Now, here's more of the story. After receiving that bolt out of the blue on demand, I was convinced that I had a special connection up above. And while I did use that notion to try to scare my older brothers, the real story was that I was petrified the Good Lord might have one of those waiting for me if I did anything wrong. Don't know why I felt that way, I just did.

A week or so after that July storm, another thunderstorm rolled through our neighborhood. Suddenly, those warnings from my mother not to hold anything made of metal during a storm, knives, forks, toy trucks, became the prime directive. Almost to the point of panic I made sure no one was holding anything. I moved as far from the windows as I could . In our row home, no place was very far from the windows, though. I held my breath waiting for the simultaneous flash and crash of a nearby strike. I remember flinching with every rumble of thunder. From that day forward, my fear continued to build. It got to a point where dark clouds would trigger feelings of dread. And on those few occasions I was away from home when a thunderstorm approached, it was a full blown anxiety attack.

When school resumed in September my phobia was well established. Dark clouds caused real stomach aches, fear and trembling. That resulted in numerous and predictable trips to the nurse's office. Seven year old Doug was not a happy camper. Teachers soon caught on. I remember coming back to the classroom some days after lunch to find my desk had been moved. Other times the curtains would be drawn over the windows. And these were those heavy, black WW II curtains used for blackouts. I lived in that world of fear until 3rd grade. One afternoon, when the panic was setting in and I wanted to go to see the nurse, the teacher said no. I remember Mrs. Dashiell calling me up front to read to the class. I read for a long time. I was aware of the storm outside but did not feel the panic any longer. By the time I left school it was sunny and warm. When I got home from school my mother asked me if anything  had happened in school. She already knew the answer. As I found out much later, Mrs. Dashiell had called my mother during lunch to discuss my phobia. They had hatched the diversionary plan. My mother volunteered that I really liked to read out loud like a newsman. So as the storm approached, the plan was engaged. That night, just by coincidence my father came home from work with a couple of books about the weather. And the healing was underway.

Don't get me wrong. I still do not like thunderstorms and it wasn't a sudden cure, but knowledge is power,as the saying goes. The more I learned, the less I feared. And I learned a lot. In fact, the learning has continued for the past 50 years.