Relative Something

I have complained previously about how few thunderstorms have moved through my area this summer, but now, after having a few make their way past the invisible barrier of a heat-dome that rises off the most populated city in Minnesota, I have a new complaint. I have yet to be available to witness any of them as they were happening. I’ve been stuck at work inside a building with few windows or inside a movie theater or some other distraction. Last night, I actually benefited from not having the storms hit while I was available.

On pretty short notice, Cyndie and I were invited to join her dad for dinner and a show downtown. Just as we were parking at the restaurant, it began to rain. Fred had offered us two options: park near dinner or park near the theater. We picked dinner and it worked out great. While we ate, it rained, but after we were finished and ready to head to the theater, it had stopped. We were able to enjoy a very nice walk.

During the intermission of our show, we overheard someone mention that it was pouring rain outside. By the time we left the theater, it was no longer raining. We enjoyed another very pleasant summer evening stroll downtown to our car. On the drive home, it rained  hard, off and on. There were a couple of flashes of lightning in the distance, but the storminess was pretty much over.

Luckily, on this night, I missed out on all the storming. Oh, and we ended up getting really fine second-row seats for the show, “Ella” at the Guthrie, even having waited until just that morning to order tickets.

Do you remember what it was like to be a little kid when it was thundering in the night? I would dread the coming peak of storm when the rumbles started in the distance and the intensity slowly increased with time. To this day, I think I feel the same reaction when one booms right overhead, as I did when I was little. As much as I enjoy storms, I could do without that level of intensity. When our children were young, I wanted to somehow encourage them to respect the weather and storms without undue fear. During episodes of dramatic thunder and lightning, I recall propping ourselves in an open window to watch, in a posture of defiance toward the onslaught, sort of demonstrating a “you don’t scare me” attitude. We would rate the lightning flashes with “ooo la la” or “ho hum,” to acknowledge the level of extreme and intense, happening before us.

I’m not sure how defiant toward the storm they were each actually feeling, but they impressed me with their willingness and ability to play along and hang in there with me. I am pretty sure we drew strength from each other. I know I had moments of doubt during some of those charades in the window. It is a lot harder to feel that defiance when all alone in the dark as the storm rolls in.