The Storm The lightning scattered, The thunder exploded and shook the house. The rain fell like rice krispies, a vivace of tapping on the windows. Relentlessly, the red blobs marched like zombies across the radar screen. It was going to be a long night. Were the kids safe? Were the dogs and cats inside? Were the umbrellas on the back deck closed tight? Where were Robert Heinlein, Tom Robbins and the others that brought me a new perspective in stormy days past? Were the rivers going to flood and take “A Stranger In A Strange Land” to the sea. Lost forever, when we needed him the most? What if we wake to discover “Skinny Legs and All” was burned in fire started by lightning? The seven veils never to be lifted again? Where was Harry Chapin? Would I lose the lessons of fatherhood, of broken dreams driving in a taxi, of so many colors in the rainbow? The believers in black and white cannot win. If the sun shines tomorrow, I have to believe the rainbow will join me again for coffee and eggs, While we read the comics together.