"Girls you better get where your gonna be. There's a storm coming."
That statement was heard a lot during my years living in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. Our house was rather dated and set up that when you came in the front door you were in the living room. You would then go through the kitchen/dining area to get to the bedrooms and the only bathroom. As a matter of fact, I think that house had only the one door. In the kitchen, underneath the window over the sink was an electrical outlet. This outlet became rather unstable in a storm shooting flashes of electricity across the room. It was usually a bluish white stab of jagged flame that would erupt when lightening flashed. So when a storm was coming, we would have to decide if we were going to wait it out in the living room or in our bedroom, because it was strongly recommended that we not venture into the kitchen at that time. I seem to remember usually camping out in the living room and then needing to go to the bathroom (I was only 3 to 5 and not very good at thinking ahead). On several occasions I remember sprinting through the kitchen hoping I didn't get fried on the way to pee. In retrospect, I should have just gone before the storm hit.
"... and if your backpack starts humming or vibrating, put it down and get away from it."
Eighth grade leadership trail hike in the Colorado Rockies lasted a week. Some of my best adolescent memories stem from this trip. I was one of the only ones that did not get altitude sickness (my tent mate looked like she was hit by a truck she had such a bad reaction), never had a hard time processing the dehydrated food and thus was not force feed prunes by our guides, and always seemed to manage a good campsite for my tent, good and level with no rocks. However on one day of the hike I remember that a storm was coming. We had to get to our next campsite regardless, so we got our happy little camper butts hiking up the trail. A storm in the mountains is a magnificent spectacle. The clouds roll and swirl, the wind seems to dart in every direction, and the air feels tense and charged. We were moving at a decent rate wanting to get to the next campsite before the rain if at all possible and I was at the tail end. At some point I noticed that my mouth felt weird. Like I had a bee in mouth. Then I heard a real low sound. It was then that I realized my braces were humming, generating a slight vibration. How odd. After notifying the guide trudging a little ways a head of me, I was instructed to put down my pack and walk off trail about 10 ft or so and lay on the ground until the humming stopped. Took a few minutes but eventually it stopped and I was able to rejoin the group, right at the time it started to rain. So ended my career as a human lightening rod.
"Don't worry. You'll be fine."
Summer before my senior year at high school was spent as a staffer at Camp Jo-Ota in Clarence Missouri. Again a definite high point in my life. Cabin to myself (I was the only girl on staff other than the camp "mom"), access to the pool 24/7, and all the hiking one could want. Set back in the woods before the Missouri hills yielded to the Iowa flats, the camp was secluded and rustic. My cabin sat back in the trees about six feet from the trail that lead to the bath house and mess hall. Dinner one particular night was cut short as the camp "dad" announced that there was a wonderful summer storm approaching and the evening activities were postponed to the next night. We all needed to head to our bunks and lock it down for the night; we would be fine. That was ok with me. I had a great book I was reading and now I would have the time.
The rain was torrential. Thunder and lightening knew no separation. The electricity went out. Book forgotten, hunched up under my covers, I prayed for daylight (that makes no sense now. Lightening is just as scary in the middle of the day as it is in the middle of the night). Now I have never been in a war zone but I have to imagine that the violence of a lightening strike has to compare somewhat to a bomb or missile strike. I do know for sure that there was room for a panicked 17 year old chick under the bed in that cabin. I will never forget the sound of the lightening striking the tree behind my cabin and I will never be able to come close to an accurate description or reproduction of it. But I do know that the tree was not fine.
Lightening rages around me now as I sit on my sofa in my little rental house. I admit that there is a bit of drama when the big flashes illuminate my room and the thunder announces its departure. But I don't care.. there is no one to complain that my squeals are annoying. I realize that I have very little control about whether or not I am struck by lightening, but that does nothing to assuage my fear. I do like watching storms, listening to the rain and even the rumble of the thunder. Lightening at a respectable distance is a beautiful show, just extra emphasis on the "distance". Remind me to tell you the story of the lady who was sitting in a chair by her window watching the storm and was struck by lightening through the window and killed (or never mind.. i just told it). On the bright side though, no outlets are spewing jets of electricity, nothing on me or around me is humming and I have room under my bed to hide if need be. I'll be fine.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
"Girls you better get where your gonna be. There's a storm coming."
