Friday night, during the days long 100+ degree heat wave, I
got a call from a friend in Staunton.
She was camping in her bathroom, with tornado-like winds and no
power. Little did either of us know then
that she was one of 1-3 million customers across a wide band of states who
would be without power for the next several days, and that, indeed the winds
were tornado-like, but were actually a rare weather phenomenon known as a
derecho. The following morning, still with
no power, she also lost her cell phone coverage, thus leaving her and many like
her with no internet, tv, phone, or radio to receive outside communication, or
to send it.
Late that day, with national news providing updates, I quickly and haphazardly packed a bag, and
headed North to bring whatever relief I could, and the next several days became
an adventure and a joy. I saw little
physical destruction except for lots of fallen trees and tree limbs, but the
challenges of living without electricity were apparent in every direction. Not partial to residences, the outage hit
anything in the wind’s path. Traffic lights were not working, hotels were
either closed down with no power or filled to no vacancy. Restaurants were either closed with no power
or dealing with long lines of customers who were living in hotels or wishing they
were. Some gas stations were dark. Grocery stores had perishables roped off as
off-limits. Stores and gas stations
lucky enough to be open were out of ice, flashlights, and batteries, which
everyone needed.
But I saw something else that was quite amazing. People giving rides to strangers, a neighbor
lending another neighbor her car to go to work, friends opening their homes to
friends, and/or driving by to be sure they’re OK, complete strangers with
nothing else to do but stand outside a restaurant or in their neighborhood street exchanging personal stories of the storm. Fascinating stories about horizontal and green lightning, about people not being able to get to their cars for days, about trees falling on houses, or trees falling on cars, even someone who baked cookies on top of her car and someone who awoke to the hissing sound of a fallen live wire and looked outside to see her car tires on fire. People who are normally far too busy to say more than a passing “good
morning” to each other are now connecting and offering any kind of help they
have to offer.
What a joy to be a part of such an event, where, like in the
aftermath of 9-11, people forget for a time about their differences, and
everyone is family. Even the closest of
friends come together in new ways when faced with trying situations. These have
been challenging days, but the challenges will pass, and what will remain will
be special memories of pulling together and learning to laugh despite life’s unexpected
detours.
This week has reminded me of the big ice storm of 2002,
which memorably hit on my birthday, when I was among the thousands without
power. By the second day, the inside of
my house was as wintry cold as the ice-covered world outside, and there was no way I
was venturing out in my car onto that ice.
To the rescue, however, came some wonderful friends who took me in, not
knowing they too would lose power soon after.
So we camped inside their house, with a kerosene heater, and I still
have the happiest memories of our time together.
I’ve witnessed in other cultures that it’s humanly possible
to exist day to day as one big family. Rural
Hondurans and Ecuadorians who had no electricity, running water, or personal
valuables, but they were rich in family and neighbor relationships. The Pennsylvania Amish working together to
raise their barns and live off the land. My own family in
previous generations, working together with neighbors to harvest each other’s
tobacco crops or shuck the corn. Hard work, fun times, special memories. But
for us with all our busyness and our hunger for bigger and better accumulations,
I think the best we can do is to look forward to those unexpected bad times
when we will slow down and be reminded that somehow, mysteriously we are all connected.
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