When Lightning Strikes Very Close To you
Have you ever thought about death by lightning?
I remember, a hundred years ago, when I worked out-of-doors construction. When it came to mid-afternoon all of us workers would periodically glance into the sky in all directions. When we saw some dark clouds in the distance we would mentally will those clouds to come to us. A thunderstorm is legal reason to stop work early!
It was not the delightful cool rain that cut short a work afternoon. It was not the sudden drop in temperature. And it was not the wind. We welcomed those things.
No, it was the lightning — or, perhaps more accurately — the potential danger of lightning.
No crew foreman wanted a dead worker on their conscience. No foreman or company they work for wanted a lawsuit.
Whether you were hammering a shingle in place on the roof of a two-story structure or cleaning out the cement mixer or using a toothbrush to clean the joints in an ashlar pattern of wall stonework you just laid, when thunder crackles across the sky it is an alarm that goes off, saying, “Quittin’ Time!”
It is truly a joyous sound! And it is a little more joyous coming from Mother Nature instead of the freaking boss. I have, on occasion, in the midst of back-breaking menial out-of-doors labor looked up into the sky and, with all my might, willed distant clouds my way in order to end the excruciating day of hard work. Occasionally, I slipped into tiny little snippets of past-lives where I was a slave and I prayed for the overseer’s yelling out of, “Quittin’ Time!” I called out to the Universe to come give me a break.
Way back, a hundred years ago, when I was in third grade I was playing out in the backyard of the family home. I have no earthly idea what kind of play I was involved in but I know that I was playing with my older brother and younger sister. (My mother had not yet plopped out the other younger sister.)
The sky was mostly sunny with only a few random clouds in the sky. They looked a lot like those clouds you see at the beginning of a Simpson’s episode. All the clouds were puffy white ones. There was no gray; no darkness, no looming storm. It was just a regular afternoon of playing in the backyard.
And then, out of the blue, Mother Nature cracked her almighty whip. A sudden bolt of lightning struck the telephone pole at the back of our backyard. At the time I happened to be located no more that 20 feet from the telephone pole.
The energetic blast of the lightning strike threw me immediately to the ground. My older brother and younger sister were at the far opposite end of the yard when the lightning struck. I was the only one near the telephone pole.
A little baffled, I looked up from the ground. I saw my older brother and younger sister across the yard. They were apparently screaming. But I suddenly realized that I could not hear them screaming! I was suddenly rendered deaf by the lightning strike.
I then turned my head and saw our mother come out the back door of the house. She was yelling and screaming (a very normal thing). But I could not hear a single thing our mother was screaming. A tiny jolt of joy raced up my spine.
Despite the auditory silence, I could tell that she was trying to round up her kids and get them inside. I gathered myself up and followed my freaked out siblings into the house.
After about twenty or thirty minutes my sense of hearing slowly returned.
It turned out that the electricity in our home had stopped, no doubt a casualty of the lightning strike. Our mother went to the phone to call for help but the phone had been knocked out, too.
As my hearing slowly returned to normal I went to the back screen-door and looked up to the sky. I almost got killed by lightning but we never received so much as one single drop of rain! How wrong was that?
A hundred years later I was working on a ranch. I was helping the owner fix a score of different problems on the ranch. We were walking back to the barn carrying all sorts of tools when suddenly lightning struck the huge cottonwood tree right next to the barn. We were only about thirty yards away from the lightning strike.
The boss started running and so did I. Soon we were under the roof of the barn. We were quickly safe because lightning cannot penetrate through a rood, right?
“Wow, that is the closest I’ve ever been to a lightning strike,” the boss said once we were under the barn roof.
So I was compelled to tell him the story about when lightning struck just 20 feet away from me back when I was third grade.
We had plenty of time to tell stories because that lightning strike was followed by a torrential cloudburst. I know that both of us were thinking about making a mad dash to the farmhouse from the barn but neither of us made the move. We just stood there in the barn watching the storm
Isn’t it awesome to watch and experience a torrential cloudburst?
With water falling down out of the sky in buckets and with lightning and thunder going off every few seconds, my boss and I stood in that barn connecting like human beings.
The other day I was at work when a thunderstorm struck. As usual when a thunderstorm strikes, business came to a sudden halt. I took the opportunity to take a break. I went outside under the awning in front of the business on the sidewalk. I stood there watching the thunderstorm.
Is there anything more exciting than watching a thunderstorm? Seriously, is there? The energy is so intense and profound. Even if you are not struck by lightning, electricity is coursing throughout your body. You cannot help but be jazzed. It is so exciting!
Well, the thunderstorm eventually stopped and I went back inside to finish out the day.
And then it was time to close up the business for the day.
Everything was shut down and I was leaving the business out the front door when I suddenly realized that yet another thunderstorm was taking place. Before locking everything up I went back inside to procure a cardboard box.
With the cardboard box in hand, I locked up and headed home. I put the cardboard box over my head. To this day I have never owned an umbrella. I don’t know why.
I put the cardboard box over my head and I headed home.
Lightning and thunder were reverberating all around me but I didn’t care. I walked home from work with that silly cardboard box over my head. Not only was my hair and face not touched by the downpour but I was not zapped by lightning.
It is always good to have a roof over one’s head, even if it is only made out of cardboard. The thought of being struck by lightning did not even occur to me as I walked though another robust thunderstorm. The energy I walked through was totally worth being soaked from waist down. The defiance to lightning I felt was utterly profound. Somehow, I experienced a short period of invulnerability.
Imagine being an inmate on death row. You are headed from your cell to the electric chair. Someone, you’re not sure who, is yelling, “Dead man walking!”
Would it not be much better to miss that whole long walk to the electric chair? Would it not be better to be struck by lightning? There is no warning. There is no long walk down that long corridor. Everything ends quickly and there is no thinking involved.
This, of course, throws you right back into a state of vulnerability. You can almost feel the lightning strike you.
But then you get home and you discard the cardboard box — but not before realizing how drenching wet it is. You dry off that part of you that was not directly under the cardboard box. You are not only happy that you survived yet another thunderstorm but you take it as a sign that you just are not finished yet.
Any fear of lightning and thunderstorms you might have dissipate into the wet air. You quickly realize that you are simply not done writing yet. Mother Nature ain’t gonna yell, “quittin’ time” until it really is ‘quittin’ time.’
After fully drying off, you realize that as long as there are cardboard boxes you can keep writing forever. You will be safe. Thank God for cardboard!
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(P.S. Thanks to Gail Boenning for the unintentional prompt.)