I do enjoy a good storm. Something must be wrong with me, but I enjoy the cloud formations, the thunder and lightning show, the rain on our roof, and the ‘fight or flight’ adrenaline rush the coming of a storm brings. But only for so long. After awhile the ‘fight or flight’ adrenaline rush winds down to a anxiousness that is nerve rattling.
Part of it is the teacher in me. I enjoyed studying and teaching meteorology in school. Knowing the hows and whys of weather makes it fascinating to watch. To me, it also indicates the awesome power of God. I remember a storm when we were visiting family in Minnesota. It came in fast. Everyone went down to the basement per tornado safety warnings, except for my brother-in-law (also a teacher) and me. We were on the front porch mesmerized by the green baby-butt shaped clouds covering the sky. Teachers can be strange at times.
During my childhood in Michigan, I had opportunities to experience severe storm weather on different occasions. When my brother D was a toddler, I woke up one night to this horrendous noise. I yelled at my brother to quit playing his toy harmonica. My parents began scrambling to get us all down in the basement. Later I learned that a tornado had passed over our neighborhood.
As a teen, there were 2 more storms that were memorable. One was when my baby sister R was about 6 weeks old. Mom and Dad thought that it would be safe enough to leave the baby with her 4 older siblings for a few hours while they took in a movie. Of course, the weather changed shortly after they left. We were bright enough to turn on the radio to listen for storm warnings. When it was announced that a tornado had touched down about 5 miles from us, we decided we ought to take precautionary measures and head for the basement. We opened windows to equalize air pressure, grabbed the radio, blankets, baby sister and headed downstairs. Brother D grabbed the baby buggy and hauled it down the basement stairs as well. Since we were always told to crawl under something heavy, we collapsed the baby buggy and put it and baby sister under the pool table. We were playing games under the table when first our grandparents, then parents, came rushing down the basement stairs – all in a panic.
“What…?” We had everything under control! Baby sister was even sleeping!
The other storm that I remember also found us kids home alone. (Does it always happen that way?) A storm was progressing when one of us looked out the window and saw whirl winds of dirt rising from the horse pasture to the sky. The horse and ponies were all in a dither. We raced outside (weren’t we smart?!) to rescue the animals and close the truck windows. As I opened the truck door, the wind grabbed it out of my hands and whipped it back against the hood. The hinges broke. My sister D hollered for us all to get back in the house. She always did have more common sense then most.
Yes, I ‘enjoy’ a good storm. A good storm is one that is awesome in display, but not in damage or death. Do we have many of those?