That statement was heard a lot during my years living in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. Our house was rather dated and set up that when you came in the front door you were in the living room. You would then go through the kitchen/dining area to get to the bedrooms and the only bathroom. As a matter of fact, I think that house had only the one door. In the kitchen, underneath the window over the sink was an electrical outlet. This outlet became rather unstable in a storm shooting flashes of electricity across the room. It was usually a bluish white stab of jagged flame that would erupt when lightening flashed. So when a storm was coming, we would have to decide if we were going to wait it out in the living room or in our bedroom, because it was strongly recommended that we not venture into the kitchen at that time. I seem to remember usually camping out in the living room and then needing to go to the bathroom (I was only 3 to 5 and not very good at thinking ahead). On several occasions I remember sprinting through the kitchen hoping I didn't get fried on the way to pee. In retrospect, I should have just gone before the storm hit.
"... and if your backpack starts humming or vibrating, put it down and get away from it."
Eighth grade leadership trail hike in the Colorado Rockies lasted a week. Some of my best adolescent memories stem from this trip. I was one of the only ones that did not get altitude sickness (my tent mate looked like she was hit by a truck she had such a bad reaction), never had a hard time processing the dehydrated food and thus was not force feed prunes by our guides, and always seemed to manage a good campsite for my tent, good and level with no rocks. However on one day of the hike I remember that a storm was coming. We had to get to our next campsite regardless, so we got our happy little camper butts hiking up the trail. A storm in the mountains is a magnificent spectacle. The clouds roll and swirl, the wind seems to dart in every direction, and the air feels tense and charged. We were moving at a decent rate wanting to get to the next campsite before the rain if at all possible and I was at the tail end. At some point I noticed that my mouth felt weird. Like I had a bee in mouth. Then I heard a real low sound. It was then that I realized my braces were humming, generating a slight vibration. How odd. After notifying the guide trudging a little ways a head of me, I was instructed to put down my pack and walk off trail about 10 ft or so and lay on the ground until the humming stopped. Took a few minutes but eventually it stopped and I was able to rejoin the group, right at the time it started to rain. So ended my career as a human lightening rod.
"Don't worry. You'll be fine."
Summer before my senior year at high school was spent as a staffer at Camp Jo-Ota in Clarence Missouri. Again a definite high point in my life. Cabin to myself (I was the only girl on staff other than the camp "mom"), access to the pool 24/7, and all the hiking one could want. Set back in the woods before the Missouri hills yielded to the Iowa flats, the camp was secluded and rustic. My cabin sat back in the trees about six feet from the trail that lead to the bath house and mess hall. Dinner one particular night was cut short as the camp "dad" announced that there was a wonderful summer storm approaching and the evening activities were postponed to the next night. We all needed to head to our bunks and lock it down for the night; we would be fine. That was ok with me. I had a great book I was reading and now I would have the time.
The rain was torrential. Thunder and lightening knew no separation. The electricity went out. Book forgotten, hunched up under my covers, I prayed for daylight (that makes no sense now. Lightening is just as scary in the middle of the day as it is in the middle of the night). Now I have never been in a war zone but I have to imagine that the violence of a lightening strike has to compare somewhat to a bomb or missile strike. I do know for sure that there was room for a panicked 17 year old chick under the bed in that cabin. I will never forget the sound of the lightening striking the tree behind my cabin and I will never be able to come close to an accurate description or reproduction of it. But I do know that the tree was not fine.
Lightening rages around me now as I sit on my sofa in my little rental house. I admit that there is a bit of drama when the big flashes illuminate my room and the thunder announces its departure. But I don't care.. there is no one to complain that my squeals are annoying. I realize that I have very little control about whether or not I am struck by lightening, but that does nothing to assuage my fear. I do like watching storms, listening to the rain and even the rumble of the thunder. Lightening at a respectable distance is a beautiful show, just extra emphasis on the "distance". Remind me to tell you the story of the lady who was sitting in a chair by her window watching the storm and was struck by lightening through the window and killed (or never mind.. i just told it). On the bright side though, no outlets are spewing jets of electricity, nothing on me or around me is humming and I have room under my bed to hide if need be. I'll be fine.
