The Oklahoma Ice Storm of 2010: A Survivor's Tale

2:07 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
Power goes out due to ice storm. No internet. Annoyed. I want to check my Facebook. Yesterday it was 65 degrees. Would change my status to “Oklahoma is dumb” if I could. Regardless, morale is high.

4:00 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
Decide to play piano by candlelight. Feeling bored, but the piano is cheerful. House is still warm, but getting darker. Lights should come back on soon. Morale high.

4:30 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
Mom home from work early – no electricity at the bank. Dad builds a fire in the fireplace, Mom is hungry. Cold turkey sandwiches for dinner. The people across the street have power. I wonder what’s on TV. Morale waning.

5:30 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
Candles are gathered. The house is cold. Full on nighttime now. My card table has been pulled in from the garage and set up in front of the fire. Skip-bo has been unearthed. We’re making Dad play. He does not seem to be enjoying it. Morale: better, except for Dad.

6:45 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
Every time Dad pokes the fire, I say, “Poke it, sir! Poke it!” – a line from Patrick Stewart’s A Christmas Carol. It gets funnier every time. Morale high.

7:30 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
All Snuggies and small blankets pulled into the living room and put to good use. More firewood brought inside. I eat a cookie with sprinkles. Dad refuses to play more Skip-bo. We play Trivial Pursuit instead.

10:00 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
Saw four long flashes of blue-green light in the sky. Dad said it was a power station. I said it was aliens. I think I’m right. I hope they’re nice aliens. With generators.

10:30 pm, Thursday, January 28, 2010
Dad wins Trivial Pursuit, senses uneasiness in the ranks. Dad: “You guys get mad when you can’t win. You liked me just fine in the last game.” Mom: “. . . No we didn’t!” Morale: mixed.

1:30 am, Friday, January 29, 2010
Time for bed. Wash my face by flashlight. Water still warm – grateful for that. On my bed: two blankets, four quilts, two comforters (one down), one down throw. I can’t move, but I’m warm. Except for my face. Imaginary status update: Oklahoma is dumber than previously indicated. Thomas Edison never intended for me to be this cold. Morale: low.

3:00 am, Friday, January 29, 2010
Face still cold.

8:00 am, Friday, January 29, 2010
Grey light coming through my window. Briefly consider getting out of bed, then consider cold face and think the better of it.

9:00 am, Friday, January 29, 2010
Assured that there is still hot water in the tank so I take a shower. I was lied to. Can feel hypothermia setting in. Bear Grylls said the human body loses heat twenty-five times faster in water than in air. I believe him. Still nice to be clean though. Morale: medium-ish.



9:30 am, Friday, January 29, 2010
Not even Wal-Mart is open. The apocalypse is upon us.

11:00 am, Friday, January 29, 2010
We heat water in a cake pan over the fireplace, one mug-full at a time. Find myself humming “Smoke on the Water.” Swiss Miss and ash mix surprisingly well. It’s nice to hold a warm mug.

12:00 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
After a game of Skip-bo that Dad refuses to play, we gather fixins for lunch. A campfire roasting stick is found and I toast hotdogs in the fireplace to perfection.

2:07 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
Power’s been out for a full day now. Seems like longer. Reflect for a moment that this sort of thing never happened in Philadelphia. This sort of think never happened in Ohio or Salt Lake City or anywhere else I’ve lived either, for that matter. Wonder what real people are doing. Dad gets more firewood. Morale: low.



4:45 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
Reading The Watchmen by firelight. Things have taken an unfortunate turn for poor Rorschach.

5:15 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
Darkness falling again. Candles relit. Briefly try to read a book. Mom briefly tries to break my booklight. Dad adds yet another log to the fire. I say, “Poke it, sir! Poke it!” It’s still funny. After considering UNO, we play Skip-bo.

5:45 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
Now the cake pan holds baked beans. Mom likes being Oklahoman. I roast brats, again to perfection. We’re real pioneers now. Mom wishes for coffee. I tell her she should wish for chickaree instead. She agrees.

6:30 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
Skip-bo.

7:20 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
Skip-bo.

8:00 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
Trivial Pursuit. Question: What animals are believed to have killed a million people in Asia over the last four centuries? Mom: Werewolves!

10:30 pm, Friday, January 29, 2010
I beat my parents at Trivial Pursuit for the first time in my long life. Dad complains that he doesn’t know about Ricky Martin or Beverly Hills 90210 and that they shouldn’t be Trivial Pursuit subject matter. In a show of gracious superiority, I blow a raspberry and smile smugly. Morale: high. For some of us.

