Photo Credit: © Mrsash174 | Dreamstime.com
Lightning dotted the sky as the lifeguards/swim instructors hurried us across the pool deck and into the boiler room separating the women’s locker room from the men’s. I was 12 years old. My brother was 10. Our swim lesson was aborted and we were wet, cold, and shivering.
There had been no time to grab a towel and the boiler room was not heated. But, we were safe from the lighting and possible tornado raging outside.
As we waited in the semi-darkness—pretending to be brave with the rest of our class—the teenage instructors decided we should pass the time by playing a quick game of basketball.