Getting Struck By Lightning

It’s totally true I got struck by lightning at Yosemite National Park on July 17, 1971 when I was 17 years old.  So it’s also true about the numerology of “7’s” lining up.  That story, from Day 21, unfolded just as you read about it.  The time of day really was 1700 hours military time (5 p.m.).  To be honest, I’m not sure about the number of stairway steps, but it was “about” 17.  My Uncle Ralph has long since passed away; Aunt Betty, too.  But if you can track down Otto, he’ll confirm it for you.  The bolt must have been pretty thin for me not to have suffered any effects, but I sure remember it clearly . . . a long, jagged bolt extending upward from my forehead into the heavens.  It felt like putting my whole head into an electric outlet. There is no way I should have been out there in the first place.  It was a poor choice on everyone’s part, including my own for acting so cavalier.  Ralph, who had been pushing us to see everything, got a reality check . He was scared that his over-zealousness might’ve gotten me killed.  Otto indeed said, "I thought it was curtains, Roger." Ever since then, I have been wary of lightning storms (can you blame me?)  I don’t want to defy the saying, “Lightning never strikes twice.”