Coming Out of the Dark

I finally see the light -- about not having electricity. Yes, there are some pluses.

You may have noticed there wasn’t a newsletter last Friday. That’s because around 5pm on Thursday, we lost power. A weird storm – and weird is 100% the right word for it – ripped through the area. The sky went really dark and crazy rain and crazier wind ensued. I’m not entirely sure how long it lasted for (Full disclosure: I had fallen asleep on the couch and woke up to rain and no power,) but it was brief and did some damage.

Trees were down everywhere and thousands of homes were without power. A few trees came down in our neighborhood, narrowly missing cars and homes. A huge tree came down on the main street near our home, bringing the power lines down with it. PECO, our electric company, expected power to return at 11pm – on Friday. 

We found a few flashlights, ate dinner in a dimly lit dining room and settled in. It was kind of wonderful.

The culprit

Lucy was at the beach with her Girl Scout troop, and the beach did not get the same storm. She was on her way home, but we did not have cell service. Every text I sent came back with a red exclamation point next to it. At various points, the clouds would shift or something would happen and a flurry of text messages would come through, so at least I knew she would be dropped off at some point. Charlie and I sat by the window, playing a board game and waited for her to return. We watched the sun slowly set and the fireflies come out. We listened to the birds. We listened to the quiet.

There was a calm that I welcomed. Sure, that was punctuated by frustration at points about no cell service and fears that all the food in the fridge would go bad. But for the most part, there was a deep exhale as we waited.

It reminded me of when I was a kid and power would go out. We’d light candles and grab flashlights and figure out ways to entertain ourselves. My dad used to do this silly Charlie Chaplin routine where we’d point a flashlight at him and watch his shadows dance along our living room walls. We’d go to bed with the windows open and sleep in our underwear.

There was also that one day in New York city in 2002 when the blackout happened. After fears that another terrorist was happening were assuaged, we walked home from work. Some friends went to bars where they were happy to get rid of their food and drinks at a discount for fear they’d go bad. But I went home and ate all the ice cream in my fridge and sat by the window. I talked on my cell phone until it died and then went to bed listening to a baseball game on my Sony Walkman. The next day, I called my mom from a pay phone to let her know I was ok. I remember it being creepy but also wonderful. The city that never sleeps had to sleep.

There is something about losing electricity – and I do fully, fully love electricity – that makes you slow down. There are no news notifications, no shows to watch, no social media to doom scroll. But it’s more than that, too. You look outside and see things in a totally different light (pun intended). Those fire flies were much easier to spot, the birds easier to hear. The air even felt different. Maybe it was because there were no ACs running and few cars on the road. 

We escaped to my parents house the next morning, thankful to have a pool to cool off in and AC to duck into when it got too hot by the pool. Around 1:30pm, friends texted to let us know the power was back on. We headed back home and talked about buying a generator. It’s true, the storms will only get worse with climate change, and the old trees that line our streets will just get more susceptible to the elements. The logical side of me understands the plus sides of having a generator. But there is part of me that thinks we should just forgo it and see what happens. Just because you can make life easier doesn’t mean you always have to. 

At one point, Charlie asked me if this is what it was like in the olden days and I said yes. He responded with “when you were a kid?” I laughed and told him I’m not that old. But I am old enough to appreciate the simplicity and peace that come with darkness. Charlie, who sleeps with 5 nightlights and had to settle for one that night, isn’t quite there yet.

I know I’m slacking on the links, but I’m not into forcing them. They’ll be back when it makes sense.