I remember once when I was little, the sky lit up at a backyard barbecue. All talking stopped. No one took a breath. But their lips were moving. I was told that the big people were counting. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi...” Then came the crash, the boom, the rumble. “A mile away,” said an uncle. “A mile and a half,” said a cousin. “At least two miles,” said my dad. It was my first math lesson. By the age of five I understood the speed of sound, the distance of lightning, and yet another quirk of my family.
Fliss Zakaszewska
17/9/2021 12:54:06 pm
Family quirks, beautifully told, Jim. Thanks for the smile.
Pamela Kennedy
17/9/2021 04:14:25 pm
Nice family story, Jim.
Jennifer Duncan
17/9/2021 06:23:46 pm
We used to count ,"one thousand, two thousand...". Thousand is a shorter word than Mississippi so maybe we were miscalculating:)
Sue Clayton
18/9/2021 05:00:56 am
Counting down between thunder and lightning. I still do it to this day.
Jim Woessner
18/9/2021 10:10:01 pm
Thanks all. Yep. I also still count between thunderclap and lightning bolt. Unfortunately, we don't have much in the way of thunderstorms in California. The story happened where I grew up in the Mid-West. Too bad we don't pipe the water out west. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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