Thunderstorms vs Cobwebs: A True Story

Southwest Missouri is known for severe weather—tornadoes, hailstorms, and straight-line winds that can strike at almost any time of the year. This year has brought an abundance of storms rolling through our state, sweeping up from Oklahoma and Kansas before tracking eastward. 

After living in the country for more than forty years, I now find myself living in a small town. And when the storm sirens begin to blare and whine, I get a little jumpy. 

 Actually, I get a lot jumpy. 

 As the sirens wail, my nerves shift into high alert. I become a whirlwind of activity, gathering my two cats into their carriers, stuffing necessities into my storm bag, and keeping a close eye on the radar as the storms slowly crawl across the television screen. Those moments always remind me of summer thunderstorms when my brothers and I stayed with our great-grandmother, Ollie. 

Ollie wasn't afraid of storms, but she respected them. Whenever threatening weather approached, she kept the television on and listened carefully to the forecasts. We kids watched and learned from her as she kept flashlights, quilts, and matches ready in the bedroom so she could grab them quickly if it was time to head for the root cellar. 

 While Ollie stayed indoors keeping an eye on the weather, we were usually outside running through the yard. We laughed, screamed, and raced around as the wind whipped through our hair. There was something thrilling about trying to capture the storm's energy in our young bodies as we ran like wild animals in circles around the backyard. 

When Great-Grandma decided it was time to go to the cellar, she'd call for us, and we'd hurry to her side. Sometimes we made the trip in pouring rain. Being the oldest, I always led the way, followed by my brothers, with Ollie bringing up the rear to make sure we reached the cellar safely. It was my job to unlock the cellar door and go down first. 

That's when the trouble began. 

I would unlock the old wooden door and stare into enormous sticky cobwebs stretched across the entrance. The webs billowed in the breeze like silver curtains, blocking the stone steps that disappeared into the damp darkness below. In my imagination, monstrous spiders lurked within them, waiting to leap out and sink their poisonous fangs into us. To my young mind, it was terrifying. 

My brothers would jump up and down, shouting for me to hurry and go down the steps. Ollie stood behind us holding the flashlight and gently coaxing me to brush the webs aside so everyone could get to safety. I wasn't about to break through those orbs of doom. Minutes seemed to pass as rain pelted us, thunder rolled overhead, and lightning flashed much too close for comfort. Finally, with plenty of screaming and protesting, I would force myself through the cobwebs and down those cellar steps. 

Once safely inside the cool, damp cellar, Ollie would light the kerosene lamp with fresh matches while my brothers and I bounced on the ancient spring bed. The earthy smell of the cellar filled the air. Rows of Mason jars lined the shelves, packed with freshly canned fruits and vegetables from her garden. As we waited for the storm to pass, Ollie entertained us with stories and hand shadows dancing across the walls in the flickering glow of the kerosene lamp. Somehow, she always knew when the storm had finally moved on and it was safe for us to return to the house and the fresh air outside. 

As I recall all those trips to the old cellar, I often find myself wondering why I didn't simply unlock the door and let my brothers go down first. Or why didn't we grab a broom so we could knock those icky webs away?  I chuckle at the thought. 

 And then I wonder, if I were faced with the same choice today, would I brave the ominous thunderstorm and stay in the house—or would I head for the cellar and once again face those frightening cobwebs? 

Years later, I inherited that kerosene lamp. It is a Bartlett-Collins glass lamp dating from the late 1930s or early 1940s. The white lamp fount is decorated with fired-on blue swallows and rests on a striking red glass base. Some of these lamps featured blue Scottie dogs, sailing ships, or floral vines. And mine still has its original, fully functional burner. Over the years, I've used it many times whenever thunderstorms knocked out the electricity.

I hope you are staying safe where you live and the storms do not cause damage.