NEVER ASSUME ANYTHING, were the words my journalism professor wrote on a chalk board in the old journalism building at Michigan State University in the fall of 1979 as the leaves changed colors and my new educational adventure began. As he turned to face the small group of wide-eyed freshmen, each seated in front of a manual typewriter--already outdated as we had been typing on electric typewriters in high school for years--he offered this explanation: Because when you ASSUME, you make an ASS out of U and an ASS out of ME, as he underlined parts of the word "assume" to make his point. This has continued to be one of my life mottos.
Though I try never to assume anything, many others do. This became clear to me in our recent ice storm.
Choices present themselves to each person when it comes to deciding how to navigate oneself through this life, and when temperatures plummet causing ice to form, trees to break and power lines to snap, there are different ways in which to handle this situation. Because we actually choose to live without electricity for at least a week a year when we camp, we are well-equipped with the kind of coolers that will keep food cold in the middle of a North Carolina summer for up to four days and can certainly stand up to the demands of cold weather. Our Coleman camp stove preexists our marriage and though I have never successfully lit the thing, I am married to someone who can. So boiling water for coffee that we grind with a hand grinder and later cooking a variety of tempting meals is not a problem.
Because we live in a subdivision with community wells, the water remains on during times when electricity is nonexistent so we are able to use the facilities and even wash our dishes by hand--something I had grown quite accustomed to in the time it took for us to replace our broken dishwasher. Lanterns and flashlights are always at the ready if we need them, and that Y2K candle we pull out now and then still has a ways to go before it will be used up. A book light clipped to my sweatshirt as a sort of beacon to ward off the darkness, giving me a Borg-like appearance (if you are a Star Trek fan), provided an amazing amount of light and entertainment as we were growing bored playing cards.
We had installed a gas fireplace after the last time we went without power quite a few years ago for a period of 9 or 10 days vowing to never be that cold again. At that time the fireplace stood empty and though we were not supposed to be making a real fire in it, we did just that to keep ourselves from freezing. When our furnace then did not work after the power had come back on and we had to call a repairman, he looked at me with kindness in his eyes and said, "Ma'am, it is colder in your house than it is outside," as I tried to hold it together and not seem as hysterical as I felt. As if being wrapped in a blanket, wearing layers of mismatched clothes, wandering around in a dark, cold house that was getting messier by the minute, smelling like smoke, with children clutching my knees begging for their next meal was not enough to give him a true sense of what I was up against.
But my little boys have grown into men--men with friends who had electricity or generators they could spend time with as we had little to offer that resembled their normal lives. The best we could do was take them to the health club for hot showers. Our monthly budget did not allow for turning this natural disaster into some sort of vacation. So we endured.
Because we live outside of the city limits, it took longer for our power to be restored and those I work with in town offered me much compassion and kindness as I had to return to work before our household would be returned to normal. Days without electricity seemingly stretch on a lot longer as everything stops and the work of survival becomes the constant. Though some people bunked with friends and family or found adequate accommodations at a local hotel, these were not options for us. We would make do with what we had.
At four o'clock in the afternoon as I was staring at the men gathered outside of my house on day number five, feeling less charitable than ever yet knowing these men were really tired and I should be feeling grateful that they were working so hard on my behalf, I instead felt like yelling at them Clint Eastwood-style, "Get off my lawn!" Gabriel, home from college for what he will consider the worst spring break of his life, first heard the beeps as we saw the beginning flickers of our house coming back to life. But my joy was short-lived as cable/internet remained dormant.
I then went to work and everyone rejoiced that power was restored. When I pointed out that I was still without cable and internet they laughed and told me to get over it. How sad it would be for me to miss my favorite programs, they said rather mockingly. I don't care about television, I said. I have been cut off from the world. It was as though I were speaking in a foreign tongue. Oh, by the way, why hadn't I responded to the recent emails sent by our director, she wondered. Why did I not participate in the online discussion we were supposedly having about choosing make-up days at our preschool? Why had I not posted on Facebook or seen the posts of others? Why did I go room to room before our power was restored looking for a phone charger for my old, outdated cell phone that was about to die?!
My plight became a joke. Though I got to see the hundreds of emails (most of them not vital) one afternoon at Starbucks on my son's laptop, I was still living an unrestored life. Though others assumed I could communicate, we could only call out on the old rotary phone hard-wired into our house from the previous owners that still works when the power goes out, and call or text with our cell phones. Technologically-limited, I tried not to assume that others would bear me any ill will. I forgave them for making assumptions.
Yesterday, one week since my connection to my world had died, I decided to go to the public library as was suggested by those who would never do this. Walking inside I realized how much I missed going to the library and how much things have changed with our online lives. As I went about searching for a computer, and not finding one available in the whole place, a calm came over me and I decided to go shopping at the thrift store run by the junior league. I knew this would cheer me up. I thought about how the women who had donated those clothes no doubt had whole house generators or the means to spend time at their vacation homes with every modern convenience. As I was buying another skirt for the kind of prices even I can afford, I noticed a handwritten sign with a word misspelled, giving me momentary satisfaction. I thought about my first boss always saying, "If they are so smart, they should be rich" as I walked to the minivan trying to prepare myself to go home to my communication-less life. I AM smart. I SHOULD be rich.
