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| Archer aboard an ancient war chariot. |
(For decades, local historian and paranormal investigator
George “Buster” Singleton published a weekly newspaper column called “Somewhere
in Time.” The column below, which was titled “Afternoon thunderstorm is a show
of God’s power” was originally published in the April 19, 2001 edition of The
Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)
As each day comes and goes, I become more and more disturbed
by our total disregard about our place in our environment. We have rushed
head-on into the scales of Nature’s balance and have scattered everything to
the four winds as an angry child might scatter its toys.
Very little is mentioned anymore about the beautiful
sightings of a special sunset or an afternoon on a quiet and peaceful hillside,
watching the clouds of an approaching thunderstorm gather.
Some of my readers might think me a little odd when I state
that I had rather watch the clouds of a coming storm gather on the horizon than
to see any sports event that one might conjure up.
A few days ago, I happened to be atop a high hill north of
here, near the community of Franklin. As I looked to the northwest, I saw what
I thought as the beginning of a glorious spectacle.
Getting out of my vehicle, I watched in awe as the rolling
clouds in the northwestern skies began to unleash their fury upon the
countryside with strong winds and the promise of lashing rains. During the next
40 or so minutes, I would witness a beautiful and breathtaking display of a portion
of the Creator’s magnitude and power.
Standing there atop the steep hill, I watched as the storm
clouds gathered to form a display of power that would dazzle the human mind. I
as beginning to witness a small portion of the awesome power that the Almighty
has at His fingertips. I saw, too, just how fragile man as when in the presence
of this great power.
As I faced the northwestern skies and watched the storm
clouds as they hurried ever eastward, I was reminded of great war chariots of
another time, hurrying to form a mighty battle line that reached from horizon
to horizon.
I watched in amazement as the mighty winds whipped the heavy
clouds into a rolling mass as through the great chariots of war had begun their
mighty charge. I watched as the rushing winds curled the ends of the mass of
clouds, as though they were the stragglers of the advancing army. I listened to
the magnitude of the rolling thunder as it swept across the hills like the
sound of 10,000 hoofs of hundreds of charging horses.
I watched as the world around me bowed as through about to
be conquered beneath the awesome and breathtaking display of the Creator’s
power.
Onward and nearer charged the chariots of clouds, bringing
with them a huge reservoir of water that would soon pour across the land in
millions and millions of huge cold drops. The rushing winds that raced before the
approaching rains, bending the trees and brush, as though telling the whole world
to run and hide to seek shelter and protection from the mass of chariots and
racing war horses.
As I stood there atop the high hill and watched the masses
of limitless energy take shape across the horizon, I thought how helpless I must
have looked to the Almighty from His place in the clouds. Here I stood, like a
grain of sand beside the mighty ocean, totally helpless against the forces
before me.
I thought of man as a while, and how weak and fragile he was
in his small place within the universe. I thought of his helplessness when he
was foolish enough to try and match wits with the Almighty. I realized once
again that my survival as well as everyone else is totally hopeless if I chose
to try to make it through this life without the guidance of the One from above.
As I braced myself against the rushing winds, I quickly made
my way to the safety of my vehicle. Safely within the security of my vehicle,
the beating and pounding rain pelted the cab of my truck as though trying to
reach in and drag me out into the wind and turmoil of the storm.
Sitting there listening to the storm outside, I thought of a
songwriter in ages past, and how he must have felt when he wrote the famous lyrics:
“Rock of Ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in thee.”
I knew that he too realized how fragile man was as he sought
shelter from a terrible storm such as this one, among the huge boulders on the
steep mountainside many years ago.
Sitting there in the security and quietness of my vehicle, a
feeling of peace came over me, and as the rain and thunderstorm began to
subside, I knew that all was well as the war chariots above passed onward
toward the east. Starting the engine of my vehicle, I made my way back toward
Highway 41.
As I pulled on to the security of the pavement, I realized that
I was humming the most beautiful hymn “Amazing Grace.” Nothing could have been
more appropriate for what I had just witnessed.
(Singleton, the author
of the 1991 book “Of Foxfire and Phantom Soldiers,” passed away at the age of
79 on July 19, 2007. A longtime
resident of Monroeville, he was born to Vincent William Singleton and Frances
Cornelia Faile Singleton, during a late-night thunderstorm, on Dec. 14, 1927 in
Marengo County, graduated from Sweet Water High School in 1946, served as a
U.S. Marine paratrooper in the Korean War, worked as a riverboat deckhand,
lived for a time among Apache Indians, moved to Monroe County on June 28, 1964
and served as the administrator of the Monroeville National Guard unit from
June 28, 1964 to Dec. 14, 1987. He was promoted from the enlisted ranks
to warrant officer in May 1972. For years, Singleton’s columns, titled “Monroe
County history – Did you know?” and “Somewhere in Time” appeared in The Monroe
Journal, and he wrote a lengthy series of articles about Monroe County that
appeared in Alabama Life magazine. It’s believed that his first column appeared
in the March 25, 1971 edition of The Monroe Journal. He is buried in Pineville
Cemetery in Monroeville. The column above and all of Singleton’s other columns
are available to the public through the microfilm records at the Monroe County
Public Library in Monroeville. Singleton’s columns are presented here each week
for research and scholarship purposes and as part of an effort to keep his work
and memory alive.)
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