Dominoes

(about 10 years ago; the great ice storm came to North Carolina)

I’m not sure which of the original sins we unintentionally violated, but some real bad mojo seems to be attached to us since our return to the USA. Let’s recount: DotComs collapse taking the rest of the stock market with them; 9/11; worst drought in North Carolina history; UNC basketball team wins only six games all last season; greed and corruption exposed in corporate and spiritual America (OK, that one may be old news).

Now the latest — the worst ice storm on record hits North and South Carolina, leaving two million people, spread over 25000 square miles, without power.

Maybe taking that tag off the mattress was not such a good idea after all.

Mother Nature can be one mean elemental force when she’s a mind to. Our ice storm was the result of two colliding frontal systems, one carrying rain from the south; the other bringing cold air from the north. It began as heavy snow around 3:00pm Wednesday, but quickly became a dense wall of freezing rain and sleet, an unstoppable aerial glacier descending from the sky.

I woke up at 4:00am on Thursday morning to the rifle shot sound of tree limbs and tree trunks cracking from the weight of 3/4 inch of ice. This was followed by the heavy whumpf of a tree hitting the ground–hopefully. I looked out to the west and saw huge flashes of light filling the night sky as transformers overloaded and died in a shower of sparks — electrical dominoes in our presumptuous game of civilization.

The ice-borne gravitational burden proved too much to bear for eight of our stalwart pines, which broke off about 20 feet up, leaving behind jagged spires of lost evergreen potential. Seven trees gave the house a clean miss, but one managed a glancing blow to the roof, bending the rain gutter in a last gasp attempt to stay airborne.

Our arboreal luck did not extend to our little piece of the electrical grid, and we would be consigned to a dark, cold existence for two days and nights. The toughest time was Friday night, when it dropped to 17 degrees Fahrenheit outside and 41 inside. There’s something about the lack of heat (and subsequent potential for physical death) that brings out the hunter-gatherer in all of us. We quickly set about the business of finding fuel, along with about 200,000 of our fellow Tarheelinians. Our trusty fireplace allowed us to camp out in the living room which as the name implies, did indeed allow us to live. I secretly congratulated myself on avoiding rooms called funeral, shroud, or reaper.

I dreamt that night about our inability to find dry wood, and subsequently resorting to breaking up and roasting our furniture to survive. It never came to that but in gazing at our sorry collection of mismatched possessions, I wonder if we wouldn’t have done ourselves and the larger world of interior design a great service.

Many here shared this common ice storm experience, with some funny tales being told. Two guys driving home had a large tree come crashing through their windshield, just missing their personal selves but impaling the vehicle on the ground. The upside, they reported, was that the cabin of their truck is now permanently imprinted with a fresh pine scent.

Stories

When the power went out and the prospects for its immediate return looked grim, I moved our couches into a semicircle around the fireplace, brought down the sleeping bags, saved some water in the tub. Under a cold, dark December sky the kids turned their expectant faces to me.

“Tell us a story”, they said, “tell us your stories.”

For in this moment I am their mage, the tribal storyteller whose magical words can take them to the places only we can find. Such a small gift, I think. One day they will understand that they have given me far more than I could ever give them.

The forest has sung its primordial song, yet the stars still spin above and the sun will be up in the morning.

In the flickering light of the wood fire, I begin.