George Singleton recounts the 'miracle of a thunderstorm' in 1998

George Buster Singleton

(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 “The miracle of a thunderstorm,” was originally published in the Aug. 13, 1998 edition of The Monroe Journal in Monroeville, Ala.)

Strange how, just when one thinks they have become an accurate forecaster, they find they know absolutely nothing. This past Saturday, the 8^th of August, I decided I would take some time off from the chores that my dear wife had assigned and ride over to one of my favorite places of rest and relaxation. Looking to the northwest, I decided the few thunderheads on the horizon poised no threat to me. So, I mounted my motorcycle and headed toward one of my favorite places, Nancy Mountain.

As I headed up Highway 41, I noticed that those thunderheads seem to hang lower and had become much heavier. As I raced along toward my destination, the thunderheads seem to grow larger and become heavier and darker. I was beginning to doubt my ability to forecast the weather as I raced through the high hill overlooking the river. I knew that if I could make it to the top of Nancy Mountain, I could protect myself from the weather by getting under the pavilion.

Luck was with me. I parked my motorcycle just as a few large drops of rain began to fall and make a very soothing sound on the leaves of the trees and the top of the pavilion. As the rain grew harder, I knew that I was in for a time of relaxation and contentment.

I selected a comfortable place, then turned my eyes toward the deep valley before me and the heavy dark thunderheads that had gathered over the mighty river in the distance. As the dark, heavy clouds assembled, I noticed how much they resembled a great army preparing itself for battle. I thought of the times of long ago when great armies came face to face on the fields of conflict to battle to the death.

I watched as the front line formed and drew close together, as if preparing for a great charge. Many small clouds seem to gather slowly and attach themselves to the rear flanks of the great masses that stood ready to do battle.

Then, as if pre-planned, great blades of lightning streaked across the front of the army of thunderclouds, giant swords flashed as a show-of-force. The foremost thunderhead seemed to boil straight up, like a giant pot that had boiled to overflowing.

As if on command, the mighty army of thunderheads began to move slowly toward the southwest. Giant streaks of rain draped like a giant curtain below the mighty thunder warriors as if their intent was to cover the enemy completely. The great army that followed moved onward to do battle with its unseen opposition.

As I sat in awe and marveled at the great spectacle before me, I wondered how anyone who had ever witnessed a movement of this magnitude could doubt there is a God. I felt like the writer of the great hymn “Rock of Ages” as he sought shelter on the rocky side of a cliff from a storm such as this. And as I sat there and watched in amazement I felt I had been led there to witness this great event, as though it had been pre-planned for my benefit and mine alone.

As the great army of clouds moved to the southwest, the noise of chariots and thousands of horses’ hooves faded into the distance. The low rumble of thunder sounded as if the battle had been fought. Only a few skirmishes on the flanks of the great army were left as the defeated stragglers were rounded up.

The winds had softened to almost a whisper through the tall pine trees, as if saying that it was all over. Peace was restored to the top of Nancy Mountain. Raindrops clung to the leaves as though awaiting a signal from the earth. Small animals came out of their shelters as if they had been waiting for the mighty army to bring peace to their land.

I stood for a moment facing the great river and the deep valley below. I knew once again why I had come. I raised my arms to the heavens. This was my place, the place where I could draw strength from my surroundings. This was a place where I could talk to my Creator and he would listen and I would know through Him that all things are possible.

I rolled my motorcycle from under the canopy. I felt that I was leaving a friend. I took one last look across the vast valley before me. As I made my way down the wet dirt road, these words kept ringing in my head: “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for Thou are with me.”

The chariots of thunder and heavy rain had rolled across the surrounding areas also. I found that the rain gauge in my yard recorded 1-1/4 inches. The chariots of the clouds had covered a larger area than I had thought, besides drenching me to the bone. As I made my way toward the house and some dry clothes, the words of an ancient Indian prayer came to mind:

And, as I wander across the land and marvel at the wonders of they creation, make me know that thou art God, my God, now and forever. And, when the shadows of this life gather on the horizon, let me dwell in that land, where time is measured, not in months or years, but only in forevers...

(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 also helped organize the Monroe County Museum and Historical Society and was also a past president of that organization. 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.)