Calm Before the Storm

Hurricane Sandy is coming.  It’s going to be big, and destructive.  This much we know.  The details, as yet, are much less clear. 

The news mavens, always eager to dispense advice, said “prepare.”  Right.  So, prepare we have.  Window screens have been taken down, bathtub filled, gutters cleared of leaves, patio furniture brought inside, potential projectiles removed to the best of our ability. 

We really need to buy a generator.  We’ve been saying this for nearly twenty years – ever since building this house in a neighborhood with underground utilities, which we thought would be our salvation from ever enduring another blackout.  We could not have been more wrong.  The underground wires, you see, are “fed” by a network of above-ground supply wires.  A butterfly flaps its wings five miles to our west, and we go dark.  It's worse here than anywhere else I've lived.  Best laid plans.

We’ve been known to check into a hotel, a few miles closer to civilization, during protracted blackouts caused by winter storms.  That’s been our backup plan, as well as our rationale for not shelling out for an expensive generator (our reasoning being that we can spend many nights at the SpringHill Suites for the cost of the sort of sizable, built-in generator that would be required to power our well pump, furnace, and other essential systems.) 

This time, our backup plan has failed.  Trivia question:  Do hotels have backup generators?  I made several calls today to find out.  Trick answer: For the most part, yes, but only to power the emergency lights in the hallways.  Hot water for a shower, not so much.  With Sandy’s projected  800 mile swath of destruction, I reckon we’d need to head for Canada to be assured of having power.  So we’ll be camping at home this time.

 To be clear, I’m not complaining.  Folks to our south are far worse off.  I’m very concerned about my family of origin, living in New Jersey – Ground Zero for Sandy.  My mother, living alone at 90 years old, is terrified.  I’m powerless to help her, other than by talking by phone to try and keep her calm.  My cousin, living in a flood plain, will surely be evacuated from her home, if she hasn’t already been.  The news reports from the Mid-Atlantic region are becoming increasingly intense.  The Atlantic City casinos are closed, evacuated.  The New York City subway system is shut down.  Public transit into and out of the city will be halted.  The word “unprecedented” is being tossed about with abandon.

Here in Massachusetts, our governor has declared a state of emergency, and closed all schools in the state.  At this moment, all seems eerily normal.  Our elderly dogs are restless.  They know that something’s up.  My daughter, racing to complete her online college applications while we still have internet access, is mildly freaking out.  Poor kid – the deadline isn’t till Thursday (11/1) but, tech-dependent society that we have become, one can no longer apply to college in analog mode.

As for me, now I wait.  It’s going to be a hell of a week.  To my friends and family reading this – stay safe, we’ll all make it through, one way or another.  I don’t know when my little world will go dark, but I’ve no doubt it will be soon; so I’ll see you on the other side.