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Suburban War Zone

Suburban War Zone

    The lights (and almost everything else) went out Saturday before Halloween.  The concrete snowfall left us with an arboreal devastation unlike anything to which I had previously been witness. 

    When the lights went out I was replying to Email. Nine days later I was able to press the "Send" button.  Herewith is a graphic report of the storm and its devastation along with illustrations of how we managed to get through it all.

    At the start of our electrical deprivation, frustration was mitigated by the novelty of it all, along with heroic thoughts of our own resourcefulness.

    Time wore on and we wore down.  A neighbor, escaping to the Caribbean, loaned us his generator.  It gave us TV for a couple of nights and took the chill off my den, thanks to a portable radiator I bought three years ago for the basement.  We went to the movies twice.  We stayed in a hotel near JFK Airport the night of the Brooklyn Home Dinner Dance.  We occupied Barbara's sister's bedroom a couple of nights.  Which left us with only four nights to brave the mid 40's in our own home. Only the dog never shivered. 

    Connecticut Light and Power, after many fitful starts, restored power.  Our neighborhood was among the last to be up and shining even though we knew from the beginning where the line break was.

    In keeping with the generally frustrating predicament of a house without electricity, I managed to make things worse on the Saturday before the lights went on again, by totaling my beloved Taurus station wagon in an accident on Rte 66 in Portland CT, on the way to lunch at a classmate's home, before attending the Wesleyan vs. Williams football game in Middletown.  We pretty much escaped injury.  Barbara does have black and blue marks from the seat belt restraints.  I've been limping from who knows what, since the pains arrived the day after the accident.  The doctors have told us we'll live.  Our daughter is giving us her Honda Pilot.  No phone calls, please, concerning this matter.  Here are a couple of photos Betsy took with Barbara's cell phone, while the dear old Taurus waited in the service station to be taken to its final resting place.

After last winter's six feet of snow, August's Irene, and this snow-laden nor'easter, what's left to surprise us?   I really don't want to know.



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