The Lightning Rod

I have a piece of a big hoary old pine from Stillwater Resevoir in the Adirondacks from the first time I was almost hit by lightning. During a camping trip with the Boy Scouts, we were out in a terrible thunderstorm. The lightning marched across the water and over our campsite to cause that big old pine to explode into arm length shards of sappy heartwood. The thunderclap was tremendous. My ears rang for hours. The air had the tang of ozone and wet smoke from the burst tree. The rain that followed that crack was all encompassing. It was as if the lake was pulled over the shore like a wool blanket. After fifteen minutes, the sun cut through the humid air and mosquitoes whined to let us know the threat had passed. Next to my tent was one of those arm length pieces of pine, stuck point down into the earth, a wooden lightning bolt. I have it to this day with its scorched inner edge and carved "Electric Wood" on the outside flat.

Now, I did say that was the first time I was almost hit by lightning. The second time was a fourth of July in 1995. I was waiting outside of Crossgates Mall for a ride home from work and a thunderstorm blew up. It was great because the day had been hazy, hot and humid and the T-storm drew a nice cold breeze. I stood outside under the large metal framework that dominates the entrances to the mall and watched the lightning strike the Beth Abraham- Jacob Cemetery across Western Ave. The lightning continued to strike closer to me in a straight line. Flash. It hit the movie sign at the entrance to the parking lot, the strike reverberating with thunder, like artillery. Flash. It hit a light post at the edge of the parking lot and set off all the car alarms around it. Flash. It struck the light post closest to the mall in front of me, my vision went purple for a moment. More car alarms. Then lightning hit the entrance frame above me. The people, the smarter than I am people, who were inside the glass of the entrance watching the storm said that my hair extended straight out from my head, like a cartoon cat with a finger in a light socket. My teeth chattered for hours and I could not stop talking, babbling really, for the rest of the night. The air was charged and felt dry and crackling. It was one of the most exhilarating moments of my life.

My friends refuse to stand near me during thunderstorms. I feel like I may have offended Mother Nature somehow or maybe Zeus. It's not like I stand on hilltops wearing aluminum underwear and holding a nine iron to the heavens screaming, "Bring it, Thor!", but I have an amazing appreciation for the power of storms and the beauty that can be illuminated in a single strike.