part I: saturday, october 29th
it’s 9:08 on saturday night. the power is out, my cell phone has died and my eyes have grown fatigued of the struggle to make out the small, shadowy words of my book- by-candle light.
at any given moment a white bubble will pop up with the words, you should switch to another form of power at which point I have exactly 9 seconds until black screen.
given this laptop holds a charge about as well as my left foot this is sure to be short-lived. but in the here in now it’s perfect.
when I was in college and meeting new people (typically at night and after a few too many busch lights or captain and cokes) my go-to introduction was that I was from alaska. my father was an ice fisherman and I grew up on a homestead. if not for my snickering friends, I think I could have been quite convincing. alaskan homesteader chooses frufru-y connecticut university where most cars in the student lot cost more than four year’s catch of salmon. if not for the massachusetts, Spirit of America license plate attached to my (borrowed from dad) 1993 volkswagen eurovan, I definitely would have had alaska in the bag.
but on nights like this where I am frantically searching for any gadget with an ounce of charge I am sitting in complete stillness, finding my way only by candlelight and a very weak maglite my mind goes back to those thoughts. to the life-style which has seemed so intriguing so often.
peasant dress, scrubbing clothes by washboard in a stream while justin, clad in leather suspenders and a pit stained cotton shirt rolled up to the elbows…
ok. maybe I watched Dances With Wolves a few too many times. maybe that steamy tent scene led me to believe that
(BLACK SCREEN OF DEATH)
part 2: monday, november 7th
i’m fairly certain that I could be happy without electricity, phone, internet and even a minivan for at least twelve hours.
as it turns out the saturday night I started typing was the first of eight days without power. it was only the beginning of a devastating snow storm; splitting and uprooting trees, downing power lines like dominos and leaving hundreds of thousands without power. and many of my friends in nearby towns are still sans power and will be for days. incredible.
so, yes. the glamor and romance of a snowy, candle-lit night are lovely. throwing your kids’ poo into the trash because you don’t have enough water to flush it, not so.
we are lucky. lucky, lucky to have had the ability to flee 80 miles north; hunkered down warm, cozied and vino-d with our wonderful families. the BOGO sales at Big Y early on that Saturday morning were salvaged. Our boiler actually fired up with the rest of our lights (we were slightly concerned about that one) and due to the cancellation of Halloween in our town (boo!) I have agazillion milky ways to eat (yay?). we did loose, among eight thousand and ninety two tree limbs and paco nemo #4, our lilac tree. sad, yes. but in the grand scheme of themes a far cry from bad.
Godspeed to you you, paco.
think it’s safe to say that for now my alaskan homesteading fantasies have been put on hold. in fact, think I’ll head to starbucks on the way back from comcast (finally putting that HD TV to its potential and upgrading to an HD box. no time like the present, right?) for a salted caramel mocha. never had one? ohmalorday you must go. like, now.
side note: when paco nemo 1-3 died we did the whole, “daddy took him to work for a while” thing. my cousin who is a therapist offered the insight that our beta fish dying could in fact be a great natural way to better explain death. so, em, i am taking your word on this one. and hoping that you’ll offer free counseling services if the need should arise. did you notice h’s face? holy shred my heart into a trillion pieces. and subsequently rush out to pet supply inc. faster then you can say beta.
welcome miss cinco to our family. miss paco nemo numero cinco, that is.
may your life on this earth be filled with filtered water, a daily pinch (not handful)of food and temperatures of 68 degrees or greater. good luck.
- laura hannah ingalls
