I like watching them build, I like watching them move in, the wind increasing, the leaves flipped over on trees, the shower curtain of rain that comes across the area as it passes. I love how sometimes thunderstorms break the heat and humidity and there is a smell of fresh air in the breeze that remains when they are gone. Just everything.
When I was growing up, my grandmother was deathly afraid of these types of storms. Even the slightest rumble in the distance brought her muttering some Italian phrase evoking some saint to protect us. I have a friend whose dog was so deathly afraid of the storms that at first rumble he would rap himself around the toilet and whimper until it was over. They even got him tranquilizers, yes, doggie downers, to try and help him with little success.
As a kid, I don’t think I was very afraid, preferring to see, listen and enjoy the storm. When I had my own family I tried to instill a sense of wonder and respect. Often we would sit on the covered back porch watching a storm move in and didn’t go inside until the cracks were right upon us. To this day I believe that both CollegeBoy and MillieJupiter enjoy storms, except when the internet or electricity goes out. Priorities people, please!
Now my close encounter story. When I was a young teen, every summer we went to vacation day camp done by NYC in some public schools (I will do a post about that experience soon). It was hot and muggy in the city but the camp gave us a place to go and recreate while being supervised. Each afternoon meant softball out in the cement schoolyard field. We played hours of softball each and every summer. What better life for a kid, huh? Anyway, one afternoon a storm was obviously moving in. Dark clouds, winds blowing dust around, heavy feeling in the air. We kept playing until some raindrops began to fall and the adult watching us stopped the game, had us gather the equipment and head back for the school. We had just started the 150 foot trek back when suddenly a bolt of lightning struck the fence pole surrounding the field. We were in a group, maybe 30 feet from the pole and after a second of awestruck silence, mouths agape, the group en masse, sprinted for the school building. (This reminds me of the adage – if your group is attacked by a bear in the woods, you do not have to be the fastest runner, just not the slowest…) Once inside we watched the storm for a while but no other strikes came close to us, the fence, or the school. Later that afternoon in the drying sun, a group of us went back to look at the fence. The paint was all gone or blistered for about 12 inches of the pole top, steel shining through, but no other poles were like that at all. A close call for sure. I can see the NY Post headline: “Parent sue NYC Board of Ed for letting kids play in the rain!” I could have been famous.
I understand lightning in New Mexico can be spectacular. I am so looking forward to watching storms develop there.
(Lightning over Las Cruces / Google image)
4 comments:
Organ, NM is one of the most struck by lightning places in the world. There is nothing as awesome as watching storms move in from the west up on the east mesa of Las Cruces
There are some amazing NM storm photos at the Day of Enchantment Photo Contest. And, yes, Beez and I have seen as many as seven thunderstorms off in the distance while sitting up on the east mesa of Las Cruces.
Love your stories, Pat. Our family always headed out to the porch in NH during thunderstorms, but Beez always stayed out the longest, with me muttering about the danger from the safety of the dining room. And your Italian relatives sound just like his--we must do an Italian supper when you get here and swap stories.
sent you guys a funny newspaper article about growing up in an Italian family...
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