once had a population of over 20,000 in the mining days, had less than 500 families calling Picher home. Even before the tornado, Picher was dying.
Although some residents vow to remain in their homes and in Picher, when the tornado struck many of the remaining families knew it was the end. 
They wouldn’t be able to re-build. They had no choice but to try and come to a buy-out agreement and move to other towns.
I walked down the streets in the damage path, taking some photographs of the destruction. Unlike the Greensburg tornado that destroyed that town in 2007, there wasn’t any activity. No FEMA trailers for temporary housing. No Red Cross. No clean-up crews. No re-building. Eerily, the area looked much like it did immediately following the tornado — destruction for as far as I could see.
While taking photographs of the lone remaining wall of a house, a plastic American flag fastened to it as a reminder, a man in a pick-up truck stopped me. He asked, “Do you think they’ll rebuild?” I just shook my head “no”. He went on to explain that his daughter was entering her senior year at the high school in Picher and he hoped they’d go ahead and have school there this year. That’s important to her. She’d been attending Picher schools all her life. We talked for a few minutes and he wished me a good day.
As the man drove away, I visually panned the destruction and I think at that very moment is when the reality of Picher’s future hit me.
I left the damage path and drove through the part of town not directly affected by the tornado and saw the remaining homes and businesses in a state of severe decay. The soccer field once bustling with rowdy soccer teams, their parents sitting in the bleachers cheering them on, was now full of four-foot tall weeds, not children.
Buildings that Picher families once called home now sit empty. Windows broken, siding falling off, no life. On one of the side streets I found a church. You could almost hear the singing of hymns coming from the doors and windows on a warm Sunday morning, filling the street with hope. Now it stands silent.
As a storm chaser, I’ve toured towns ravaged by tornadoes before. But the tour of Picher affected me like no other tour has. Usually, I can walk away still seeing hope in the lives of those the storm had touched. In the long run, the families would be okay. They’d re-build. They’d be back and become a closer, better community. But this time the reality is that Picher is gone, forever.
My thoughts and prayers are with all storm victims, but from this day forward, the people of Picher will have a special place in my heart.
To the people of Picher, for the delayed actions of our government, I’m sorry. For our inability to save your homes and your legacy for your children and your grandchildren, I am truly sorry. But, for you — each of you — I do have a tremendous amount of hope. So, wherever you are living now, please become a part of your new community and share with your new neighbors the small town values Picher has taught you. Let’s face it, all of our communities need that.