Published in The Fauquier Times-Democrat, Weekend Edition on July 6, 2012
We interrupt the previously planned column, just like the way our lives were interrupted, by the powerful, history-making storm that recently swept the Mid-Atlantic. I’ve been getting so many calls from the National Weather Service lately that we’re on a first-name basis.
I realize that I complain about many things; in fact, having a column can be the equivalent of being a professional complainer, although I don’t actually derive a living doing this. (That’s what husbands are for, after all. That, and for fixing up every mysteriously dented towel rod in our house.)
I’m not going to complain about being left without power two weekends ago, because when I wrote this, there were still thousands without electricity in the midst of a sweltering week. There are two-dozen people who lost their lives to this storm; some lost their homes or their cars. All we lost was some time and a bag of shrimp.
There is nothing like losing something to make you appreciate it. Electricity is just one of those things we take for granted in our lives, like clean, running water, the Internet, and good health. It’s like the statement: “You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Toilet paper’s a good example.” Unfortunately, I don’t know who gets the credit for this profound quote.
The weekend before last, I had to go without electricity to our home for less than 24 hours. Here’s what I learned about myself. I am a big baby. I am spoiled. Once in awhile, I should realize how so many other people in the world have to live.
That Friday night, my daughter had called from her apartment in Charlottesville. She had lost power and said that from her fifth floor apartment, she could hear the wind howling. The garbage dumpster below was shaking. When I looked up the weather online for her, I saw that we were all in the path of this severe thunderstorm. Shortly after it reached us, it would be paying a visit to Baltimore where my eldest daughter was.
I’m not proficient with managing a conference call, but I do know how to use the home phone and the cell phone simultaneously. So it happened that both my elder daughters and I were discussing the weather in this swath of nearly two hundred miles. So at least we had a warning, but not everyone was or is so fortunate.
My husband had the power pack charging, the lanterns out, and our flashlights handy. I am so glad this man is around. About that time, our dog started shuddering violently. She is terrified of thunder.
Shortly after our conversation ended, the power failed. We all fell asleep with the power out and the backdoor open. (It’s okay; you’d have to be Spiderman to get in through our backdoor until we have a deck or stairs or some other form of access installed.) The next morning, our first trip was to the local Walmart to get bags of ice. We had a vehicle to drive. It was tanked up. There were reasons to be thankful. Neither Spiderman nor any others had paid us a visit during the night. Our dog, for once, had not peed on the carpet. Yes, we had many reasons to be thankful.
We got to the store that was surprisingly busy. I was relieved to see that they had power and people already working there that morning. What if we were to awaken to a disaster and there were no essential services? No stores open? No place with electricity or air conditioning or ice and water to sell?
Many other people had had the same idea to come and buy ice. There was a lady who already had a fully stocked cart with all manner of things at about 7:15 am. I was impressed at her shopping finesse. How had she hit so many different corners of the vast store? She told us that she had been there the night before when the power went out. She had had to abandon the cart because she was unable to make her purchases then.
The elderly gentleman with the captain’s hat ahead of us laughed heartily when I responded to the cashier’s “How are you?” with a “Fine…Well, no actually, we are powerless.” He must have been too, because his cart consisted of water, ice, and batteries.
I think these storms help us to realize that, despite all our technological advances as a society, we are utterly dependent. And despite our numerous appliances and batteries, we remain pretty powerless.
We interrupt the previously planned column, just like the way our lives were interrupted, by the powerful, history-making storm that recently swept the Mid-Atlantic. I’ve been getting so many calls from the National Weather Service lately that we’re on a first-name basis.
I realize that I complain about many things; in fact, having a column can be the equivalent of being a professional complainer, although I don’t actually derive a living doing this. (That’s what husbands are for, after all. That, and for fixing up every mysteriously dented towel rod in our house.)
I’m not going to complain about being left without power two weekends ago, because when I wrote this, there were still thousands without electricity in the midst of a sweltering week. There are two-dozen people who lost their lives to this storm; some lost their homes or their cars. All we lost was some time and a bag of shrimp.
There is nothing like losing something to make you appreciate it. Electricity is just one of those things we take for granted in our lives, like clean, running water, the Internet, and good health. It’s like the statement: “You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Toilet paper’s a good example.” Unfortunately, I don’t know who gets the credit for this profound quote.
The weekend before last, I had to go without electricity to our home for less than 24 hours. Here’s what I learned about myself. I am a big baby. I am spoiled. Once in awhile, I should realize how so many other people in the world have to live.
That Friday night, my daughter had called from her apartment in Charlottesville. She had lost power and said that from her fifth floor apartment, she could hear the wind howling. The garbage dumpster below was shaking. When I looked up the weather online for her, I saw that we were all in the path of this severe thunderstorm. Shortly after it reached us, it would be paying a visit to Baltimore where my eldest daughter was.
I’m not proficient with managing a conference call, but I do know how to use the home phone and the cell phone simultaneously. So it happened that both my elder daughters and I were discussing the weather in this swath of nearly two hundred miles. So at least we had a warning, but not everyone was or is so fortunate.
My husband had the power pack charging, the lanterns out, and our flashlights handy. I am so glad this man is around. About that time, our dog started shuddering violently. She is terrified of thunder.
Shortly after our conversation ended, the power failed. We all fell asleep with the power out and the backdoor open. (It’s okay; you’d have to be Spiderman to get in through our backdoor until we have a deck or stairs or some other form of access installed.) The next morning, our first trip was to the local Walmart to get bags of ice. We had a vehicle to drive. It was tanked up. There were reasons to be thankful. Neither Spiderman nor any others had paid us a visit during the night. Our dog, for once, had not peed on the carpet. Yes, we had many reasons to be thankful.
We got to the store that was surprisingly busy. I was relieved to see that they had power and people already working there that morning. What if we were to awaken to a disaster and there were no essential services? No stores open? No place with electricity or air conditioning or ice and water to sell?
Many other people had had the same idea to come and buy ice. There was a lady who already had a fully stocked cart with all manner of things at about 7:15 am. I was impressed at her shopping finesse. How had she hit so many different corners of the vast store? She told us that she had been there the night before when the power went out. She had had to abandon the cart because she was unable to make her purchases then.
The elderly gentleman with the captain’s hat ahead of us laughed heartily when I responded to the cashier’s “How are you?” with a “Fine…Well, no actually, we are powerless.” He must have been too, because his cart consisted of water, ice, and batteries.
I think these storms help us to realize that, despite all our technological advances as a society, we are utterly dependent. And despite our numerous appliances and batteries, we remain pretty powerless.
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