No raining on his parade

PETER BUFFA

“Hangin’ around, nothing to do but frown, rainy days and Mondays

always get me down.”

Actually, with all due respect to the Carpenters, they don’t.

Mondays I can do without, but when it comes to rainy days, I love

them. Which means I’ve had a lot to love lately.

If you’re into numbers, our average annual rainfall -- which is

measured from July to July -- is about 12 1/2 inches. Please. We

blew past that by the middle of January with plenty of pedal to

spare.

In a normal year, we would have gotten about nine inches of the

wet stuff since last July. But this year is anything but normal.

We’ve racked up almost 20 inches so far, and July is nowhere to be

seen. From Jan. 9 to 13, nine inches of rain fell along the

California coast. In our own backyard, 20 inches of rain fell on

Saddleback Mountain between Jan. 7 and 10.

But don’t feel rained on. It’s been a wet winter, but those

numbers are pretty dry, compared to the all-time records. The bell

ringer of cloudbursts was on July 4, 1956, in Unionville, Md., where

1.23 inches of rain fell in one minute, which would have been 74

inches in one hour had it lasted. On July 25, 1979, the town of

Alvin, Texas got 43 inches of rain in 24 hours.

In the 12 months between Dec. 1981 and Dec. 1982, a hilltop in

Maui got 739 inches of rain. That sounds impressive until you match

it against a village in India called Cherrapunji, which got 1,042

inches of rain between Aug. 1860 and Aug. 1861. Now that’s wet.

There is one thing about raindrops falling on our heads that I

never understand. No matter how much rain and snow we get, we’re

still in a drought. I know most of the rain runs into the ocean, and

yes, the snow pack in the Sierras is more important to the water

supply than rainfall.

This year, we’ve had a zillion inches of rain and the snow level

in the Sierras is the highest it’s been since 1916, which was a long

time ago, but we’re still in a drought. No matter. As long as it

keeps raining, I’m happy as a clam, although how do we know clams are

happy? Answer me that.

When it rains, everything around these parts gets awfully pretty.

“Though April showers may come your way, they bring the flowers that

bloom in May,” etc.

Seen Fairview Park or the hills along the San Diego Freeway (405)

and Sand Canyon lately? Could be Orange County, could be Ireland,

hard to tell. In a few weeks, the wildflowers along the freeways and

in the canyons will be in full-on drop-dead gorgeous bloom.

When Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “Flowers are the earth laughing,”

he was totally serious.

Here is a hot tip for cool flowers -- no charge, don’t thank me.

In a few weeks, take a ride on the Foothill-Eastern Toll Road, from

one end to the other. The wildflowers will be just, well, wild. It’s

a blockbuster of a show and all made possible by your friend, the

rain.

And if you think I’m big on rainy days, I’m loopy for thunder and

lightning. We had a pretty good show Saturday, just before dawn. You

lie there half asleep on a rainy night, gazing out the window,

watching for the flashes and then counting the seconds -- ... one

Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, boom.

After all these years, it’s still very cool. That’s assuming

you’re watching it from a safe place, of course. Outdoors, lightning

is nothing to play with. Did you know that 75% of people struck by

lightning are males? Whose idea was that, if I may ask?

I assume it has something to do with being on a golf course, which

is the most likely scenario for being zapped, with boating, fishing

and swimming close behind. Also, stay out of phone booths, which are

basically hollowed-out lightning rods.

While you’re at it, stay out of Florida, Texas and North Carolina.

Those are the big three for lightning fatalities, with Florida having

more than twice as many as any other state, which makes sense when

you think of golf, boating, fishing and swimming.

Standing under a tree in a thunderstorm is still one of the

all-time bad ideas and accounts for 20% of fatal lightning strikes.

The most deadly lightning strike ever? On Dec. 8, 1962, a

lightning strike sparked a fire in a fuel tank on a Pan Am jet over

Maryland, killing all 81 people aboard. Fortunately, today’s

airplanes are virtually lightning-safe, thanks to design changes made

after that.

So there it is -- everything you ever wanted to know about the

rain, thunder and lightning, but were too wet to ask. It’s simple.

Don’t play golf, stay away from the water, and never ever use a phone

booth in Florida, ever.

I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs

Sundays. He may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].