Thursday, June 11, 2009
A post about storms, lots of comments about the Holocaust.
The sky above Chinatown in DC, just before 7:00 p.m. last night.
Now that Jake is virtually deaf, I can enjoy thunderstorms again. He was so terrified of them when he was younger that he would try to wedge himself behind the toilet. He shook and panted. The poor thing was wild eyed until long after the storm passed. He could not be consoled no matter how I tried, but usually I tried anyway.
Now he's oblivious, so I'm free to check out stormy weather. Of course I enjoy it from indoors or the back porch. I switch off all electronic devices (since Brother Lightning loves to strike people holding celphones) and just gaze up in wonder at the sky.
Witnessing the storms of the past couple of days, I can't help but think about the parallels between them and me. When I get bent out of shape, I, too get kind of greenish purple. I roil up, become ominous looking. I shoot bolts of lightning out from my fingertips or eyes - or both. I rant and rave in a booming voice, cry a torrent. In fact when I'm angry, I am almost exactly like a big midatlantic thunderstorm, only smaller, definitely not as majestic, and a lot more embarrassed about it afterwards.
We humans are part of the family of nature, no matter how much we like to think of ourselves as separated from it, or above it, or below it. Lightning and thunder are literally my big brothers. Obviously they have been in a hell of a mood the last couple of days! Wow! I can relate brothers, I can relate.
Shadow (the other old dog in the house, the one I tripped over last week) is not deaf and therefore still terrified of thunderstorms. Imagine heavy panting, whining and lots of dog slobber. Poor thing.