So it looks like Ridge inherited more than his love of farm equipment and basketball from my mom. Well, I guess he could've just as easily gotten that from Rowdy, too. But, that's besides the point.
My mother, Radar Rhonda, and her sister, Forewarn Janet, are like cats on a hot tin roof when the weather turns dark and loud. When the clouds are still cruising over Wichita Falls, Texas, or somewhere in between, these two have the skinny. By the time they are rolling on Western Oklahoma, they are buzzing around like day stock traders, a phone stuck to each ear while flailing their hands about like air-traffic controllers. One watching Gary England and the other watches that balding frat boy on KFOR and the swap information back and forth. And now my grandmother, the most experienced meteorologist of the storm chasers, has some weather walkie talkie that picks up the going ons of several countries. Needless to say, if one raindrop falls from Erick to Weatherford, they know about it. I joke about this at their expense, but in all honesty, if I am concerned with my safety, I know the Tornado Trio will tell me what should hit and when.
I bring all this up to set a historical and hysterical context for a conversation Ridge had on my barely-functioning phone with his Auntie Lyndi. Since she and I talk on the phone literally daily, these two also have frequent convos. Lyndi will be a temporary Western Oklahomans next week, so we were making plans for that. About that time, Ridge came walking through the kitchen and Lyndi requested him. I think she was hoping to talk about her upcoming sleepover and food and movie bonanza, but that is not at all what Ridge wanted to discuss.
Somehow he knew that increment weather would soon be upon us or, in the very least, he nailed down a really lucky guess. All I could hear was this end of the talking, but here's how it went.
Ridge: "Aunt Wyndi, you can't stand by the windows if the rain starts hitting on it."
Silence, where I suppose Lyndi was responding.
Ridge: "If the rain hits your windows and then there's the lightening, you have to go get in the closet and shut the door. SHUT THE DOOR, AUNT WYNDI!"
(Ridge's grandma's safe room is in her closet.)
Silence again, more muted questions from Lyndi.
Ridge: "You HAVE to go. The rains will hurt you and break you......I love you."
Just as quickly as he spouted off his orders of safety, he handed the tattered phone back to me. I think Lyndi was still talking to him when I got back on the phone. Of course she hadn't caught all Ridge's cautionary tale, so I filled her in what she missed and what it meant. So, it looks like he will be a storm safety advocate like his NaNa. Hey, I think there's a ring to Radar Ridge.
Oh, you can still donate to Lyndi's fundraiser for leukemia, lymphoma, myeloma and other blood cancers. The full story is in the older posts, but a link remains at the bottom of this page.