I can laugh about it now
As I sat at my home computer and pondered on what to write about, the sky darkened and lightning flashes and roaring thunder foretold yet another storm. I glanced at the calendar, and the only important date that came to view was my wedding anniversary, then I realized that just two days earlier another event occurred that I will also never forget. This Saturday is the 43rd anniversary of the day I was struck by lightning.
Yes, I was struck by lightning on June 6, 1966. When the subject comes up, and I tell friends that I was struck by lightning, they laugh and say, “Get serious.”
Even I laugh about it now, but back then I wondered if I would see my 21st birthday.
How did it happen? Where did it happen?
How? Just the forces of nature, I guess. Where? On a golf course in Wellsburg, W.Va.
I haven’t returned there since that day, but I believe it was called Wellsburg Golf Course.
The course was on the Pennsylvania-West Virginia border with about one-third of the holes in Pennsylvania, and the remainder of the holes and the clubhouse in West Virginia.
My Uncle, Bob Zundel, with whom I played a lot of golf at that time, heard about the course at work and wanted to give it a try, so he called for a tee time. Uncle Bob and his son, David, along with my Uncle Steve Woytovich and myself headed to West Virginia that Sunday morning.
You couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful spring day.
The sun shone brightly when we arrived. We paid our fees and began our round of golf.
Everything was going well. I was having a particularly good day; my drives were long and straight, and my long and short games were better than average.
We were making good time, so we thought we would finish up and grab a quick sandwich before heading home, as there would be plenty to eat at home.
We all hit on 16, and as I recall Uncle Bob and I were longest off the tee.
The sky began to darken as soon as we teed off on 16, and by the time we got to our tee shots rain started coming down in torrents, and lightning could be seen in the distance.
We were right below the clubhouse, so we marked our balls, grabbed our clubs and headed for cover.
We went to the clubhouse, had a sandwich and cold drink and waited to see what the weather was going to do.
The storm itself only lasted a few minutes, but we gave it about 30 minutes. By then the sun was out again. The grass dried somewhat, and the sky turned blue again and filled with bouncy, white fluffy clouds.
We decided to head out and get the round over with.
We all found the spots where we earlier marked our lies.
I had stuck a tee in the fairway.
I dropped a ball, and, as memory serves me, pulled a three wood from my bag.
That was the last thing I remember until I woke up in an ambulance en-route to Washington (Pa.) Hospital.
I never went out again, but my pulse was elevated to about twice normal and by breathing was erratic.
From what I was told later, a lightening bolt from “out of the blue” struck a very large, old oak tree several hundred yards away and then ran along the ground.
Later I was told that the tree was turned into kindling. Several other golfers who experienced some tingling felt the strike, but I apparently took the full blast.
It picked me off my feet and threw me over a nearby embankment and burned a small hole in my golf bag, but to my disbelief the clubs were unaffected.
I was wearing steel golf spikes at the time for soft spikes had not yet been invented.
I guess several people came of my aid immediately after the strike. One was a doctor who was playing in a nearby foursome, and another was local undertaker, who called for his ambulance.
By the time we got to the hospital, Uncle Bob was in worse shape than I was. He was a total basket case, trying to figure out what he was going to tell my parents, and he had to for the hospital wouldn’t treat me as I was a minor. Yes, in those days you were a minor until you were 21. I couldn’t even vote.
Well, I finally saw a doctor. As I recall they gave me a shot or two of some medicine and allowed me go home after resting for about an hour in the emergency room.
I still remember the doctor telling me that with my advanced heart rate when I arrived, that many older individuals would probably not have survived what I had just been through.
The incident changed my golf game and my view of other outdoor sports forever.
I have never played as well as I did back then. I guess I’m always looking over my shoulder at distant clouds.
Getting hit by lightning is definitely a life-changing experience.
I did not play golf again for at least five years. I never even gave it a thought. I was plain scared.
After a while, I finally ventured onto the links again at the urging of some of the guys I worked with who played just about every day.
I finally got back into it on a somewhat limited basis, but I always check the weather first. If the possibility of a thunderstorm is even mentioned or there was a dark cloud in the sky, I stay home.
After playing sparingly for a few years, I put the clubs up again for lack of time and golfing partners.
Then, a few years ago, the bug bit me again. I went out a bought a set of inexpensive clubs to see if I was really going to stick with it.
I was hooked again, and a couple of years ago, I bought another set of clubs.
I don’t play as much as I would like to, but I am hooked for life or at least until the next lightning strike.
We did everything right when the storm came up that day.
Over the years, I’ve tried to find some explanation for just what happened.
The advent of the Internet made that much easier, and what I believe I encountered that day was a “Positive Giant,” but I am no Goliath.
From what I discovered, a “Positive Giant” is a lightning strike that hits the ground up to 20 miles away from the storm. Because it seems to strike from a clear sky it is known as “A Bolt From The Blue.” These “Positive Giant” flashes strike between the storm’s top “anvil” and the Earth and carry several times the destructive energy of a “regular” lightning strike.
On another web site, I discovered that that the odds of being struck by lightning are 576,000 to 1 annually. I hope those odds carry over to “Powerball” one of these nights.
On a more serious note, the odds of being killed by lightning are 2.32 million to 1. Figures show that one in 87,000 lightning bolts hit someone, and one in 345,000 bolts kills someone.
We see lightning bolts in the sky, and they look huge. They are actually about the size of a quarter to a half-dollar. They look so much wider than they really are because their light is so bright.
As one who has been there, all I can say is stay safe with the lightning this summer. Head to cover if you hear thunder nearby. Get off the open water and don’t hold a fishing rod up like a lightning rod. Don’t take any chances with your life.
Lightning causes injuries and kills individuals involved in all sorts of outdoor sports each year from field sports to the shooting sports.
Don’t take chances. Run for cover.
If you’re wearing steel golf spikes take them off. If you’re on the lake, head for shore. And be sure to put that graphite rod down. They make great lightning rods.
Uncle Bob and Uncle Steve both passed on, but Uncle Bob never forgot June 6, 1966.
Every time saw him we would talk golf, and every once in a while that day in June of 1966 would come up.
It always started out as a serious thing, but then we would have a good laugh about it. He always said how I took 20 years off his life.
The episode didn’t really take off that many years, but probably added more gray hairs. He lived another 40 years and died at the age of 85 after a long bout with cancer. He was buried with his putter and a sleeve of balls.
I have him to thank for introducing me to that infernal game and one memory that has been burned into my being forever.
Herald-Standard Outdoors Editor Rod Schoener can be contacted on-line at rschoener@heraldstandard.com.