David Heiller
The ice storm of
1991 could just as well have been the ice storm of 1891 for a lot of people
including our family.
It happened last Friday night and Saturday morning, March 22-23. First rain fell, then sleet, then snow. They combined to break trees and
power lines with a thick mass of icy gunk. Α lot of
people were not only stranded, but they were stranded without electricity and
telephones for quite a spell.
Usually power outages last only an hour or two,
which is a fine commentary on our electric utilities, both the co-ops and Minnesota Power. But this storm
left both the telephone and electricity out at our house for 14-plus hours,
from 11 p.m. to 2 p.m. the next afternoon.
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| In an ice cave |
I’d like to brag and say somewhat haughtily, “Our
kids don’t watch television on Saturday morning. They read ‘Cinderella’ and
play Yahtze and put together jigsaw puzzles.” Actually, they do all those
things, but not on Saturday morning. Not when they can watch Dink the Dinosaur,
Gummee Bears, Bugs Bunny, and
(the Mighty Mouse of the 1990s) Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
So in our house last Saturday, we took a step
back in time. We tuned in a scratchy radio station on the transistor radio that
is otherwise, used exclusively for Minnesota Twins broadcasts. We read books.
Because we had no phone, Noah, Mollie and I hiked down the line to our three
closest neighbors, to see how they were faring. A tree had blown across the
road, and icy needles stung our face from the strong northeast wind. Mother
Nature had flexed her muscles.
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| Snowman work. |
We put the milk and ice cream in a cooler packed
with snow on the porch. The house stayed warm, thanks to the trusty woodstove.
It also worked for frying us a lunch of eggs and toast, and melted down a pan
of snow into water; since the pump wasn’t working, we were in danger of running
out of water.
As the morning warmed and the sleet ended, we
found that the snow was perfect for making snowmen. So we made not one, not
two, but SEVEN snow men, snow women, and snow children. (As the day progressed,
I became a Michelangelo of snow people, and the one of Cindy was anatomically
correct, at least partially.)
Two neighbor kids came over and pitched then we had hot chocolate and cookies.
When the power finally came back on, we were
doing quite nicely without it, thank you. No, we didn’t go shut off the main
switch and remain in our 1891 wrinkle in time. The lights, and fridge and pump
and television were a welcome
return. But it was interesting and even fun to do without them for a night and
half a day.
And through it all our old mantle clock kept us
company. It used to belong to Cindy’s great grandparents. The date “1899” is
written on its back. It chimes every hour, and once on the half hour, and still
keeps perfect time if we remember to wind it once a week.
During the Friday night darkness, Mollie woke up
crying. Her leg hurt, and the icy fingers of the maple tree were scratching to
get into her bedroom so much that even I got the shivers. So I brought her down
to the living room couch. While I tucked her in, that old clock chimed times
with its lovely sound, soft and reassuring.
In the darkness next to my daughter, I wondered
how many ice storms that strong old clock had been through. Α lot, I thought.
It didn’t worry about no electricity, and neither did the people who
heard it chime, because they had no
electricity. In so many ways, they were more self-reliant than
we are today. This storm wouldn’t mean a thing to them.
Times sure change. I’m
grateful for electricity, but after last weekend, I’m glad we had a chance to
step briefly back in time.
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