Off The Grid

By TAD BARTIMUS

Mozart was coming from the radio, the refrigerator was humming away and this column was half-written on the computer as I talked to my friend on the telephone halfway across the country. Then everything stopped.

One blink: My friend disappeared in a static wave, the orchestra violins fell silent, the fridge sputtered to a stop, and the computer screen went black. 

It's one thing to feel sorry for Californians enduring rolling blackouts; it's another to find yourself in the same predicament. It's not that my power company shut off the electricity on purpose, as PG&E did, but that my 110 volts simply vanished. 

Twenty-four hours after the power sputtered back on, local experts still don't know why a transformer at the substation blew. Two thousand people in my area are getting by on a temperamental emergency generator while the power company "studies the problem."

Uh huh. Which is why I'm stocking up on candles, charcoal for the barbecue, flashlight batteries and lamp oil. I get the feeling a permanent "fix" could be weeks away. And I bet it's going to cost us. Convenience always does.
Falling off the power grid reminds us how wonderful hot water feels in the shower, how good ice tastes in a drink, how comforting it is to be able to read a book in the middle of the night.

We were lucky we'd saved our old phone because the fancy new one with the answering machine didn't work. The propane stove wouldn't light until I realized I needed to strike a match to the gas to replace the electric starter. No television or radio meant no news or weather reports. Hours passed that I viewed as wasted because I couldn't do all the things I'd planned: wash clothes, write this column, send faxes, iron a shirt, vacuum the living room. Twilight settled in, and we grumpily prepared to spend the evening in the dark.

Except we didn't. We had a leisurely dinner by candlelight and moonlight, read our books the way Abraham Lincoln did, actually talked to one another and savored the peace and quiet.

Just before an early bedtime, I went to put away something in the refrigerator and noticed a dim light in its interior. Slowly, slowly, power was being fed into the empty lines. After a couple of false starts, the lamp between our two reading chairs lit up. We were plugged in again.

Being off the grid was an abrupt reminder of our tenuous connection to the interconnected world. As if the West Coast's ongoing power troubles weren't enough warning, we ought to be aware of our interdependence. If a coal train derails there, we feel it here. If a heat wave strikes here, air conditioners don't work there. Our small world has finite resources being stretched to the limit.

As much as my husband and I enjoyed the tranquil respite forced on us by the power failure, we've decided to get serious about investigating a wind generator. We'll add to the solar water collector already on our roof, and a water catchment system eventually will save rain.

We'll also be more vigilant about turning off the lights. Candlelight dinners are wonderful, but not every night.

© 2001 The Women Syndicate

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© 2001 The Women Syndicate. The content on these pages is the property of The Women Syndicate and may not be used without express written permission. Contact friends@tadbartimus.com