Hello everyone!
I like to think my blog reaches across the globe, spreading laughter and general silliness to folks no matter what language they speak. So today, while sitting at my desk waiting for an email from my employer that may, or may not, mean a whole ton of free time next week, I thought about our current "social distancing" and quarantines thanks to Covid-19 and weirdly I feel a bit the way I did many years ago while growing up in the Flint, Michigan area.
As a side note, yes, I grew up in the area where the water has been silly with lead for years. Sort of explains a few things about me, doesn't it?
Anyway...
Winters along the edges of Michigan tend to involve a lot more ice than I've seen in Wisconsin or Minnesota. (The other places I've lived.) When I was a teacher in the Detroit area, the layer of ice on top of the snow was so hard and second grader could walk on it without breaking through.
Back in the mid 70's, it was not uncommon to lose electricity in the winter as power lines broke under the weight of the ice encasing them. One such winter, the outage was very widespread, and repair crews were stretched thin, meaning, in my household where Dad and Mom both taught school, we were all home, in the dark, for the duration.
Now, kidlings, let me explain something about power outages in the 70's. Anything that was wireless ran on batteries and batteries cost money and we didn't have any money. So, my brother and I played in our rooms, separately, because playing together got to be too noisy for my mom, who was tense. (Face, it, that woman was tense throughout the entirety of my childhood. Moms didn't drink wine during the day yet and the only thing that relaxed my mom was watching her "soaps" which she did two hours every day. "As the world Turns" and "Guiding Light." This was before Tivo, dvr, and even vhs. Somewhere, those shows were running, but in our part of town, we had no power, which meant we had no TV, which meant no soaps for mom. Basically, she and dad sat at the kitchen table, next to the biggest window, and read books or stared at each other. Electric stoves meant cold sandwiches for every meal. And no electricity meant every time someone opened the fridge my father would yell, "GET OUT OF THERE YOU'RE LETTING THE COLD OUT!"
The worst of it was the water situation. We were on a septic system and well. We needed Electricity to stop the water from running. This meant we couldn't really do laundry, wash dishes, get drinks of water or...and this is my point...flush the toilet.
My parents were big on limiting the number of flushes.
Now, it's not like this went on for weeks and weeks. I was a kid, so it seemed like forever, but we were probably without power four days, tops. Friday, over the weekend, and fixed by Monday, is my guess. My bother and I were fine. We dragged toys up from the windowless basement room and played in our own rooms. I read as much as I could until it got too dark, or until my mom found the flashlight I snuck from my dad's workbench. (This implies my father used his work bench for something other than general junk storage. He did not. My dad is a man of books, not so much with the working with his hands, at least not back then. Now, well, now he's learned a ton of repair stuff. Mostly because Mom learned first.)
Anyway, the worst of it was that my parents somehow thought that if we slept a lot the time would go faster and their lives would be easier. I mean...okay. But back then I did not love naps like I do now. I was maybe eight. Who loves naps when they're eight?
So at some point in this shut down, everyone had found a place to lie down and we were all NAPPING. Except, well, I had to go.
So I went.
And I flushed.
I'm eight. Potty training wasn't that far removed from my brain. I flushed out of habit, even though my mom taped a sign to the toilet tank "DO NOT FLUSH."
From comfort of the couch, over the sound of the running toilet, my mother yelled, "WHO FLUSHED?"
This caused my father to burst out of the bedroom. We lived in a tiny little place, and he was a tall guy. He filled the narrow hallway, and his booming voice has always, always been a giant deterrent against general tomfoolery in my life. "You're not supposed to flush!" He said loudly.
"I forgot!"
"You can't forget stuff like that! Now, go to your room and lie down!"
More than four decades later, I wonder if this wasn't the start of my bathroom issues.
Anyway, I went to my room, weeping. I buried myself under all of my covers. I was convinced at that age if I hid under my covers nothing could hurt me. Not robbers, not angry parents, not rattlesnakes. (That's a story for another day.) So I hid.
A few hours later, darkness now settling upon us all, my mom told us that we, and by we I mean mom, my brother and I, were going to her friend's house across town. They had power. They were going to make dinner for us. Dad was going to stay home and eat cold meatloaf sandwiches by candlelight in case the repair guys showed up.
When we got to the friend's house, everything was dark. "Oh I hope they didn't lose power too," mom muttered, easing the light brown station wagon into the driveway.
No, mom's friend met us at the door. Her house smelled awesome! More importantly, I heard the distinct sounds of a television playing. Sure, the boy of the house was in my class and was a totally annoying guy who didn't like me. But, on the plus side, his TV worked and his mom let him watch 6 Million Dollar man, which my mom did not, but what, my mom's going to send me out of the room?
The reason the house was dark was because the friend lit candles. "For Ambiance" she said. That was the first time I'd ever heard that word and the first time I'd seen candles used for fun.
Which started me on the path to my current Partylite addiction, I'm sure.
Anyway, it was a great meal. I got to see television. We may have even slept over at their house, since they had, you know, HEAT, and we did not.
The point of this all is, my friends, is that we will be okay. It's going to be a struggle, sure. But we are far better stocked and set up for quarantine and social distancing than my family ever was for a four day black out.
Wash your hands, stay home as much as possible. Check in on your elderly friends and family, see if they need something when you do head out to the grocery store.
Also, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL EATERIES AND COFFEE SHOPS! These small, local places are suffering. Get carry out, call for delivery, buy gift cards. Don't let small business die!
We got this!
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