Massive Midwest ice storm blankets thousands in cold and darkness… and togetherness
Dan Brawner
February 27, 2007
I’m not exactly saying I enjoyed the blackout following the ice storm that knocked out power to 365,000 homes across Iowa. I don’t actually like being cold. In fact, by this time of the year, I’ve just about had it with the cold. But after the wind howled and freezing rain stiffened tree branches and turned mailboxes to stone as if transfixed in Medusa’s stare and the lights all blinked out at once, something kind of wonderful happened.
Not right away, of course. First there was panic. It was dark! Well, duh…. It was night. And then, it was cold! Yes, it is February. What were we expecting—75 degrees and the distant call of Amazonian parrots?
Then, out came the candles and the down comforters and the snow pants and the hot chocolate. Some romantic individuals tried reading by candlelight. Those, even more romantic simply went to bed early.
But mostly, when the blackout hit, a light came on in our heads. Survival! It’s the strongest instinct we have. Cable TV, Washington politics and all the silliness that usually occupies our thoughts suddenly seemed unimportant. Primal imperatives of heat, food and family took their rightful places and we went into action.
Guys who had been preparing for Armageddon, dusted off their generators and freeze-dried stroganoff and basked in the wives’ new-found admiration. Yesterday, their neighbors thought they were survival nuts-- today they became community resources. Mothers fired up camp stoves, made sandwiches and told their children stories by candlelight.
The next day at the local hardware store, there was a rush of people buying batteries and kerosene. They were all sharing their tales of triumph over adversity. Everyone seemed excited, even happy. It was a party atmosphere. I overhead somebody say that his son’s family had come over to get warm by their wood stove. There was still no TV, no video games. He said, “The funniest thing happened. My grandson actually started playing with his little sister!” There was nothing else to do.
It was as if the cold and dark suddenly made us all more sociable. Families, friends, neighbors reconnected, shared food, blankets and extension cords. Something deep in our DNA that had been slumbering, awoke. Our ancestors survived the Ice Age. They lived together in their caves and all roasted Wooly Mammoths over a communal fire. It was cold, but they survived and prospered. And had fun, I bet. And we’re just like them. The ice sickle does fall far from the… well, you know what I mean.
The forecast says another ice storm is on its way. I sure hope they’re wrong. This togetherness thing is all very nice. But I miss my microware.
Not right away, of course. First there was panic. It was dark! Well, duh…. It was night. And then, it was cold! Yes, it is February. What were we expecting—75 degrees and the distant call of Amazonian parrots?
Then, out came the candles and the down comforters and the snow pants and the hot chocolate. Some romantic individuals tried reading by candlelight. Those, even more romantic simply went to bed early.
But mostly, when the blackout hit, a light came on in our heads. Survival! It’s the strongest instinct we have. Cable TV, Washington politics and all the silliness that usually occupies our thoughts suddenly seemed unimportant. Primal imperatives of heat, food and family took their rightful places and we went into action.
Guys who had been preparing for Armageddon, dusted off their generators and freeze-dried stroganoff and basked in the wives’ new-found admiration. Yesterday, their neighbors thought they were survival nuts-- today they became community resources. Mothers fired up camp stoves, made sandwiches and told their children stories by candlelight.
The next day at the local hardware store, there was a rush of people buying batteries and kerosene. They were all sharing their tales of triumph over adversity. Everyone seemed excited, even happy. It was a party atmosphere. I overhead somebody say that his son’s family had come over to get warm by their wood stove. There was still no TV, no video games. He said, “The funniest thing happened. My grandson actually started playing with his little sister!” There was nothing else to do.
It was as if the cold and dark suddenly made us all more sociable. Families, friends, neighbors reconnected, shared food, blankets and extension cords. Something deep in our DNA that had been slumbering, awoke. Our ancestors survived the Ice Age. They lived together in their caves and all roasted Wooly Mammoths over a communal fire. It was cold, but they survived and prospered. And had fun, I bet. And we’re just like them. The ice sickle does fall far from the… well, you know what I mean.
The forecast says another ice storm is on its way. I sure hope they’re wrong. This togetherness thing is all very nice. But I miss my microware.