Unable to handle seeing that flashing orange light that indicates that internet is not working, I chose to instead turn on the television, and there in living color were programs that I was glad to see even if I did not care to watch them. I ran to my computer, took a deep breath and life began again.
Though I try never to assume anything, many others do. This became clear to me in our recent ice storm.
Choices present themselves to each person when it comes to deciding how to navigate oneself through this life, and when temperatures plummet causing ice to form, trees to break and power lines to snap, there are different ways in which to handle this situation. Because we actually choose to live without electricity for at least a week a year when we camp, we are well-equipped with the kind of coolers that will keep food cold in the middle of a North Carolina summer for up to four days and can certainly stand up to the demands of cold weather. Our Coleman camp stove preexists our marriage and though I have never successfully lit the thing, I am married to someone who can. So boiling water for coffee that we grind with a hand grinder and later cooking a variety of tempting meals is not a problem.
Because we live in a subdivision with community wells, the water remains on during times when electricity is nonexistent so we are able to use the facilities and even wash our dishes by hand--something I had grown quite accustomed to in the time it took for us to replace our broken dishwasher. Lanterns and flashlights are always at the ready if we need them, and that Y2K candle we pull out now and then still has a ways to go before it will be used up. A book light clipped to my sweatshirt as a sort of beacon to ward off the darkness, giving me a Borg-like appearance (if you are a Star Trek fan), provided an amazing amount of light and entertainment as we were growing bored playing cards.
We had installed a gas fireplace after the last time we went without power quite a few years ago for a period of 9 or 10 days vowing to never be that cold again. At that time the fireplace stood empty and though we were not supposed to be making a real fire in it, we did just that to keep ourselves from freezing. When our furnace then did not work after the power had come back on and we had to call a repairman, he looked at me with kindness in his eyes and said, "Ma'am, it is colder in your house than it is outside," as I tried to hold it together and not seem as hysterical as I felt. As if being wrapped in a blanket, wearing layers of mismatched clothes, wandering around in a dark, cold house that was getting messier by the minute, smelling like smoke, with children clutching my knees begging for their next meal was not enough to give him a true sense of what I was up against.
But my little boys have grown into men--men with friends who had electricity or generators they could spend time with as we had little to offer that resembled their normal lives. The best we could do was take them to the health club for hot showers. Our monthly budget did not allow for turning this natural disaster into some sort of vacation. So we endured.
Because we live outside of the city limits, it took longer for our power to be restored and those I work with in town offered me much compassion and kindness as I had to return to work before our household would be returned to normal. Days without electricity seemingly stretch on a lot longer as everything stops and the work of survival becomes the constant. Though some people bunked with friends and family or found adequate accommodations at a local hotel, these were not options for us. We would make do with what we had.
At four o'clock in the afternoon as I was staring at the men gathered outside of my house on day number five, feeling less charitable than ever yet knowing these men were really tired and I should be feeling grateful that they were working so hard on my behalf, I instead felt like yelling at them Clint Eastwood-style, "Get off my lawn!" Gabriel, home from college for what he will consider the worst spring break of his life, first heard the beeps as we saw the beginning flickers of our house coming back to life. But my joy was short-lived as cable/internet remained dormant.
I then went to work and everyone rejoiced that power was restored. When I pointed out that I was still without cable and internet they laughed and told me to get over it. How sad it would be for me to miss my favorite programs, they said rather mockingly. I don't care about television, I said. I have been cut off from the world. It was as though I were speaking in a foreign tongue. Oh, by the way, why hadn't I responded to the recent emails sent by our director, she wondered. Why did I not participate in the online discussion we were supposedly having about choosing make-up days at our preschool? Why had I not posted on Facebook or seen the posts of others? Why did I go room to room before our power was restored looking for a phone charger for my old, outdated cell phone that was about to die?!
My plight became a joke. Though I got to see the hundreds of emails (most of them not vital) one afternoon at Starbucks on my son's laptop, I was still living an unrestored life. Though others assumed I could communicate, we could only call out on the old rotary phone hard-wired into our house from the previous owners that still works when the power goes out, and call or text with our cell phones. Technologically-limited, I tried not to assume that others would bear me any ill will. I forgave them for making assumptions.
Yesterday, one week since my connection to my world had died, I decided to go to the public library as was suggested by those who would never do this. Walking inside I realized how much I missed going to the library and how much things have changed with our online lives. As I went about searching for a computer, and not finding one available in the whole place, a calm came over me and I decided to go shopping at the thrift store run by the junior league. I knew this would cheer me up. I thought about how the women who had donated those clothes no doubt had whole house generators or the means to spend time at their vacation homes with every modern convenience. As I was buying another skirt for the kind of prices even I can afford, I noticed a handwritten sign with a word misspelled, giving me momentary satisfaction. I thought about my first boss always saying, "If they are so smart, they should be rich" as I walked to the minivan trying to prepare myself to go home to my communication-less life. I AM smart. I SHOULD be rich.
Unable to handle seeing that flashing orange light that indicates that internet is not working, I chose to instead turn on the television, and there in living color were programs that I was glad to see even if I did not care to watch them. I ran to my computer, took a deep breath and life began again.
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