1:00 am, Saturday, January 30, 2010
Waiting for the embers to die before going to bed. I only thought the house was cold before. I was clearly mistaken. I begin to think I’ll never know warmth again. No warm water to wash my face tonight. I crack an icicle off my nose. Can’t feel fingers. Two blankets, four quilts, two comforters (one down), and one down throw will not be enough tonight. Hell is neither fire nor brimstone. Hell is a frozen wasteland, frostbite, and sleepless black night. Morale: gone.

9:00 am, Saturday, January 30, 2010
No shower this morning. Cleaned with ice water at the sink. Another day. What I wouldn’t give for a battery-powered hair dryer.



10:30 am, Saturday, January 30, 2010
It becomes clear that the refrigerator has lost every last bit of cold air that it ever had. Colder in the kitchen than in the freezer. How this can be is a mystery. Maybe I should hole up in the fridge for a bit to warm up. All the food is either outside or in the trash now.

11:45 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
We venture out into the wild unknown that is an ice-encrusted Duncan, Oklahoma. No traffic lights. Drivers ignoring stop signs, going through intersections when it’s not their turn. Mom and Dad incensed by such reckless behavior. After two and a half years in Philly, it doesn’t seem so bad to me. Vehicles swarm the Chevron station like big , metal, gasoline-eating locusts with snow-chained tires for legs. Wal-Mart is open again. We get only non-refrigerator essentials: bread, Reese’s cups, granola bars, M&Ms, applesauce, Butterfingers, another kind of granola bars, Walker’s shortbread cookies, chips, tiny Snickers bars, bananas, Oreos, large hoagie sandwich, Baby Ruths, chicken from the deli. Tried to get ingredients for s’mores. No marshmallows in the store. Tried to buy more candles. Shelves bare. Back at the house we have the deli chicken for lunch. I realize what seems strange about the taste – the subtle hint of woodsmoke is missing.

1:30 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
We decide to cordon off the end of the large open area that is the kitchen, breakfast nook (of sorts), and living room to keep the fireplace heat from escaping too far. A hook is fashioned and a rope is looped through it and two cold heating vents at the ceiling. We clothespin plastic drop cloths to it like sheets to a clothesline. The only way in or out is to crawl through a gap at the floor near the middle of our plastic wall. A bit like a cat flap. Not remotely dignified. Mom’s not very careful when she does it.



2:30 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
A couple of guys from the church drop by to see if we have power. They seem very cheerful, presumably because they do have power. I forgive them their cheerfulness since they have brought with them a small generator for us to borrow. We turn on a lamp. It’s like the sun breaking through the clouds on the first morning. I hum a little DC Talk: I want to be in the light/ as you are in the light.

4:20 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
Power shudders through the wires and lights and furnace come on. We stay very still and try not to let the electricity know that we noticed. Ten glorious minutes before Mom jinxes it by saying we can let the fire die now. Power gone again. We continue our Skip-bo game in silence.

4:45 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
Dad goes out to the church to see if power has been restored there yet. It hasn’t. No church in the morning.

5:30 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
We have some of the large hoagie sandwich and chips for dinner in front of the fireplace and force Dad to play a game of Skip-bo that he did not agree to and complains about. It’s good for him, though he would probably argue that it isn’t. Mom and Dad go outside to refill the generator’s gas tank with somewhat messy and grumpy results. Morale: inside next to the fire – high; outside, beside the generator – not so high.

6:00 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
We hear that the President has declared this part of Oklahoma to be in a state of emergency. I could have told him that. I begin to wonder if I’ve somehow wandered into some forsaken corner of the Twilight Zone and soon I’ll realize that I’m trapped in a giant dollhouse town and we all suffer at the whim of a huge alien child. Remember, Dad said it was a power station but I said it was aliens.

7:30pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010
We unplug the lamp and plug in the TV to watch Ghost Town. Ricky Gervais dressed up like a dentist has never been such a welcome sight. Feeling festive so I have another cookie with sprinkles. Morale: high.

10:00 pm, Saturday, January 30, 2010 – 12:30pm, Sunday, January 31, 2010
More Trivial Pursuit after Mom badgers Dad into staying up past his bedtime since there’s no church in the morning. Another question about Hanoi. Mom, pleased, uses her “I’m so Hanoi-ed” joke again. Dad pokes the fire. I say, “Poke it, sir! Poke it!” It’s difficult to calm down after such hilarity, but we manage eventually and go to bed. Mom and Dad sleep downstairs next to the fire. With grim determination I burrow under my two blankets, four quilts, two comforters (one down), and one down throw. Stupid ice.

8:45 am, , Sunday, January 31, 2010
Mom tells me to get out of bed. My face feels the air and I refuse.

11:30 am, Sunday, January 31, 2010
Lunch: leftover hoagie, leftover deli chicken, leftover baked beans. I finish off with a cookie with sprinkles and wonder if I should call it a leftover just to keep things simple.



