Living in a Quiet Place During Storm Season

It's severe storm season here in Minnesota, and while other areas of the state have experienced tornadoes, strong wind, floods and such, nothing at all like that has happened here at our little place in the state. We've had a couple of thunderstorms, but they were mild things. The weather sirens have not gone off (except for the first Wednesday of the month at 1:00 p.m.). The poor guy across the street has only sat out in his garage once. It was before dawn to watch the latest fizzle pass through. He likes to sit in his garage and watch the truly strong storms pass through. Personally, I think he's nuts. But then I walked out last year and collected a bowl of hail to bring in and show Spouse and Son. Like they'd never seen hail before. Did you know that being struck by a piece of hail just slightly smaller in size than a Hershey's Kiss hurts like h*ll? Well, duh to me. We just recently took the bowl out of the freezer and let the ice melt. It had all kind of globbed into one giant ice cube anyway.

The Old House used to stand in the middle of Thunderstorm Alley. It seemed if there was a major storm anywhere in the state it took a straight course for The Old House. It must have been built by the finest craftsmen in the world, for rickety as it seemed, even the shingles never blew off. Trees fell all around it. Mighty oaks, standing guard, cracked off at their base, or were torn up by the roots. But The Old House always stood. It took Daddy's clumbsiness to burn it down.

There was no real safe place to go during a storm at The Old House. Unlike this house. The utility room is about as safe from a storm as one could hope for. But The Old House had no such safe havens. The basement was filled with poisonous gas. We didn't know it at the time, but it was also damp, musty, and incredibly creepy. NOBODY wanted to be down there in the dark. Fifty to one hundred yards away was the root cellar. It was a structure built into the side of a hill. It was rectangular in shape. Four cinder block walls and a wooden roof. A chimney in the center. Dirt floor. It wasn't exactly a thrill to be in there, either, but often we kids were sent there for our safety.

Still recall the time Judayl was in the bath when a major storm hit. We had no sirens back then. Everything was gauged on senses: sight, sound, smell (yes, you can smell a storm coming), and sixth. When a big oak tree in the front yard toppled Lynahr screamed for Judayl to get out so we could all rush to the root cellar. Judayl came out wrapped in a towel and clinging her clothes. I had to stand outside while she got dressed. Hail hurt just as bad back then. And Judayl wasn't one of those "get the clothes on and you're done" kind of people. Have no idea what she did, but it always took her forever to get dressed. So by the time they opened the door to let me in, the worst was over and we could return to the house. Got to see a lot of flying debris first hand.

We were often out in storms back then. Without a true safe place to be it became the stirred ants' nest every time there was a threat of tornado. Our decisions never made any sense at all. Even at the time.

The year before The Old House burned a major storm struck on Helvie's birthday. We were having a family party and Mickey and Lynahr were home with their spouses. It was night. The storm began to rage and the house began to shake. Fearing the house was about to be blown apart Mother cried that we had to get out. So everybody ran out of the house. In our added brilliance we decided that sitting in cars would be safe, so we all piled into three cars to wait out the storm.

Then Mother saw the shed which housed our chickens. The frequent lightning flashes lit up the yard better than the yard light - which seldom worked. She gave me the order. "Bevie, go nail up that rug again so the rain can't get in at the chickens."

Dutifullly, I went. I raced as fast as I could through the downpour. No hail this time, but the rain was coming down so heavy it felt like hail on my face. I got to the shed and looked inside. The chickens were huddled against the far wall. I rehung the rug and turned to run back to the car. I could see everyone waving at me. And then it happened.

One minute I had my eyes focused on the car. The next I was staring up into a black sky. Then I landed with a thud. The water was halfway up my body. That's how hard it was raining. I lay there stunned. I had run into something. Looking, I saw it was the d*amn guidewire on the utility pole. It had caught me right across my neck and down across my chest. I got up. I was one hundred percent wet now. Looking at the cars I saw everyone was laughing hysterically. No need to return to that. I went into the house.

Turns out the reason they had all been waving at me was because the rug had fallen again. They made Gayanne go out and fix it. Within minutes everyone was back in the house. The house still shook, but not so bad. The storm was passing. I became the focus of everyone's laughter for the rest of the evening.

Sometimes I miss the storms. There is something exciting about them. I know they're dangerous. People get injured and killed from storms all through the summer. But, like the neighbor who likes to sit in his garage and watch them, there is this urge which beckons us to get out and experience the storm with our skin.

It hurts, you know. Especially if there's hail.