It is Tuesday morning, November 8th and I would estimate that I am at a 95% personal restoration rate. Let me explain, I last sat at this island enjoying my morning coffee on Saturday, October 29th, blissfully unaware of what Storm Alfred and the days ahead would hold in store for me. You were introduced to the historic October snowstorm in my regretfully mocking blog written as the first few flakes fell and quickly finished as the lights went dark. It was posted at some point during the last 10 days (I honestly lost track of the individual days, with no markers to distinguish them), and even then, as I acknowledged my underestimation of Alfred's power, I had yet to grasp the magnitude of his impact. I am going to offer a condensed version of what happened during the 10+ days of what many have labeled "Snowmageddon." The highlights will certainly paint a clear enough picture and so many of you were right there in the trenches with me that the details are not necessary.
Quickly rolling back to the beginning, that first Saturday night (inconceivable that this spanned 2 of them) was dark and cold, but certainly manageable. We had a wok-cooked dinner (gas stove) and made a nice fire. Scott gave up early with no TV or Internet, and went to bed at 7pm. I spent a good part of the evening in my car, charging my cell phone and my iPad. As I posted at that time on Facebook, I wasn't sure if that was pathetic or smart, I will now confirm it was most definitely the latter. Those two devices were my connection to the outside world and my full tank of gas and car charger kept them alive. We crawled into bed at 10 pm, plenty warm but missing my television. The overnight hours were a symphony of cracking tree limbs and howling winds. Sunday morning revealed the eerie details of the devastation right outside my own front door. We were literally trapped in our house, fallen trees blocking the street on either side of our driveway. These were not branches, to my left was a toppled 100-year old willow tree; a white Lexus oddly stuck in the hole left by the roots ripped from the earth (further investigation revealed a late night driver attempted to "go around" the blockage; I am fairly certain there was alcohol involved). To my right, another set of giant limbs; an unsuccessful attempt at movement by a snowplow was somewhat entertaining. Downed power lines dangled eerily in the middle of the street, which was now a maze of trees and archways created by the haphazard falls of trunks and limbs. The blue sky of late morning brought out most of the neighbors to share in the curiosity of what looked like a snow coved war zone. Soon enough the hum of chain saws cut a pathway out on the right and kids in snow suits explored the neighborhood while nervous parents kept them away from the black wires cutting through the snow. I ingeniously (ok, Jeffrey gave me the idea) poured water boiled on the stove through the coffee maker and enjoyed my morning Joe as usual. I made Andrew a great breakfast of scrambled eggs and cheese on a skillet grilled English muffin and Scott stayed cocooned in his bed until at least midday. Jeffrey happily spent his morning with the snow blower and the chain saw; he is the unique breed of Jewish husband who loves his power tools. I made contact with my "girls," hiding out at the house with the generator and planned our first escape to warmth and companionship. We packed up what we needed for a possible night out, not expecting much would be repaired on a Sunday, and still relatively unaware of the storms statewide powerlessness. The journey to LFL's house was a tricky passage under wires and trees scraping the roof of my car, but we arrived safely and settled in for the day. 9 of us hung out all day, treated to a delicious hot lunch "thrown together" by my friend who somehow manages to elevate pantry basics to gourmet with zero stress or effort. Dessert was Halloween candy, already assuming that trick or treating was not likely for the following day. Slowly but surely we learned that our town, and nearly 60% of the state was without power and this was looking to be a long-term situation. Hotels were unavailable almost immediately, and not really an option with a 13-year old Golden Retriever that couldn't be left home in our cold, dark house. Late Sunday afternoon the four of us and Boola moved in with the Z's, old friends who have been there for us through all of life's "storms," this one more literal than the rest, for what was unexpectedly a week long stay. Much more than a warm bed and a warm house, we were treated to spectacular meals, satellite TV and individual bathrooms (yes, I was living better in storm life than real life). Our more than gracious hosts opened their doors and their hearts to countless others during the course of the week; providing cell phone charging, a hot shower and a full house at the dinner table many nights in a row. Although it is never easy to be displaced from your home, I can't complain about afternoons filled with warm cookies from the oven, two playmates for my dog (who did not even get evicted after multiple "accidents" on the kitchen floor), and long days and nights spent with best friends who never tired from a houseful of guests. When the worst of times brings out the best in people, you know you have been blessed with the right people in your life. This week just confirmed what we have known all along, and we will be forever grateful that J & E have always been our safe harbor.
