“Severe weather,” as so many folks like to describe the various weather occurrences, most often in winter, send pangs of fear up and down many a spine. This includes a great deal of folks who call themselves Mainers. I surely don’t want to point fingers or create rules, but it seems to me that a true Mainer, one who embodies those qualities and characteristics we recognize as vital to a Maine soul, simply accepts precipitation in a multitude of forms. This is not to say that we always rejoice in harsh conditions, but we recognize that life can (and does) continue despite the inches of snow or ice on the road.
Like many other Mainers last week, as the freezing rain fell, coating every pine needle and blade of grass, I thought back to the Ice Storm of ’98. Wow, 1998? Over a decade ago? That seems hardly believable. As I sit comfortably on the sofa at my brother’s, basking in woodstove warmth and lantern glow, I remember similar scenes from the two weeks my family survived and thrived without electricity. Lacking artificial light for days on end, one begins to realize a few things. The first is the glory of sunlight. And that one must use it wisely and not squander its generous rays. Our days gained a structure we had not known or needed before. Although tasks took longer, there was something enjoyable in the routines. After a few days it didn’t seem bothersome to carry a candle around, or heat up water on the woodstove to scrub your face. And it didn’t seem too unusual to carry bucketfuls of melted ice to the bathroom to flush the toilet.
I do not want to paint too rosy a picture and thereby misinform you of the drawbacks of the new life forced upon us. Frustration with other family members eventually ran high, given the tight quarters and constant companionship. But all in all, things were placid. Our daytime was spent carving out ice chunks to melt indoors, reading in broad daylight, cooking on the stove, and slipping and sliding our way down the road for walks. Most evenings we ate dinner, played Rook and retired early to bed.
We were among the fortunate. Heat galore, plenty of food and drink, and brimming bookshelves ensured a safe and mostly enjoyable couple of weeks. But those without the essentials found themselves cold and desperate. Our dirt road was impassable and we could only check on and help those within walking distance. Thankfully, most families nearby had either generators or alternative sources of heat to keep warm.
Last Thursday night I slept on the sofa to be nearer the stove and its pleasing glow. Early Friday morning I called work to find that I did not have to go in, and could instead return to slumber. But before my eyelids closed again, I looked outside with awe. The ice accumulation had grown considerably from the night before, and the additional ice mixed with a thin layer of snow coated everything. I walked around in the afternoon awestruck at the layers of ice thick on everything the freezing rain could touch. The pine tree boughs hung scarcely above the ground, weighted down with all the ice.
I had planned to gather friends for a game night, but suspected that risking one’s life for Monopoly or Boggle seemed unlikely (not to mention my warning of the power outage). But I am always happy to be proved wrong and so it was that I welcomed not just one but four friends into my home for a lantern lit game night. Pizza was warmed up on the woodstove, water was boiled for hot cocoa and the ice cream kept cold on the doorstep while we sipped and laughed the evening away. These folks, well, they are true Mainers and I commend them.
