It's Comin' Up a Cloud : by request

These days, with all the modern marvels of science, it seems to be harder than ever to pinpoint a forecast.

I think that's because the big media groups are forgetting an integral part of their weather prediction arsenal... little old southern pentecostal women.

When I was a child, my brother, my sister and I would spend most of our time at the home of W.C. and Elsie Oval Chrisman... of course WE called them Nanny and Papaw.

We'd spend the days working in the garden and by night time we were too tired to turn on the TV... Even if Nanny had already pointed out the "bank of thunderheads" that were making it look "bad off to the west".

When Nanny noticed these bubbling clouds, it set forth a course of events.

Immediately we would be hurriedly shuffled through the showering process before lightning got close enough to "run in" on us.

While we were showering, Nanny would be in the Kitchen wrapping up some leftover cornbread, some crackers and a big ole hunk of government cheese. (That stuff is SOOOO good)

After we showered, it was off to bed. We always slept with the windows open at night so we could hear any "boogers" that might be lurking... and also because the window unit would "run up the bill"

Just as we had all drifted off to sleep, the curtains would start blowing in... then... that all too familiar flash.

Nanny would creep quietly into all of our rooms and round us up, telling us to whisper so we wouldn't wake Papaw up.

It NEVER failed that on our pitch black journey through the living room my brother, Charles, would kick the coffee table knocking the lid off Nanny's carnival glass candy dish.

"You get them kids back to bed!!! You're making them scared of storms!!!" Papaw would yell from the dark abyss... I assumed it was coming from his room.

Nanny would make us all stop and be quiet for a minute until he fell back asleep... then, the journey began.

We darted out the door and ran across some old boards that Nanny used to make a path across the garden to Granny Tinder's house... all the while, lightning was cracking all around us.

We'd pound on Granny Tinder's door without the slightest fear that we would wake them up... We knew she and Snooks, Nanny's Sister, would already be planning the relay to the storm cellar out back.

Once we got in, we'd line up at the back door to run as a group to the cellar. Then, the phone would ring. "Don't touch that phone, that phone draws lightening" Granny Tinder would say in her gravelly 80 year old voice. I always wondered who would possibly be calling at that time? It was common knowledge that NO ONE in that section of Waldron would go NEAR a phone when it was "coming up a cloud".

Granny, Nanny and Snooks would secure plastic produce bags over their pentecostal buns and around their shoes. Then we'd get Granny to her walker.

WHOOSH! The door flew open, and we were off! We all huddled around Granny as her walker bogged up in the mud.... we knew it would. She would usually abandon it near the old Sycamore tree and just lean on us and we shuffled her toward the cellar.

Nanny would run ahead and open the cellar door. Now I know many of you have been in storm cellars... but I can assure you THIS cellar was unique. It was built by Grandpa Tinder... and it was essentially a hill with a door.

We'd all rush down the stairs and wade through the ankle deep water.... Water that made the cellar "too snaky to play in" according to Nanny... but we didn't think about it as we were fleeing the apocalyptic storm that was baring down on us.

This cellar had old rock walls, a dirt floor (under the water) and boards lined up the edges, supported by cinder blocks to make benches.

Once we got situated, Nanny would light the old kerosene lamps that gave us light... I remember dreading it as that light got brighter... there were so many possible "creepy crawlies" lurking in there... I always expected to see the light reflecting off their red eyes.

One by one, the whole family would arrive to get in the cellar. Nanny would take out the snacks and hand them to us kids... and then the group prayer would start. Granny Tinder never quite understood storms... If we were in the cellar because of a storm in Waldron, Arkansas... she'd be praying for her grand kids in California... that they'd be safe from this terrible storm.

We generally would all stay in there until 15 minutes after the last clap of thunder.

Then we'd go back to Granny's House and fix up the beds so that Nanny, Charles, Donishia and I could stay there... because Papaw ALWAYS locked us out after we left.

Nanny would tell us some stories... "The little red hen"... " The 3 little puggly wugs"... and we'd drift off to sleep.

"rummmmbbbleee!" WAS THAT THUNDER? And the cycle starts again.