MARTIN C. FREDRICKS IV: Four The Record — Dad, Me And The Lightning Show That Lives On
The front porch of our little, off-white stucco house in Medora, N.D., was a magical place to be on hot, muggy summer evenings. I’d sit on Dad’s lap while he rocked in his chair, watching heat lightning writhe across the buttes that form a high wall on one side of town. The clouds seemed to gather on the ridges and the sparks would …