Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber Photo property of Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G.Barber
Posted by Wayne G.Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G.Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G.Barber
Today’s this scribe recalls alot of memories of thunderstorms from my youth and into the present, but I will recount only one today. One of floating the Chepachet River into Gildrens Pond on an inner tube.
That was our Summer sport if you can call it a sport. Everyone knows what an inner tube is, right? It was (and still sometimes is) the inner liner of a truck tire. But you can blow one up and it keeps you from sinking in water, right? Ours were a bit different. You see, my dad worked at a Ford dealership. They had big trucks with tires and tubes to match from maintaining the Stillwater Worsted Ford Fleet of trucks. He would bring a few of these home with him. Many would have multiple holes but with concerted effort we could make a slingshot or patch them up enough to hold a little air.
The threat of a thunderstorm never scared us and most of the time we were barefoot with the water surging between our toes. Snakes and hornets often dwelt amongst the limbs of the trees overhanging the riverbank. Other local bullies would be throwing rocks sometimes followed us downstream. Fishermen, like Gene Gaucher and Joe ( Pout) Deptula confounded by their lack of luck blamed us for disturbing the water cussed us and cast in our direction. All this and more convinced us to maintain our course in the middle of the river. In the middle where we were the highest point.
We were insulated, right? Electricity follows the path of least resistance, right? What to do? Do we paddle ten minutes to shore and face the possibility of lightning striking the very tree we seek shelter under?
That’s was sixty-some years ago and I don’t still know the answer. We chose to stay the course. Rather than endure the cold rain of a summer thunderstorm we would bail off the tube, swim under and poke our heads up through the hole. Could lightning have struck us out there in such an exposed position? I don’t know! But, it didn’t! Some of our number have since departed Earth’s travails but none by lightning strike.” Adapted from a story by a Blind Pig
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
Posted by Wayne G. Barber
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