Unfortunately, holidays in America means television viewing -- like watching the parades in the morning or ball games in the afternoon or semi-traditional tear-jerker seasonal movies in the evening.

It also means exposure to advertising.

I could ordinarily tune it out, being little more than background noise -- but one advertiser has gotten under my skin.

It's just plain wrong to use Aerosmith's "Dream On" in any ad.

Let alone for a freaking Buick.

I suppose the next thing they're going to try to tell me is that it's not my grandpa's Buick Roadmaster...

Yeesh.  Gives me the heebie-jeebies to even ponder the considerable dissonance of Aerosmith and Buick combined on television.

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1:23:50 PM    comment []

At 5:16 pm, the house went dark.

The power flickered off then on several times between 5:10 and 5:16, as if to provide advance warning. 

It really wasn’t a surprise, though; the warning wasn’t necessary.  The snow was wet and heavy, streaming out of the northeast from off the lake.  Just the kind of storm that might load up trees with ice and slushy snow, snapping off branches and taking out the power.  Northeasters here are nothing to sneeze at; the wind was blowing crisply at 20 to 30 miles per hour, pelting the new house and the construction crew with beads of sleet and chunky snow as they put in the windows.  They flew about their work, mounting five new windows in less than 30 minutes.  The last crewmember left the site at 4:30 pm, leaving me to sweep hurriedly and race home.

Race.  As if.  Traffic stood still at the next major intersection.  I’d forgotten the first snow makes drivers over-cautious; they creep along, willing to give up precious hours in traffic in that first snow.  I took a left-hand turn and went the opposite way around, heading home against the stream of crawling traffic.

I’d managed to get the kids hurriedly bundled and outside to play in the white stuff, had just sat down with a hot cup of tea, when the lights went out.  I could hear the kids squealing outside in the snow.  Funny, but with the power on, I can’t hear them when they’re outside.  My daughter realized the lights were out from outside in the dusk; she was shouting at me from the lawn, asking whether the lights were on.

Nope.

Time to get out the candles.  Throw a log or two in the fireplace.

The kids were a little concerned, their giddiness about the first snow fading away to puzzlement tinged with fear.  How long would the power be out?  What do we do now?  Questions and more questions.

First, we get the analog phone out and plug it in, see if it’s working.  It did.

Next, we call the power company, in case no one else on the block called in to report the outage.  It was rush hour when it happened; many folks weren’t home yet, and many more may not have analog phones.  It was pretty obvious that there was no power up and down the street; there should have been lights on in the windows of homes around us in the growing darkness.

The kids wait, holding their breath, wanting the pronouncement.

2:00 am is the expected time of repair.

The questions fly as furiously as the snow at this point.  I can’t even manage to get a word in edgewise until they pause to take a breath.  Yes, there’s still water.  Yes, we can eat food in the fridge for dinner, but we should keep the fridge closed as much as possible.  Yes, you can still use the toilet.  No, there won’t be any television this evening.  No, you won’t be able to get on the computer.  Yes, we can watch a DVD on my laptop, but the battery may not last long.  Yes, we will be plenty warm.  Yes, we can cook dinner in the fireplace.  No, I don’t know when you dad will be home; the snow will slow him down.  Yes, we can put on the radio.  Yes, you can use your GameBoy as long as the battery holds out.

After the blizzard of questions came the search for flashlights and batteries.  I wasn’t worried about them, but the kids obviously felt better once they were each armed with a flashlight to ward off the dark.

I went outside into the wet cold stillness, brought in some bricks from the yard and a grill from the barbeque, set them in the fireplace.  Leftover steak and sliced potatoes packaged in foil, set on the makeshift grill made sizzling noises as they cooked over the flames.  We ate in front of the fire, listening to the radio, talking about times past and what it must have been like to live before electricity.

We settled down on the couch, bundled under a pile of blankets, to watch a DVD on my laptop.  The fire popped and hissed; the candles flickered.  Two small heads grew heavy on my shoulders as we drifted off to sleep sometime after the laptop battery gave out.

When the power came back on, I woke with a start.  I had the impression that a stranger had entered the house, but it was only the sound of various appliances coming back up.  The kids were still hard asleep, worn out from the excitement of the snow and the darkness.

I changed the time on the clocks, shut off the lamps that came back up when the power returned.  With the fire still hissing and the den dark once again, I crawled back under the blankets between the kids and went back to sleep.

This is the way it’s supposed to be, I thought as I snuggled deeper beneath the blankets and between the dozing kids.  Cozy, dark, warm, and thankful on the eve of Thanksgiving Day.

Wishing you and yours much to be thankful for today.

7:56:46 AM    comment []