When I was a kid, snow days were magical. Magical because it was Buffalo, NY and snow is one of the six elements up there: water, fire, air, earth, snow, and the Bills and you don't cancel school for snow. Magical because this was a time when kids were being brought up mainly to suffer. Throw some bread bags over those worn out boots and just walk yourself to school; you will be fine. Magical because we went to bed wondering and woke up to a beautifully covered world of white. Magical because the days was ours to go out and play and get so cold and come back in and get warm and then put on damp, smelly mittens and boots and do it again. Magical.
When I moved to Dallas and experienced my first snow and ice storm, it was a world of wonder. Wondering why I was the only person on the road? Wondering where the snow plows were and why hadn't anyone salted the streets? Wondering why I was the only one in the little hotel office when I walked in? My general manager burst in about ten minutes later, said he knew I would be there, and had something for me to do. He needed me to drive two stranded guests to their location. Wondering why it was too dangerous to send the hotel van out and not the girl with the crappy car? I went and it was wild; we slid all over the tollroad. My passengers were from Michigan and we laughed and wondered about this frozen Texas world. When I got back, I got a round of applause AND a giant chocolate chip cookie and the twenty-year old child I was thought that was a fair trade.
And then I moved to Austin and I had to learn to not find winter storms a time for wonder or magic, just fear. Winter storms in Austin mean ice and ice is fierce. It is formidable. It bends things to its will and shatters what lies beneath. Ice is harrowing. Don't drive on it. Ice is tricky. It covers the world in a glistening layer of white that looks like a giant's exhaled breath captured the world silent and still all while waiting to crash and destroy. Ice means lying awake and hearing the CRACK of a tree branch snapped by the weight of ice layered upon it. The WHOOSH as it hits the ground and the ching-ching-ching as frozen leaves skitter away. And you hear it again and again and again and wait. Wait to see if this is the branch that hits the power line. This is the siren going by that means the transformer is on fire. Wait. Listen. Wait. Until the world goes dark; all the lights blink off, the hum of the refrigerator is silenced, and you are enveloped in a world of stillness and wonder how long this time?
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| deceptively beautiful. |
I was fortunate during the last Snow-apocalypse that I had water and electric the entire time. I know I was fortunate. I begin any retelling of events from that time with "I know how lucky I was..." Not so this time. My power went out at 8:39am on Wednesday morning. It is 1:13pm on Sunday and it is still not on. I have thrown out all the food in my fridge and freezer. The smell from my dishwasher is not a pleasant one. I have been fortunate to have a place to stay and am grateful. I am also really annoyed. I have to start this work week off, a week with three soccer games, with no food, no meals made, and no word of when I will get my power back.
Oh, wait a minute. I did hear from a neighbor who heard from a neighbor who heard from a lineman that it could take UP TO A WEEK to get the parts for the transformer. It is 2023 and I am getting information like a game of Telephone and that is crazy! Austin Energy isn't answering their phone (automated stuff only), hasn't called me back as promised, and keeps sending general emails out saying they are still working on it. 92% have power restored and look at us go! As one of the lowly 8%, I have to say not good enough. Send that generalized crap out day one or maybe day two. Day five? I would like a phone call from their president explaining to me why my little pocket of civilization can't have nice things like power and offering me an HEB gift card to compensate for all the food I had to toss.
This is going to happen again. Global warming assures us that this will happen every year. Every winter. Ice will come and lay havoc to the world we know and our utilities HAVE to do better. I am not talking linemen, or lay people, or the ones out there in that ice fixing what they can. The companies themselves need to stand up and say things! No more generalized emails! Say my name in them! Refer to where I am so I don't think maybe I am crazy and am the only person without power. A phone call. From a human. Saying crazy things like I am sorry, I know this is a pain in the ass, and what can we do. Or even just why the power can still be out.
Austin Energy has to do more. It does. It's communication is appalling. If they ever called me back, I would tell them. Better yet, they should hire me. I will be the new Director of Communications and fix the fixable by being accountable and transparent. I will give them all the words to say, they will say them, and those left without power won't be left wondering. They can make a plan, know that there is an end in sight, and maybe, just maybe, still find some magic in a world covered with white.
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