That statement was heard a lot during my years living in Poplar Bluff, Missouri. Our house was rather dated and set up that when you came in the front door you were in the living room. You would then go through the kitchen/dining area to get to the bedrooms and the only bathroom. As a matter of fact, I think that house had only the one door. In the kitchen, underneath the window over the sink was an electrical outlet. This outlet became rather unstable in a storm shooting flashes of electricity across the room. It was usually a bluish white stab of jagged flame that would erupt when lightening flashed. So when a storm was coming, we would have to decide if we were going to wait it out in the living room or in our bedroom, because it was strongly recommended that we not venture into the kitchen at that time. I seem to remember usually camping out in the living room and then needing to go to the bathroom (I was only 3 to 5 and not very good at thinking ahead). On several occasions I remember sprinting through the kitchen hoping I didn't get fried on the way to pee. In retrospect, I should have just gone before the storm hit.
"... and if your backpack starts humming or vibrating, put it down and get away from it."
Eighth grade leadership trail hike in the Colorado Rockies lasted a week. Some of my best adolescent memories stem from this trip. I was one of the only ones that did not get altitude sickness (my tent mate looked like she was hit by a truck she had such a bad reaction), never had a hard time processing the dehydrated food and thus was not force feed prunes by our guides, and always seemed to manage a good campsite for my tent, good and level with no rocks. However on one day of the hike I remember that a storm was coming. We had to get to our next campsite regardless, so we got our happy little camper butts hiking up the trail. A storm in the mountains is a magnificent spectacle. The clouds roll and swirl, the wind seems to dart in every direction, and the air feels tense and charged. We were moving at a decent rate wanting to get to the next campsite before the rain if at all possible and I was at the tail end. At some point I noticed that my mouth felt weird. Like I had a bee in mouth. Then I heard a real low sound. It was then that I realized my braces were humming, generating a slight vibration. How odd. After notifying the guide trudging a little ways a head of me, I was instructed to put down my pack and walk off trail about 10 ft or so and lay on the ground until the humming stopped. Took a few minutes but eventually it stopped and I was able to rejoin the group, right at the time it started to rain. So ended my career as a human lightening rod.
"Don't worry. You'll be fine."
Summer before my senior year at high school was spent as a staffer at Camp Jo-Ota in Clarence Missouri. Again a definite high point in my life. Cabin to myself (I was the only girl on staff other than the camp "mom"), access to the pool 24/7, and all the hiking one could want. Set back in the woods before the Missouri hills yielded to the Iowa flats, the camp was secluded and rustic. My cabin sat back in the trees about six feet from the trail that lead to the bath house and mess hall. Dinner one particular night was cut short as the camp "dad" announced that there was a wonderful summer storm approaching and the evening activities were postponed to the next night. We all needed to head to our bunks and lock it down for the night; we would be fine. That was ok with me. I had a great book I was reading and now I would have the time.
The rain was torrential. Thunder and lightening knew no separation. The electricity went out. Book forgotten, hunched up under my covers, I prayed for daylight (that makes no sense now. Lightening is just as scary in the middle of the day as it is in the middle of the night). Now I have never been in a war zone but I have to imagine that the violence of a lightening strike has to compare somewhat to a bomb or missile strike. I do know for sure that there was room for a panicked 17 year old chick under the bed in that cabin. I will never forget the sound of the lightening striking the tree behind my cabin and I will never be able to come close to an accurate description or reproduction of it. But I do know that the tree was not fine.
Lightening rages around me now as I sit on my sofa in my little rental house. I admit that there is a bit of drama when the big flashes illuminate my room and the thunder announces its departure. But I don't care.. there is no one to complain that my squeals are annoying. I realize that I have very little control about whether or not I am struck by lightening, but that does nothing to assuage my fear. I do like watching storms, listening to the rain and even the rumble of the thunder. Lightening at a respectable distance is a beautiful show, just extra emphasis on the "distance". Remind me to tell you the story of the lady who was sitting in a chair by her window watching the storm and was struck by lightening through the window and killed (or never mind.. i just told it). On the bright side though, no outlets are spewing jets of electricity, nothing on me or around me is humming and I have room under my bed to hide if need be. I'll be fine.
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