Begone, fear!

As a small child, I was deadly afraid of thunderstorms. Lightning, thunder, hard rain ... they all would force me under the covers and I would get in a fetal position and shake until the storm passed.

I was about eight or 10 when a big thunderstorm approached Sutton and my grandfather, Daddy George, could see that I was getting antsy. He went out the back of the house to the barn and came back with an old oil canvas or tarp and put it on the front porch. The storm got closer and closer and as it was starting to tear up jack close by, he took my hand and said, “Come on.”

Of course, I went. Daddy George said to.

He grabbed the tarp, which was about 12 x 12, and we went off the east side of the porch. He spread the tarp on the clear ground just north of the garden, folded it over even and motioned me to crawl under it. I balked ... so he crawled under it first. A big lightning bolt split the sky and I remember diving under the tarp.

That storm rolled in and Daddy George pulled the tarp tight around. With him holding up the front of the tarp like a canvas porch roof, we watched that storm together. He talked about lightning and thunder and how such a storm was a good way to clean the air and the ground.

From that day on, I have loved thunderstorms and even built a tin roof over a deck outside the bedroom so I can be one with the rain.

And with every rain storm, I spend a little time with Daddy George.