Mormon Bloggers

Have you heard about Portland, Oregon?  Probably not, unless you live near there.  The whole country has gotten hit so hard with severe weather in the last couple of weeks, nobody is paying much attention to weather stories outside of their local areas. I guess that’s why I hadn’t heard much about it—here in the Boston area we had a severe ice storm that left over a million people without power in the New England area and then a week later, got two and a half feet of snow.  

Well, on December 25th I called my sister-in-law in Portland to wish her a Merry Christmas.  Her first sentiment was, “All I want is some Thai food!”   Apparently, she’d been holed up in her apartment for nine days—unable to get out to work, the grocery store, or friends’ houses, let alone to any Christmas festivities.  Her food supply, her enjoyment of her DVD collection, and her patience with city officials were all running low.   And she was not the exception.  Apparently, all Portlanders were being told to not venture out into the streets, at all.  The whole city had simply shut down; there was no garbage pickup for two weeks, and no mail delivery for a week in some areas.   

Downed branch in Portland 

The problem?  Portland had been hit with a 1-2 punch of snowstorms—giving them a total of a foot and half of the menacing white stuff.  But wait a minute, here in the Boston area we got two and half feet, and the next day, people were at work.  Likewise, cities all over the country had gotten their share of snow as well, and seemed to be able to move their economies forward in spite of the weather.   What in the world was going on in Portland?  Well, a few things.  Portland rarely gets snow, so city officials simply had no contingency plans for a big snowstorm; only a handful of snowplows were on hand to help clear the snow.   Portlanders are also famous environmentalists, which is admirable, but in this case, translates into a complete rejection of using any kind of salt, sand, etc. for minimizing the dangerous icy road conditions.    

The solution that Portland city officials kept telling its constituents?  Well, we’ll just have to wait for a thaw.  Until then, stay in your homes, except that you are required to shovel your walks (Does anyone else see some irony here?).  Ok, so I know Portland is known for rain, not snow, but it’s not like it’s in the tropics—snow simply cannot be dismissed as unlikely and therefore not planned for.    I can understand not wanting to invest in hundreds of snowplows for the once-in-ten-years snowstorm, but city officials can certainly draw up contingency plans for what to do when the severe snowstorm does hits—perhaps jointly invest in many snowplows with other nearby cities and also stockpile materials to reduce icy road conditions (I can’t imagine salt and sand actually go bad and become unusable after a few years, so it should last).   As for the environmental concern, here in the Boston area, people are also pretty committed environmentalists, but there is also the reality of icy roads; using salt to clear roads of ice is the chief way to reduce dangerous conditions and allow people to continue with their work and life plans.   We’re talking about a major US city that essentially shut down for two weeks due to weather, leaving hundreds of thousands without an ability to go to work, attend to vital health needs, or replenish food supplies, much less celebrate the holidays with their loved ones.  Portland’s economic losses must have been vast, much like pouring salt (no pun intended!) into the deep wound of the current economic crisis.  

My sister-in-law's car, with more snow still to come

And what happens when something a lot more serious happens?  A major earthquake or, heaven forbid, a terrorist attack?  I can tell you, I wouldn’t want to be living in Portland for one of those.  What would the response be then?  Just wait until the wind blows all the rubble away?      

All I can say is, right now, it’s snowing outside here, and I can hear that blissful sound of scraping snowplows.   Happy New Year!

Has your area been hit by severe weather?  What has the response been by your local officials?  

New Year’s Eve—a time for setting goals and reviewing past events. Or for sitting in the dark because the power disappeared in a blinding flash. Well, maybe not exactly a flash—more like a few winks and a blink.

“It’s hard to believe it’s New Year’s Eve,” I said to my husband, Russ. “How shall we celebrate?”

He twisted from side to side, reminiscent of something from “The Exorcist” and said with a groan, “I’m celebrating by lying on a heating pad. My back’s killing me.”

“Old fogey,” I muttered, stretching out on the TV room couch for a pre-bedtime nap. It’s hard to snooze, though, when someone in the room keeps muttering and groaning. Not to mention the noise Russ was making. I sat up and peeked through the curtains. The falling rain had turned to icy snow in the dark.

“What year are we moving into?” I asked.

“I’m not sure—maybe 2005,” Russ said.

That’s what happens when you get older. Your memory goes south and each year seems the same as the next. On the upside, however, you can hide your own Easter eggs.

Russ popped in a video. Just as it got interesting, the lights flickered and … the room went dark. I looked out the window again. The whole town was as black as a bucket of pitch.

Grabbing a flashlight, I turned it on. Nothing. I pondered the mysteries of life. Who am I? Where did I come from? Why do flashlight batteries never work when you need them?

Snatching another one, I clicked the button. A dim light the size of a pea shone forth. I ran and grabbed the emergency lantern, then hurried back to the TV room. Struggling to understand the Chinese symbols that explained how to operate it, I leaned close and turned the knob.

Click! The lantern’s 10,000 watts blasted straight into my eyeballs. I fell back onto the couch, and for a few seconds saw nothing but a white light at the end of a tunnel. At first, I thought I’d gone to the next life, but I could hear Russ laughing and feel Corky Porky Pie, our dog, hopping on and off me, so I knew I was still alive.

Eventually, my pupils dilated beyond the size of a dust speck, and normal vision returned. In the meantime, Russ turned on the battery-operated radio in hopes of catching the local news. Instead, we listened to a song that expressed the singer’s grief at his pickup truck rusting and his horse catching a cold.

Just then, the emergency lantern—the one that was so good at blinding people—flickered and died. Russ wandered off in search of matches to light his way to the bathroom, while I contemplated stomping the lantern to smithereens.

It’s a good thing the radio announcer came on at that minute and that he has such a soothing voice. It calmed my stomping impulses. Instead, I pondered the mysteries of life. Who am I? Where did I come from? Why didn’t we charge the lantern months ago?

My thoughts broke as Russ walked in and said, “Just think of all those people in the valley who are standing around at dances, in the dark. Aren’t you glad we were old fogies tonight?”

“At least they could huddle together in a big group for warmth,” I muttered through chattering teeth. Then a thought hit me. “I’m going to the bedroom to turn on the electric blanket.”

Russ watched with a grin as I headed upstairs. After two steps, I turned back sheepishly. “Oops, no electric blanket, either,” I said. “It’s funny what we do out of habit.”

The power failure only lasted about an hour and a half. Bless their hearts, the power company employees gave up their parties, went out in the weather and restored service.

Our celebration wasn’t the way we’d planned it that year, but it was certainly worth recording for posterity. And much more exciting than watching a video.

Which reminds me—New Year’s Eve 2009 is approaching fast and I’ve got to skedaddle. Russ needs my help hooking our electric blanket up to a generator.

(Happy 2009 to all. May the new year bring happiness, health, and prosperity!)

© Cindy Beck, 2008

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