Opinion: 'War zone' gives perspective

They mean outside, where the destruction to electric poles and tree limbs has been merciless. But I’m also seeing it inside, in my house, where bodies are sprawled everywhere.

It’s not an uncommon sight to see that in our family room, where the son brings home myriad college friends for meals, chocolate chip cookies and movies. But this time, it’s different.

People are coming and going, with hot meals offered and pillows strewn. We unaccountably feel guilty for having power, and food, and offer it indiscriminately as a way to assuage our unearned privilege.

One friend on the opposite end of the spectrum from the students had to be convinced to leave her house, and then only after she was warned of hypothermia. When we welcomed her and cleared a bed, we also warned her that the house was full of loud young people. She gamely said, “That will just make it more fun.”

And that is the attitude that appears to be getting us all through this storm. We are operating outside of our normal behavior, and the things that usually get to us are, simply, not.

Role reversals

I first noticed the reversal when I received a phone call from my sister. This sister, like me, relies on e-mail over actual human contact. What’s more, it wasn’t just one phone call. I think it was actually four in one day, a personal record. We had things to discuss and no Internet access. We just talked.

I again noticed the reversal when I was straining to see the tiny picture on a battery-operated handheld TV set. We pulled out an old corded phone turning our home number into our preferred number. This was same home phone number that we came close to canceling, with the rationale that, “If we want to hear from them, they know our cell numbers.”

Even more ironic was my attempt to move my husband, Paul, and the sound of his voice into another room – while he was tied to the phone and I was trying to listen to the TV news – and then suddenly realizing that I was the one with the portability. We’re not used to being stationary with our phones and portable with our TVs.

Our priorities were rearranged.

We were amused at the differing priorities, identified by age group. My parents’ friends (mostly in their 70s) were willing to drive anywhere in order to get hot coffee. Our daughter and her friends (mostly in their 20s) hooked enough power cords together to attach her laptop to the charger in a pickup truck in order to be able to watch a movie. Our son and his friends roughed it in the residence hall, seeing it as a grand adventure, at least until the third day without a hot shower.

When we got our power back, earlier than most in Springfield, our house slowly filled until we had every bed and couch occupied, and most of the floor space spread with sleeping bags and blankets. We made hot food and told stories, forgetting that we had power and could turn on the TV and computers. They didn’t matter so much – we’d remembered what it was like to talk.

Unhitched yet reconnected

The ice storm meant I didn’t give a speech as scheduled, but I did talk to my children, my parents and many, many friends. It meant that we could be unhitched from our technology, and that we could reconnect with ourselves.

My sister said it well. Once her power was restored, she sent the following e-mail:

A funny thing happened with the breaking of my electronic leash. I have been reluctant to resume the yoke now that it is available again. Weirdly, I am more interested in doing laundry and cleaning the refrigerator than in answering e-mail.

Yes, it looks like a war zone. The few remaining red oaks from Red Oak Drive are gone or damaged, along with the cherry trees, birches and dogwoods. Downed wires and tree branches are scattered and strewn. The silvery ice is eerily similar to photos of nuclear ash. And, yet, there is a certain peace that comes from facing a crisis and remembering what is really important.

Easy for me to say – I have hot water and a blow-dryer. I can feed my family and sleep in my bed. Still, I see it in the storm’s refugees: an attitude of making the best of a bad situation and being thankful for what we do have. Food, shelter, water, essential needs. Warmth, laughter, love, basic needs. And, a great community, where people help others and pull together. Those are the higher level needs that, with luck, we won’t soon forget. Even after the power returns.

Kay Logsdon is Food Channel director for Noble & Associates. She can be reached at kay.logsdon@noble.net.