Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth

In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.

  • Home
    Home This is where you can find all the blog posts throughout the site.
  • Tags
    Tags Displays a list of tags that have been used in the blog.
  • Bloggers
    Bloggers Search for your favorite blogger from this site.
  • Login
    Login Login form

Heart of the Storm

It may well be my first memory.

I'm laying in the dark screaming, terrified of the thunder that has wakened me. My father comes into the room and scoops me up into his arms.

We're moving. I distinctly remember passing from the darkness of the hall into the light of the kitchen. My mother is saying: Russell, what are you doing? Russell, what are you doing?

He carries me out the back door. Rain is sluicing down. We both must have been soaked through immediately, though I don't remember noticing. Out we go, into the heart of the storm.

In the middle of the yard, he throws open a lawn chair. He sits down, and seats me in his lap.

There I sit, utterly protected, as the rain drenches down and the thunder crashes around us.

The storm passes over, and we watch it moving off. I remember the eerie beauty of the lightning's silent play on the horizon.

Although I have since been within mere feet of a lightning strike, I have never since feared storms; indeed, I became at that moment, and have been ever since, a lover of Thunder.

A few years back I told this story to my father. I thanked him and praised the sagacity of his actions.

He didn't remember any of it. Many of the deepest things that we do, we do in passing.

But that didn't stop him from grinning appreciatively.

“That was a pretty smart thing to do,” he said.



Last modified on
Poet, scholar and storyteller Steven Posch was raised in the hardwood forests of western Pennsylvania by white-tailed deer. (That's the story, anyway.) He emigrated to Paganistan in 1979 and by sheer dint of personality has become one of Lake Country's foremost men-in-black. He is current keeper of the Minnesota Ooser.


  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham Sunday, 19 June 2016

    One of my earliest memories is also of thunder. I was 4, maybe 5 and there was a storm outside. I remember thinking it will pass, and of course it did. I've been aware of the transience of everything around me ever since, which might account for my interest in archeology.

  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch Monday, 20 June 2016

    We've just had a line of destructive storms roll through to the north of us, with (yikes) apple-sized hail.
    Even in the city, where it's easy to (mistakenly) believe that human beings are in charge, He rumbles through and we remember that it just ain't so.
    Eya Thunder!

  • Anthony Gresham
    Anthony Gresham Monday, 20 June 2016

    We had a squall line of thunderstorms blow through here last Thursday. It lest as much damage as some of the hurricanes have. Some folks are sure there must have been a tornado involved, but according to the weather service when the winds hit 70 miles per hour you don't need a tornado or a hurricane.

  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch Tuesday, 21 June 2016

    Yikes. Doesn't know His own strength.

  • Aline "Macha" O'Brien
    Aline "Macha" O'Brien Thursday, 23 June 2016

    I remember dancing and playing in the warm Summer rains in NJ, but not when there was lightning. Our collie used to cower in fear when he heard lightning.

    The fiercest storms I've experienced were in Iowa. I remember my dad kept driving even tho he couldn't really see the road. It was as though the car were a submarine moving underwater. With plenty of thunder and lightning. I do love those storms

    Where I live now we have to worry about winds and fire. There was a fire just yesterday in Cascade Canyon. The terrain isn't very accessible so they dropped firefighters in as well as having some hike up there. It's very near to lots of homes, and extremely dry this season. They got early and extinguished it before it spread far. They were probably sheltered from much of the wind because it's a canyon. Much of Mt. Tamalpais has been closed due to high winds and fire danger.

    To add another sour note: much of our forest land is infested with bark beetles and sudden oak death. There are stands of trees with lots of dead and dying brown trees amidst the healthy ones. We've lost 26 million trees!

    Let's take a hike in Cascade Canyon the next time you're out here. I can walk pretty well now.

  • Steven Posch
    Steven Posch Friday, 24 June 2016

    It's a date.

  • Please login first in order for you to submit comments

Additional information