THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, July 17, 1994 TAG: 9407140166
SECTION: CAROLINA COAST PAGE: 03 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: Ford Reid
LENGTH: Medium: 65 lines
Just when you think you have it all figured out, reality pops out from behind the bush where it has been hiding, stares in your face and smirks.
I like to think of myself as capable of living without every convenience and contrivance that comes along. I dry my clothes on a line and, now and then, I mow my grass with a push mower, just to show that it can be done. I try to stay away from power tools and only advancing age has brought me to a reluctant accommodation with air conditioning.
A few days ago, a mighty thunderstorm approached as I was fixing lunch. Because we had not had rain in weeks and because the temperature had reached 90 or above day after sweltering day, it was a particularly welcome storm.
It turned out that the storm was more like a politician speaking: A lot of wind and thunder but very little rain.
As I spread the peanut butter on the bread, I heard a huge POP! from somewhere nearby.
The lights went out and the refrigerator made a last gasp, then was silent.
This is no big deal, I thought. I don't need electricity to eat my lunch.
Usually, I cruise the television while I eat, catching up on the news, checking on the weather and, if it's late enough, watching an inning or two of the Cubs game.
That was, of course, impossible, but I didn't mind too much.
I finished eating and went back to work, or tried to. I work on a word processor and without power it is as useful to me as a stone tablet and chisel.
I tried to remember how we did it back in ancient times. There was a machine. I believe we called it a typewriter, or something like that.
I might have made a telephone call, but when I picked up the cordless model I realized that it, too, was worthless without power.
I couldn't catch up on the laundry or vacuum the rugs and without fans running the house was beginning to get muggy.
I thought of taking a walk, as much to get out of the house as anything. I was expecting a call, but the answering machine could take care of that, couldn't it?
A quick check showed that, no, it certainly couldn't. Not until the power came back on, anyway.
Music is always my last refuge. When all else fails, when the world comes crashing down on me, when I don't have a shred of an idea in my pitiful little mind, music makes things better.
But not without electricity it doesn't. Not unless I want to listen to myself struggle through my four-tune repertoire on the harmonica.
I was not yet that desperate.
Late in the afternoon, I began to get nervous. I gathered flashlights, candles and a small oil lamp. I began to think that the power would never come back.
I began to realize what a slave I am to electricity.
Then, finally, without warning, it was back. The fans began to hum. The clocks began their annoying flashing and the refrigerator whined.
I cranked up the word processor, put some music on the stereo and went back to work.
It was good to have the power back.
Not that I really need it or anything. by CNB