I feel changed by it? in anticlimatic

The ice storm was the closest thing to a religious experience that I’ve had in a while. Never seen anything like it. I live in a city, which for all intents and purposes is really just a town, but it’s not insignificant, and it buried its electrical system many many years ago. I live kind of in the middle of an old residential by this sleepy little river. A place with hundred year old houses big maple trees and street lights every fifty feet or so. Not far away is a regional hospital, which I share an electrical circuit with. So my power almost never goes out, and when it does it’s often broadcast ahead of time and doesn’t last long.

The entire city-
nay, the entire county-
nay, EVERY county in the northern part of the state,

was plunged into cold and darkness for a week. I got off easy with 72 hours, but it was a long and strange 72 hours spent mostly curled up in the easy chair I dragged into the kitchen and parked in front of my 1948 Tappan Oven. I had a modern oven prior, natural gas, that would fire with a hot surface infighter- which is the safe, modern way. Unfortunately it requires 110 volts to work, some of you may have discovered. One can use burners by lighting them with a match with a modern oven when the power goes out, but the function of the oven itself is lost.

I had a chance to replace it when it died, but instead I hauled the ancient oven out of the old upstairs apartment fixed it up and started using that one instead. And that oven lights with a match, every time you want to use it, and the temperature knob is mechanical thermostatic, so I could actually bake while I was at it.

Which I did, here and there, usually by candle and lantern light- usually with ingredients I had to go fetch from outside, from my back porch aka “refrigerator” substitute. It was nice always having the oven ready to go when I wanted to bake something, or just make toast.

Mostly I ran the broiler, and kept it flipped open with my wool socked feet dangling over it. I would also boil a large pot of water at all times, and I would keep it topped off. I’d toss whole cinnamon sticks and the apple cores of apples I was done eating in for aromatics. The pot itself acted as a nice radiator, and the steam helped further heat the area, as well as humify things- which always makes things feel a little warmer on its own I feel.

With just the oven, I was able to hold the kitchen area around 65 degrees all day and evening up until bed. At night it would get down to 15 degrees, and I refused to run the oven or the burners when I wasn’t babysitting it. I’d always wake up to my own breath, throw my fuzzy robe on, step into my cold slippers, rush down to the oven, strike a match and get it fired up.

I’d put water on the tea kettle and make coffee in the French press. Blueberry pancakes on the skillet. Try listening to my battery powered radio by almost all stations, except for a few creepy Christian stations, were silent due to the towers collapsing. Felt a little too “Fallout” for me, so I gave that up quick.

The nights were so black and beautiful. As seen in my previous entry, all of my city was turned into a dark sky park. The second night without power was the night the stars came out, and what an incredible miracle. It was the first time the river had seen the stars since 1830. Felt like the first time I had seen them since about then myself.

In the aftermath and cleanup I find myself dwelling on new and interesting thoughts. Really an incredible experience. On par with eating mushrooms, I’d say.