I awoke on the couch during a thunderstorm the other night. Lately I can’t seem to make it to bed before I close my eyes, so this has become an unfortunate habit of late; minus the thunderstorm. This was the first thunderstorm we’ve had this spring and it reminded me of a new fear that my mind created only last summer.
One morning, on Preston and Steve on Philadelphia’s WMMR morning show, their topic was related to people being struck by lightning. A conversation like this likely resulted from a news story about a survival or death from such an event. Regardless, callers quickly filled the airwaves with personal accounts of being struck by lightning or what they’ve heard it’s like, etc.
I’m quite familiar with lightning; my Dad is a Weather Channel junkie. Though most people, before smart phones and the internet, would turn on the twenty-four hour weather broadcast to get a quick update, Dad would watch for what felt like hours. Either he was hoping something would change or he missed his calling as a forecaster. It reminded me of when people would constantly open the refrigerator, hoping something of interest would appear out the air, even though the stock was thoroughly evaluated five minutes prior. Anyway, the Weather Channel fascination was before they had weather related shows to fill time as well, so imagine boring and looped information. Needless to say though, lightning was the grand-daddy of weather events for Dad.
Mom called Dad “Ben Franklin” because despite his knowledge about impending thunderstorms, whether the notification came from the Weather Channel or from the cracks of thunder out the window, Dad was also a compulsive pool skimmer. There’s Dad again, walking the rim of the pool with the metal poled skimmer, making sure there aren’t pine needles congregating on the surface. Though we eventually got him to stop doing this prior to it killing him, his favorite spot during a thunderstorm is on the patio, watching or snoozing on the lounge chair, in a nice accessible metal patio.
So the fear I had of thunderstorms, was only for my Dad. I never feared that I would be struck; until last summer. Preston and Steve brought up how victims of strikes would feel Continue reading