|I’m still far from comfortable using this dread machine but it is Wednesday and I’ve decided that Wednesday is going to be my “write the column” day, so here I am.
So far I’ve had to make at least a dozen calls for help from various people for various reasons and I’m sure everyone is wishing my well meaning son had never
sent me something else - anything else.
It’s difficult to think about anything but the weather, which has become downright scary. Thunder and lightening storms have bothered me since childhood.
I always felt happy about living in a part of California where they never happened. Of course we did live right on top of a big earthquake fault and did experience frequent tremors, but I never worried about that.
At one point we moved east to southern New Jersey where thunder storms were not only frequent in the summer, but quite severe. The old childhood fears came back in force.
It didn’t help when one horrible day a big bolt of lightening came down and hit a willow tree and a metal fence in our backyard, right outside the sliding glass
patio doors. During that same storm a friend had lightening strike her refrigerator when she opened the door. Fortunately, it missed her. A few minutes later, a bolt flew in her living room window and flew around the room.
Yesterday, just before the storm came to our town, I phoned my daughter who
informed me that it had hit her town, so we should hang up. Which we did.
Shortly thereafter her place of business was hit by a freaky, severe hailstorm, completely destroying the hundreds of flowers she and several co-workers had planted the week before.
She had been in a hailstorm in Texas. In the aftermath she was able to buy a new car for a song. The hood had been pockmarked by falling hail, but was otherwise sound. This time, her car was OK, but the drains around the building were stopped up by the hundreds of leaves blown off the trees, and there was a foot and a half of water everywhere.
Several years ago there was a hail storm that cut a weird swathe right acoss our town. My house was just about dead center. A quarter of a mile before our place, and a quarter of a mile after there wasn’t a single hail stone. Our vegetable garden was ruined and the trees were all bare.
I’m so neurotic about an electric storm, I unplug everthing in the house while
it’s going on. This elicits a certain amount of scorn from the family, but I don’t care. Just this morning there was an article in the paper about some woman who thought she was safe because she unplugged everything but one lamp. She wanted to read while the storm raged. She had no sooner opened the magazine when lightening hit the lamp. Maybe you think I won’t be reading this to the scoffers in the family.
Last night I tortured myself by watching a program about monster storms on the History channel. It was about over one hundred tornadoes that hit the mid-west
in 1967. Threre were 51 in the Chicago area alone, one of which tore through the city. Making Katrina look like child’s play. On that happy note I went to bed. Wondering how I would be able to get down into the cellar if I had to do it.
Well, I had spent the afternoon watching an old movie, The Great Escape watching Steve McQueen outrun half the Nazi Army by tearing up hill and dwn dale on a motorcycle, even going up and down steps. If I had to, I could probably jump on my electric scooter and ride down the basement stairs to escape a tornado.