In reality, outside of the anger and resentment towards Connecticut Light & Power, most of the community rose to the occasion with respect and caring for their fellow storm refugees. Crowded gas stations and supermarkets fostered friendship and conversation, Facebook posts (seemingly the only communication with the world for most) offered "open invitations" to houses with power and long distance friends and family from near and far welcomed anyone who needed a place to sleep or just getaway for the day. Busy intersections without traffic lights provided a timely lesson to my soon to be new driver in courtesy and rules of the road. Restaurants and bookstores welcomed long-lingering patrons to "charge and warm”, many of them nursing the same cup of coffee for hours. Neighbors helped neighbors clean yards and drag branches to the street and kept watch on the houses whose residents had fled for power in other states. The local Laundromat (found out on Facebook it was owned by a friend and headed over immediately with bags from 4 households) washed and folded load after load every day, with the manager even offering to stay late and finish Scott's clothes so he could leave for his new job in Washington the next day. Mother nature served up a historic mess for October and I have to say, my community responded with mostly high marks.
On the lighter side (and I suppose that can be taken literally at this point), it wasn't so bad having a week off from work (spent mostly in Uggs and sweatpants) and Andrew wasn't unhappy about missing over a week of school either (not sure how he will feel about that in late June). I did feel the most sympathy for the parents of younger kids whose days were filled with endless field trips and "power less" activities; teenagers are generally happy to be left alone with their smart phones and a PS 3 in my case. I can't remember another event causing this much damage and disruption to my normal routine, but in the end we fared better than the thousands who suffered the wrath of Katrina or Irene. We mostly have intact homes to return to and other than the loss of perishable food (and my fridge looks as clean as the day it arrived) and some landscaping, life will continue as usual tomorrow when school is finally in session and power is fully restored statewide.
This brings me back to my original statement of 95% restoration. For the last 10 or 11 days (but who's counting) we received daily updates on power restoration estimates; who would have power and when. The goal of 100% restoration was shifted day after day until the numbers offered neither truth nor hope. It became almost laughable as the outage stretched beyond a week, schools closed for 7 days, and wires and trees still littered streets long after the snow had melted and the autumn sun returned. Days of "assessment" led to minimal impact on repairs and the sighting of electrical crews became a game of sport. I am thankful that exasperation led mostly to bad jokes and not extensive outbreaks of “power rage” (although there was a random murder reported in the midst of the chaos, doubtful however that this was a crime caused by lack of lights and cable). For the most part this will be a funny memory, a situation so far out of anyone's control, that laughter was the only remedy. Jeffrey may disagree based on a few outbreaks at his expense, but even in a power outage I am entitled to a few short circuits. I am happily back in my own house (I do miss the cookies and the cleaning lady though) with lights, cable TV and a home phone. I am still without Internet (thus the missing 5%, I might be underestimating its importance, but I still have 3G service on the iPad). I have obviously been "blogless" for many days now, but I have come to realize that writing is a luxury that didn't have its place during my displacement. I felt a bit selfish trying to find a quiet spot to share my thoughts when there always seemed to be something else I should be doing. I've fallen into a routine on this journey; places and times that I write which give me the space and freedom to let the words flow naturally. Losing my corner of the world, for even a short time, left me without an opportunity to think things through. The quiet of another home feels different than the empty hum of a night in my own room or the background noise of the news with my morning coffee. My words are used to their own environment and they have quietly snuck back into my head today. It feels good to talk to you again; hopefully you still want to listen. I woke up this morning, for the first time in a great while, with things I wanted to say and the free time to say them. As it happens, tomorrow's post will be my hardest, glad I got the chance to sneak one out before I tackle the one in front of me. I have emerged out of the darkness and into the light and learned that with family, good friends, laughter, a Laundromat, occasional liquor, and a charged iPhone, I can survive almost anything.
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