12:30 pm, Sunday, January 31, 2010
Dad comes back from checking the church again with tales of electricity and warm water. I bully him into taking me out there so I can finally take a shower. The water is not anything like warm, but it is a few degrees better than we have at the house. I’m beginning to be able to distinguish between subtle levels of coldness. And I think I am becoming desensitized to lesser cold. Days ago the coldness of my church shower would have sent me scurrying. Today I take the time to shave my legs. I dry my hair with my hair dryer. Another small victory. Morale: inching higher.

5:30 pm, Sunday, January 31, 2010
The Golden Corral still isn’t open so we go to Kentucky Fried Chicken for dinner. Dad grumbles noncommittally something about too much chicken. Good biscuits. I sit in a decidedly chilly draft, but don’t get goosebumps or feel the need to put my coat back on. More evidence that my nerves’ cold receptors are on the fritz.

8:00 pm, Sunday, January 31, 2010
I make my parents watch the second part of a three part version of “Emma” on PBS. Dad follows it well enough, but Mom is playing a game on her phone and keeps asking who Frank is, whether or not the woman on the screen is Emma or “the friend,” and where Mr. Knightly (who she does not recognize) has gotten to.

10:00 pm, Sunday, January 31, 2010
The news is full of footage of broken tree limbs, crushed cars, and fallen power lines. A power company spokesperson says people may be without power until Friday. The weatherman says there’s a Freezing Fog Advisory on through tomorrow. I’m having trouble envisioning it. It sounds stupid so I’m sure it happens here regularly. I get depressed and change the channel to “Are You Being Served?” Young Mr. Grace mistakenly buys his own coat from Mr. Lucas and Mrs. Slocomb won’t eat the cheese buns. Much better. Morale: desperate, then determinedly oblivious.

11:30 pm, Sunday, January 31, 2010
“The Vicar of Dibley” comes on – a good way to end the day, electricity or no.

12:15 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
The furnace rumbles to life and light bulbs begin to glow. “Vicar of Dibley” still on. Probably a sign from God. Richard Armitage’s face was on the screen when the power comes back. That’s probably a sign, too.

12:25 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Power off.

12:26 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Power on.

12:31am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Off. Inconveniently, I had chosen 12:30 for a potty break and had neglected to take a flashlight with me.

12:33 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
On.

12:54 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Flicker.

1:15 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Flicker and a boom in the distance. Ominous.

1:30 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Power still on. Hot water for face washing. I burn my fingers twice and dance a little happy dance each time. Feeling cautiously hopeful, but still suspicious. The two blankets, four quilts, two comforters (one down), and one down throw stay where they are. Morale: pretty decent.

Sometime between 1:30 am and 4:30 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Off.

7:15 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Dad wakes me up to make sure I know the power is off again. Understandably, I grumble a bit. Possibly more than a bit. The generator is off and there’s no fire in the grate. I determine to stay under my covers until the electricity comes back. Jerkface Electricity. Morale: low.



9:00 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
I wake up from a dream in which I jump out of the shower and run sans clothes through an apparently Bavarian town looking for my towel. Not so concerned about running around in my birthday suit, I seem mostly annoyed about being cold. I run into a hotel to find my towel and clothes in an elevator. There’s also a very placid horse in the elevator. My standoff with the electricity is not producing the desired results. I get up, but have no real desire to take a shower at this point. Don’t’ bother with the generator or a fire, either. Just doesn’t seem worth it. Either the will to live or the will to stay warm is leaving me and I feel wearied by it. Morale: whatever, man.

11:00 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Dad comes back for lunch, shovels a bucket full of ash out of the fireplace.

11:10 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
I decide to suffer through a shower, hopeful that last night’s respite warmed the water heater enough to keep my shower warmish. Not all the way hot, but good enough.

11:15 am, Monday, February 01, 2010
Power comes back on again. Too jaded now to believe it will last.

12:27 pm, Monday, February 01, 2010
Have a Braum’s milkshake with my lunch. Standing around in a non-fireplace room in a t-shirt, holding a cold cup and I’m not even cold. Still determined to move somewhere warm next. Milkshake is good.


2:00 pm, Monday, February 01, 2010
Dad puts some things back in the refrigerator. I help, though I doubt the wisdom of it. Electricity and I have a rocky relationship right now.

3:52 pm, Monday, February 01, 2010
Flicker.

4:15 pm, Monday, February 01, 2010
Five hours of nearly continuous power. I’m willing to give Electricity the tentative benefit of the doubt and believe he’s trying to be good, but I’m not taking the covers off my bed. Feeling rather ill-treated. Also I think I may have lost the ability to distinguish the smell of woodsmoke from the smell of regular air. And I’m pretty sure I have a substantial coating of ash all through my insides. I wonder how much character I’ve built over the last five days and whether or not the ability to grimly endure can go on my resume somewhere. Morale: holding steady.