My Personal History with Thunderstorms

As I write this the sky is prematurely black as the result of yet another passing Thunderstorm. As I've written before, this appears to be the summer of the Thunderstorm here in Southern Ontario and Meteorologists are expecting the trend to continue. I enjoy a good thunderbanger as much as the next person but I'm ready to say enuf! A large mature tree was struck and spit in sprawling pieces overnight just a couple days ago right here in Oakville and the same storm left hundreds of thousands without power across Ontario.

I have a personal historical attachment to this weather phenomenon that goes back 57 years to the week before my birth in rural Lunenburg County, Nova Scotia. Apparently that was a bad summer for thunderstorms as well and about a week before the big day a massive storm blew through. It struck the birch tree that anchored the gate leading to the pasture behind the barn and followed the wires up to the driving shed in corner of which was a large pile of birch bark destined to become winter tinder. Alas the ensuing fire was fought by my father who ran to the barn well to get water and in his headlong effort to save his property struck his foot and broke his big toe, which foot I wasn't around to have remembered; but the remains of that birch tree remained in place throughout my childhood years.

During the same storm lightening struck the battery operated radio antenna, which had prudently been disconnected; but a ball of lightening exploded inside the house feet from my mother who was seated in the same room. A week later I was born. I've always gotten a charge out of watching a good thunderstorm and have always assumed that affinity began in the womb. Just for the record the big day was Friday at noon, July 29, 1949.