Last week, loud thunderstorms rumbled through town for over twelve hours. For me, this was a treat; it’s rare to hear thunder or see lightning in Seattle. As my house rattled and the lights flickered on and off, as winds sent my rooster weather vane spinning, and heavy rains (and hail!) pounded the roof and bricks, I laid in bed with my cat Vanya Mandelstam and thought of the old days in Virginia when, as a little boy, I’d enjoy a good electric storm from the safety of a shed at my Aunt Lois’s house. Her home was next to fields and woods and in summer I had a good view as lightning flashed through hay or corn or pine trees. It was a sensational experience. As the storm strengthened, I would feel physically elated, jolted to life, as if I had just put a whole lemon in my mouth and bit down — my tongue would tingle, my throat would constrict; a flash of bitterness would travel through the roof of my mouth into my brain and I’d feel as if I had been scalped…the top of my head became numb.
When I described these feelings to a friend, she said: “Are you sure you weren’t struck by lightning?” I don’t think so, but the shed DID have a tin roof. ..
