My wife and I live in northern New York, on an island in the St. Lawrence River. We are part of the long, glassy ground zero of the ice storm that caused such problems in the northeast over the weekend. It made the National news. Our part of northern New York is that sort of place; our weather is more likely to make the news than anything else.
The freezing rain started last Friday night, and a by late Saturday afternoon, when our power went out, we had over an inch of ice on everything: trees bent double, wires sagging down, roads like skating rinks, cars sheathed in a tough shell of ice. We got more freezing rain that evening, but lucked out when during the night it changed to a mixture of freezing rain, sleet, snow, and ice pellets. We got three inches of that, and though it was hard to drive through--the consistency of wet sand with a hard half-inch cap--it was easier to walk on than the glare ice coating everything below it. We got a bit more freezing rain the next 24 hours, but not enough to make things much worse before we dropped into the deep freeze.
The loss of electricity isn't really a big deal for us. We heat with wood, have a gas range, habitually have extra water stored away, along with batteries, gas tubes for the propane lamp, and enough food to last weeks. We rode out the big ice storm of '98, when the roads were impassible the first few days because of downed trees and wires, and didn't get electric service back for 21 days. We get blizzards and other weather events. So this wasn't really a big deal for us, personally. We missed running hot water, and TV and internet access, but just heated water on the wood stove and range, and listened to more NPR, only on a battery powered radio, not the stereo. I'd planned on baking fruitcakes, but the oven has an electric igniter.
But no one is an island, even when you live on one. Also without power were my wife's brother, a 70+ year old with schizophrenia who lives next door to us, and my mother, a feisty but frail lady in her eighties who defiantly lives by herself about a mile away, and we take their care very personally. My brother in law Jan's power went out the same time as ours, my mother's held until 10 Saturday night.
In an outage there are the necessities to cover: heat, light, water, cooking. We went next door and got the battery lamps set up, the water jugs out, the back-up heater running, instructions laid down. Jan was set, he could still cook on his gas stove, though his microwave was dead.
But the next morning we learned that my mother's power had failed in the night. So the same routine was necessary for her: heat, light, water, cooking. Plus one odd problem. She uses a lift chair, and with the power out her chair was stuck in the up position from the night before; she could lean back against it, but not sit down. But she had a couple portable power packs with 300 watt inverters--that I'd insisted she keep charged--and one of them provided power for her chair. So she was set up with five necessities: heat, light, water, her chair functioning, and a small camp stove set up so she could make tea and cook.
Her power came back on about 3 Sunday afternoon. Big relief. Our power went back on about 4:30 that afternoon, and we rejoined modern times. Everything was great--until her power went out again Sunday night. So back to her place and repeat process that night, and in the morning. Improve on her situation where possible. We came up with a better, easier to operate heater. Set up another power pack to charge her cell phone batteries, and run a heating pad.
So last night about seven I went up to her place again, trip number 10? 20? I lost count. The power was supposed to have come back on around 3 in the afternoon, but didn't. The plan was to run both heaters to really heat the house up for the night, then after she went to bed cut back to the smaller, easier to operate heater that would keep the place in the low sixties and kill the battery lamps, then go home.
Just as she was about to get up to go to bed--assisted by her re-powered lift chair--the lights came on again. A blast of light and noise as the furnace and fridge and other appliances came back from the dead. Surprised the hell out of us. "What the f--?" may have been uttered by at least one of us.
So she got her power back Christmas eve, and that was my best present: her having her heat, lights, electric range, and running water back. I could stop worrying quite so much. Not stop entirely, but ease back off red line to the normal background of worry about her.
It's Christmas day. The power is holding, but we still carry flashlights in our pockets. There is still an inch or more ice on all the trees and power lines. If it gets windy, or we get wet snow, more trees, limbs, and wires will come down. There are still crews--hardy, hard-working, under-praised crews--out there trying to get power restored to everybody. Working in temps that have been running from 10 below to 12 above. We might get a thaw next Saturday. We sure hope so.
I'm not a Christmas person, I'm one of those people who look forward to it being over, but I'm sure grateful for getting the present of power for my mother on Christmas eve. And with it the gift of a little more peace of mind for me in the 24 hours since.