A TASTE OF THE PAST

11/7/98
We had a taste of the past and a possible glimpse of things to
come when the electricity went out today. Here in Northeast Pennsylvania
we are used to heavy snows or ice storms knocking down power lines
during the winter time but this was a mild autumn day.


I had delivered a finished cabinet this morning and for the
first time in months, sat down to watch a movie with Gin. She had
just put an apple pie in the oven. Half way through "Driving Miss Daisy"
the TV clicked off, the fan stopped running, and when I
checked the office I found a blank screen on my computer. I went
to the fuse box and flicked switches, then to the meter box where
the dial was not moving. Gin called the electric company only
to get a recorded message that was no help. She called the neighbors
who told us their power was also out. We sat and talked about
future plans, buying a generator was moved up a couple notches
on our list.
 

The hours went by slowly with the tic-toc of two battery
operated clocks marking the seconds. As the sun disappeared
behind the western treeline, Gin rounded up candles and I dug
out the camping lantern. I put the cows in the barn and gave them
a half a bale of hay, telling them that I would be back to milk them
in an hour, electricity or not. I was hoping for the electricity.


We ate an early supper, canned potatoes and leftover ham, with
still-warm apple pie for dessert. We had planned on BLTs but did not
want to open the freezer for the bacon (or the ice-cream to top
the pie).




Chores could not be put off any longer so I took the lantern
and a bucket down to the barn. I hung the propane lantern from
a beam and using a three-gallon bucket for a stool, re-learned
how nice it was to work in silence, without the radio playing or
the vacuum pump running. The cows were remarkably cooperative,
Rosi kicked the bucket only once and I caught it before it spilt.
I leaned into her side and think I felt her three month fetus kick
me, I grinned even though my hands were cramping up.
 

It has now been six hours since the power went out. I am
sitting at my desk with only a candle to light the paper under
the pen that is giving me cramps of a different stroke. A click to
my right gives me warning, Reba McEntire starts singing,
"...is there life out there?"