The week beginning Christmas Day in 2008 and going almost until New Year’s won’t soon be forgotten in our house.
My wife and I had just bought our first house together, a little more than a year after getting hitched. It’s the house we’re still in 12 years later and likely will be until our daughter goes off to college in vaccinated 2028 and beyond. It’s important to note we are surrounded by 40-60 foot trees.
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If you remember, we got whacked by a winter storm that week. One of the worst ever. We had a house full of people for my sister-in-law’s birthday. Like 50 people. Our fridge and freezer were crammed with food. The plan was to have her party (I think it was a Saturday) and then host Sunday brunch the next day. I want to say we had a case of Bloody Mary mix. Family in town... friends crashing on couches.
Well, most of that did happen, and the weather that night of the party was unseasonably warm. Everyone was festive and merry. It was epic.
And then overnight a cold front came through like a freight train with howling winds, snow and ice.
Early the next morning we awoke to a house without power. No generator either. We had just moved in less than three months earlier.
All the catered leftovers. All the fresh food. And no idea when the power would be back.
Soon it became apparent this was no mere outage.
As friends trickled out, and family left to visit the in-laws, day turned to night. The temperature in the house began to drop, even as the fridge and freezers began to warm. Being new homeowners we struggled to find flashlights and candles. Soon it was just me, my wife, our dog Sami and dark stillness.
24 hours went by, then 48, then 60.
And then, at midnight on day three, the power miraculously came back on. I was reading by candlelight on the couch and I remember turning to look out the window. Blinking my eyes, I watched as a rogue gust of wind came through and blew a single mature oak branch off its trunk right onto the power lines behind our house. This caused a blistering shower of sparks and blinding light and that arcing wire sound.
And just like that, total darkness.
By night four the temperature of our house had plunged to 37 degrees inside. My wife and I and the dog were sleeping, or trying to, n an air mattress by our gas fireplace, which gives off almost no heat and is mainly for ambiance. I was miserable and I could certainly tell she wasn’t having it. The dog was at least acting as a bed heater. Chihuahua’s are good at that.
And then with a disgusted flourish straight out of that scene in Planes, Trains & Automobiles when Steve Martin chews out John Candy, my wife threw off the fire-lit covers, stood up, and said…
“That’s it! I can’t take it! I’m going to my parents!”
I of course had to stay behind to make sure the pipes didn’t burst. She got dressed, grabbed the dog, and was gone, which I only knew by sound.
Fast forward to day five and me running down the street in the middle of the night chasing a departing DTE truck that I happened to see drive by. It was clear they didn’t know my plight and I’m screaming and screaming.
“STOP! STOP! STOP!”
The guy stops, rolls down the window and starts shouting at ME to not shout at him. I couldn’t make this up.
Once cooler heads prevailed, I led him to the spot I had witnessed explode and he fixed us up within a few hours. That was Christmas week 2008.
Still don’t have a whole-house generator. Once you’ve survived something like that, a few hours is nothing.