Powerless, Sort Of, For Three Days

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I am writing this on my laptop on the deck, which vibrates gently because of the small generator that has been running nearly nonstop for three days. The only time the generator is not running is when it runs out of gas. When the generator is not running, we have no electricity. One of the fiercest storms I can recall since returning to Longview more than nine years ago swept through Sunday afternoon, just 30 minutes after my oldest daughter, Kasey, arrived for a visit from Florida.

The power went out at the peak of the storm, and we sat in twilight behind the large picture windows in the living room, watching the tops of trees sway and branches flying to the ground. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, sending our dogs cowering beneath our feet. The two cats, meanwhile, yawned and stretched out. No thunderstorm was going to interfere with their nap time.

Once the storm abated, I checked outside. No trees were down, just boodles of branches and leaves. I had spent most of the previous day cleaning the yard, pressure-washing a retaining wall, and getting the yard in tip-top shape.

Thus life goes. So we did what most East Texans did. We piled in the SUV and headed to a favorite dining establishment for an early dinner. We were famished after witnessing nature’s fury. This turned out to be quite the adventure, with downed trees blocking our path, signal lights not working, and emergency crews already out working. It took about 30 minutes to get to the restaurant, at most three miles away. I am not complaining, since many folks were dealing with trees falling on their homes or vehicles, including in our neighborhood, where a pair of venerable live oaks crashed through the roof on a nearby street. We felt blessed as we crowded into a booth and ordered wings and cold beer.

Throughout our neighborhood, of perhaps 100 houses set beneath canopies of trees along steep hills — for East Texas — generators hum. Most are the portable kind, but a few folks have high-dollar units hardwired into their electrical panel. Those are fueled by natural gas and kick on automatically when the power goes out. I went online to see how much they cost — $5,000. I’ll keep using my little Honda when the power goes out.

I took Kasey to Houston for her flight back to Florida the following day — Memorial Day — and joked that this was good training for hurricane season, which starts in June. She went through her first Florida hurricane last year and was not amused. Before we left, my Beautiful Mystery Companion and I rose early, gulped down Starbucks’ lattes and began cleaning up the yard. We started a little after 7 and were finished by 11 — a pile of brush at the curb and a dozen large yard-waste bags in the bed of the old truck. As I said, we were awfully lucky.

It helps to be adaptable. The generator powered both refrigerators and three small fans, which kept us comfortable as we slept on couches downstairs. A maze of extension cords run throughout the first floor. I even plugged the WIFI router into a power strip that led to the generator and voila, we had Internet access. Since our water is heated by gas, we could still take hot showers, the upstairs bathrooms illuminated by the flashlight app on our smart phones. I read late into the night, a single lamp plugged into the extension cord, the fan whirring. I had to stay up late enough to fill the generator so it would last the night.
A convoy of line repair trucks showed up Wednesday afternoon. I was going to do the typical old guy thing, and ask them how long before power was restored, but spied a neighbor undoubtedly asking the same. So I waved him down and got the scoop. “Very soon,” he said. I hoped he was right.

As I wrote the first line of the last paragraph, I looked up from my perch outside. The lights were shining in the kitchen window. We were no longer powerless. I commenced to coiling up extension cords and putting the house back in order before my peeps came home from work. (I left early to fill the generator again.)

I have great admiration for those men and women who work the lines, after foul weather’s aftermath. Here generally that means it is hot and humid. They often drive here from out-of-state, doing what they can to restore power for the utility’s customers.

Thanks, y’all. That air-conditioning sure feels great.

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