A Brief Power Outage

 

    I feel so bad for all the people in the South and Midwest and East, who were walloped by that sudden, severe freeze recently, especially those in Texas, who understandably were not prepared for anything like it, and not only had to suffer record cold temps, but then no water.  Here in Sacramento, when power goes out in summer, it’s due to too great a use of air conditioners.  Winter blackouts are rarer, and usually due to a tree falling on a power line during a storm.   Those big blackouts suffered by many in California last fall had nothing to do with us, as we do not get our utilities from Pacific Gas and Electric but from “SMUD”, the Sacramento Municipal Utility District.  And thank heavens, it never gets very cold here, so if the heat goes out, we won't quite freeze.

          On the night of January 26^th we were have a bit of a storm, when at 10:30, the lights went out.  I was immediately glad that I was not on the computer or doing laundry or watching something special on TV at that moment.  Amazingly, I knew where my flashlights were.  The big one had no batteries in it, but two small ones worked.  They were Halloween ones—for trick-or-treating—with orange handles; when turned on, they projected an outline of a bat.  I quickly found the matches and lit a pillar candle that lives atop the fridge.

          I turned off the TV and most light switches (a habit, so that fuses don’t blow when the electricity comes on again).   Oddly, when the lights went out there were no sounds from neighbors: no yelps or screams, no shouts of “Oh no!”, no thumps.  Was anyone even home in this building?  I went into the hallway with my orange flashlight.  Normally, when the electricity goes out, the hallway lights in their wall sconces stay on, but they were out as well.  At the staircase, I could see that the upstairs hall lights had remained on.  Outside all was dark, except for our front door porch light and a streetlamp at each end of the block.  It was completely silent outside, as it was inside.  Except for the wind thrashing the trees--rather eerie.

          I walked back to the courtyard door and saw that the lights out there were on.  At the front again, I stood holding the door open and watched the tree outside being fiercely buffeted by the wind, while I recited Robert Frost’s poem about the “window tree” (one of the very few poems I know by heart).  Then I went back inside.  I took the pillar candle in its ceramic jar into the bathroom, but only took flashlights into the bedroom—I am paranoid about setting off the smoke alarm!  At least my transistor radio had new batteries, so I could listen to the BBC World Service news and information programs as I usually do at night . 

          Because of restless sleep and periods of no sleep (typical for me), I got up quite late.  Electricity still out.  I remembered the fridge, and regretted having stocked up on ice cream, frozen shrimp, and Boca Burgers, not to mention milk and other perishable foods, and wondered if the electricity would be out so long that everything went bad. 

          In the afternoon I went over to Rite Aid (the drugstore a block away), but it was still closed.  So I set out for Ace Hardware, a nice half-mile stroll. (It’s a good way to get myself to walk a mile, but I just don’t have that many occasions to visit a hardware store.) The store was open—they have a sizeable generator, the clerk told me—and looked so bright and crowded and cheery, it was almost festive.  There were other people buying batteries, too.  I bought some of every size.  Then I spotted a display of cute patterned socks, which were supposed to be big enough to fit men.  I couldn’t resist, as I am rarely able to get cute socks.  (Of course, when I got home and tried them on, they turned out to be too tight--men’s socks tend to be narrow).  On the way home, I stopped in the gas station market and bought a can of peas (to add to the salad) and kitchen gloves and snacks.  I stopped to greet a tiny white dog who looked made out of marshmallow (as I told his owner).  At home, I took some juice and snack crackers out to the polite fellow who sometimes rests under the overhang in our parking area, his laden bike nearby.  But once I was inside and trying to do things by candle and flashlight while the day darkened, I began to feel rather sad.  Thank heavens it was not truly cold.  “Gloom” means “partial darkness,” and also “lowness of spirits.”  I was feeling gloomy in the gloom.

          Then, at 6:20, sitting in the living room, I heard a click.  “That’s the answering machine turning on!” I exclaimed aloud.  As I turned my head, the modem light came on, and the television lit up.  Hurrah!  Civilization once more!

Thank you, SMUD workers!  Thank you Comcast!  Thank you, Thomas Edison!