Wasn't That A Mighty Storm

You know that tune Wasn't That A Mighty Storm? It's on that great Nanci Griffith compilation CD Other Voices, Too. It either is or isn't about "the very famous 1900 Galveston hurricane, which (as of 2010) remains the deadliest natural disaster in United States history, responsible for an estimated 6,000 to 12,000 fatalities".*

Imagine that?

Anyway.

I love that tune, and can't look at these photos without humming it, without singing it, without belting it out to all the universe.

The day began, as many happy, joyful, sunny, summer days do, at Ocean Beach Park, in scenic and festive New London, Connecticut.

Jacquie's kids and their Uncle Schleckah took a walk to the rocks, as they do every year, for their obligatory annual photo shoot.

They really are the most adorable young 'uns on the planet, and in this next photo you can tell exactly what they're going to look like as teenagers.

Good luck with that, Jacquie.

The young 'uns even got into the act this year, and took photos of eachother with their Uncle Mistah . . .

Really, they are Goobers for the Ages.

Obligatory Mistah Schleckah nature shot.

And then, back on the beach . . .

"Look! Over there!"

"Where?!"

"Mom. That striped bass was This Big."*

*she was right.

We had a great day. We swam, we frolicked . . .

. . . we played Swim After The Ball . . .

. . . we had fabulous visitors . . .

(See that cloud over Michelle's head? That's foreshadowing.)

. . . and we had, as ever, Ol' Ledgie watching over us.

And then we packed up so I could kick some young 'un butt in Putt-Putt.

(See that cloud in the background? That's more foreshadowing.)

We got clubs, we got five different colored balls, we started playing, I started kicking young 'un butt, and then we looked to the west, and saw lightning slicing apart a deep dark black cloud.

Apparently mini-golf courses don't have lightning sirens.

We ran to the booth boy and returned our accoutrement and got our money back, and we ran to the Westy, and we raced to Pequot Avenue to watch the action unfold.

And this is the action that unfolded:

Oh yes, that's little Ledgie Light out there, with the Big Daddy of storm clouds hanging over her, er him*.

*After all this time we're still not sure.

The San Diegans loved it . . .

. . . well, sort of . . .

. . . well, mostly . . .

The San Diegans are an odd, odd people.

We hung out in the Westy on Pequot Ave, enjoying the proceedings, watching the Storm of the Century.

It got very, very dark.

But we were filled with light and joy and, you know, Peace, inside.

Sigh.

But in the meantime:

Wasn't that a mighty storm
Wasn't that a mighty storm in the morning, well
Wasn't that a mighty storm
That blew all the people away

Rain it was a' falling
Thunder began to roll
Lightning flashed like hell fire
The wind began to blow
Death the cruel master
When the wind to blow
Rode in on a team of horses
I cried,"Death, won't you let me go"

Hey, now trees fell on the island
And the houses give way
Some they strained and drowned
Some died in most every way
And the sea began to rolling
And the ships they could not stand
And I heard a captain crying
"God save a drowning man"

Wasn't that a mighty storm
Wasn't that a mighty storm in the morning, well
Wasn't that a mighty storm
That blew all the people away