For the past week, weather forecasters throughout the northern midwest have been predicting a monster winter storm for Christmas Eve and day.  They say it is reminiscent of the infamous Halloween Blizzard of 1991.  My dad, who prides himself on mastering the feel of the winds, has also made a weather prediction.

Sitting at the kitchen table gobbling up forkfuls of pizza he tells me about the impending storm, “I went down to the lake and I know-this one is going to be fierce!” he says shaking his fork in my face for emphasis.  “I felt it in the wind,” he says his eyes bulging out of their sockets .

Mom giggles in the kitchen, “he can feel it in his bones!”

Dad seems bound and determined to prove his powers. 

“I know!” he shouts in desperation, “I was in the Edmund Fitzgerald storm!”

Mom convulses with laughter, “I thought you were going to say you were the sole survivor!”

“I was the sole survivor!” dad shouts and mom’s laughter turns to cries. “I almost froze to death!”

“I was getting a ride home and the storm was so bad they couldn’t take me all the way so they dropped me off on the side of the road.  I was wearing cowboy boots and trying to fight the wind. I kept falling in the drifts.  I almost gave up. ”

I hardly see how this near-death experience elevated him to master meteorologist, but I humor him just the same.