Ice Storm
by Wil Bosbyshell
We went to bed with snow falling outside. Our son,
Allen, was five years old and loved playing in the snow. But he was asleep and
had been asleep for hours.
I considered, for a nanosecond, waking him up. Nope.
Never wake up a sleeping child.
I woke with a start and sat up in bed. “What woke me
up,” I thought. The answer came to me in the sound of something hitting the
outside of our house hard. The sound was coming from the other side of the wall
behind our bed. As I jumped out of the bed, what sounded like a giant claw
struck the house and slid down grinding and scraping.
I threw up the window blind. My backyard was bright,
brilliant snow reflecting the moon light like a mirror. Everything glittered
and glistened. “What the heck was going on,” I thought. The wind howled and I
saw the honey locust tree next to our house hit the side of our house again. Squinting
into the night, I saw something was wrong with the tree. It was white and shiny
at the same time. I watched the top of the tree bend toward the ground. The
branches of the tree clawed the side of the house again, but this time the tree
didn't recover. The top of the tree kept moving down slowly instead of snapping
back to its normal height. Down and down until the trunk snapped with a crack,
breaking in half. Shards of ice flew in all directions as the tree top collided
with the ice-covered ground. It was 6:00 AM.
In the silence after the tree snapping, I heard a
sound behind me. “Papa, did it snow,” Allen asked. He was an early riser like
all kids. “It sure did, let's go outside and look,” I said. Allen turned
running back into his room to get dressed. I did the same. My wife Maura slept
through the whole thing.
I helped Allen into his winter boots, gloves, and
hat. To put on a jacket, I sang a silly song based on DEVO’s Whip it, “When
a jacket comes along, you must zip it. Let's explore the backyard first.” “OK,
Papa.”
As we walked through the icy winter landscape, I
realized what had happened. First it snowed about two inches and then the
temperature rose above freezing, with the snow turning to sleet. The snow began
to melt, it rained and then the temperature fell below freezing again. Now
about 1/2 inch of ice coated the two inches of snow.
An ice storm!
The ice crunched under our feet as we broke through the
top crust. The trees were surreal. A layer of ice coated every small branch and
leaf. It looked heavy as everything drooped and bent, straining against the
weight of the ice. It was now deadly calm and quiet. All sound except Allen’s
muffled voice, “Papa, look the tree broke!” “Yes, it hit the house on the way
down,” I added. “The ice killed the tree,” Allen summed up the situation. “Let's
go play in the field and build a snowman.”
We crossed the street in front of our house slipping
and sliding. We made snow angels and threw snowballs. We tried to make a snowman,
and we succeeded in making a very small one. It was the wrong kind of snow for
snowmen. Allen giggled with delight for no reason other than pure joy.
The snow began falling again in big flakes spiraling
through the air. Allen whirled around and around with his arms outstretched,
face turned up mouth open and tongue out laughing. He chased snowflakes
catching them on his tongue lapping them up.
“Snowflakes are stars that fall from
heaven onto your tongue,” he exclaimed. I laughed just
watching his silly game. Kids are so fun. Snow brings out joy and the kid in us
all.
Plus, as Allen knew, snow meant fun and adventure
all day. No school for him, even though he loved it and no work for his
parents. There was no such thing as working from home in those days. He would
have our attention all day. Not to mention playing in the snow with all his
neighborhood friends.
Our neighborhood had no power lines as they were all
buried underground. But our neighborhood was an exception, all the
neighborhoods around us had power lines stretched on poles.
“Allen, did you hear that explosion,” I asked. “Explosion!”
“Yes,” listen.
In the distance I heard a bang. It was a muffled
bang. But a bang, nonetheless. It was a particular kind of bang: the sound of
an electric transformer exploding when the power cable running into it is
violently pulled out. I unfortunately knew that sound too well.
He stopped in his tracks, nothing like an explosion
to get a 5-year old's attention. A second explosion. Then in rapid succession 3,
4, 5 loud bangs. Some close and others farther away. The ice was too heavy for
the tree limbs and power cables. They all started to break and fall. Suddenly
there were about 15 minutes of steady explosions all around us.
“Papa is that dynamite,” Allen watched cartoons
where dynamite was a common theme. “No, that is the sound of a blackout,” I
said glancing back at the houses across the street. The porch lights were dark.
Allen and I played in the snow for an hour or more. Several kids ran out and
joined us in the fun.
Allen got his adventure. Almost the entire city of
Charlotte lost power in the ice storm. Charlotte’s mayor Pat McCory’s, house
was dark for two weeks. We lost our power for four days. The junior college where
I taught never lost power, so on the third day we spent the day in a classroom
being warm. On the afternoon of the 4th day our friends the Halls joined us at
Ed's Tavern with their daughter Madison.
Ed’s Tavern had regained power. The server came up
to get our drink order. “Bring beer until the power comes back on at our house,”
I laughed out my order. I was laughing but not joking. The temperature
hovered in the high 20s, and our home was very cold. We had a gas fireplace and
hot water heater, so we could take hot showers and warm the house a little. I
began to understand how the pioneers in the 18th century felt. I understand the
value of a bed warmer now.
We stayed at Ed's Tavern until the kids were
exhausted. As we turned into our neighborhood the first house’s outside porch
light shone like a beacon! “We have power,” Maura yelled. We cheered and
clapped. The Hall’s had to wait one more day in the cold.
We all went to sleep. A warm bed never felt so good!