If I were young again, I’d pay attention to that little-known dimension, a taste of endless time. It’s just like water- it runs right though your fingers.– Chris Smithers from his song, “Leave the Light On”
The power has been out a lot recently. It’s not the same at all as hurricane smashed North Carolina or Florida. But I am thinking of those homes, families and communities. I’m so secure and comfortable. It’s not fair. Our outages were planned. Sort of. Everyone knew the old generators on the hill across from the store had to go, and that their replacements would be installed sometime before winter. The exact dates were not revealed until the day the new ones arrived. Dan, the electric manager, told me when the first one would be. He and Ken helped the Juneau crew, staying up ‘til one in the morning a few of the nights. (That news came from Ken’s wife.) It took a lot of fuel management, heavy lifting, hauling, wrenching and unplugging and plugging. (Young Ray kept me posted. He knows everything.)
When the lights are out the phone doesn’t work. There is no cell service in Tenakee, and fewer land lines than there used to be, because the phone company doesn’t come out here much, it costs a lot, and there are satellite options. My cell phone works at the cabin now, thanks to Starlink.
I know, call it Heather’s Razor: Elon Musk is trying to take over the world and I don’t share his vision of what that world will be, but it’s nice to be able to call the kids. The news of hurricane Milton came right to my laptop. It was good to speak to Grandma Joanne in Ocala the day before it hit, and even better the day after, when all was well.
I am new here, and part-time, so depend on EbbTides for the local news, public service announcements and classifieds. When EbbTides said expect some power outages, with details to come, I hoped there wouldn’t be one on Friday night at 6:30. That’s when we had scheduled a Zoom to watch our son get married to Ella in the courthouse in Perth, Australia. (We will see them in January.)
Sue edits and emails the weekly newsletter, but there are lots of special editions, on everything from a Halloween party planning meeting to flu shots at the community center –today! A nurse arrived on the morning floatplane. We told Tom who was working in a friend’s yard, and he joined us. It was nice to stand around in wet raingear and discuss the weather, family, healthcare costs, dogs and deer hunting while we waited for jabs.
But back to the point, you can see how electronic notices for power outages could be problematic, except that in a place where most people stop and chat on the trail, the store, while taking a bath – the news has other ways to spread.
I saw Dan down by the store, and thanked him for all the extra work, and said I hoped the electricity would be on for my son’s wedding. (I know it’s not an emergency, and maybe it can be recorded, but..) He smiled and said they were taking a break from the late nights, so it should be fine (as long as the old generator held out).
Imagine, watching the I dos on a spring morning in Down Under ( where it was Saturday already) from rainy, preparing for winter Tenakee Springs? We are world’s apart, and together. Ella’s boys delivered the rings, and their daughter- our redheaded granddaughter Lila– held her “mum’s” white rose bouquet. Our daughters and their families in Haines and Juneau were on the screen. We cheered and cried.
The next day, when the electricity had been out all afternoon, and despite the best laid plans was still not back on by six, I walked to the bath. Young Ray was on the trail on his bike, so I asked him when the lights would come on. A critical part was missing, he said, but he bet it would turn up or that a replacement could be found.
Robin, who is an artist and a poet, told me the hot spring bubbles up from center-earth and the mineral water we bathe in is 4,000 years old. I hope that’s true, and I hope Ray is right. The changing room was dark, it had been dark and raining all day, but the skylight over the bath allowed the gray light in. Rachel was there too. (The women’s evening hours are 6-10pm. The men have 2-6pm.) We turned our backs to each other and rinsed and soaped, dipping scoops in the tub and pouring steamy water on our heads until we were squeaky clean and only then stepped down into the concrete tub. It was wonderful. Hot. Very. Therapeutic. Relaxing. Kind of holy, like a steamy grotto. The waves on the beach underneath us echoed off the dripping concrete walls.
Of course, the lights came on just as we finished dressing in the dark. Rachel walked down the West Tenakee Avenue trail and I turned toward the East Tenakee Avenue trail, sidestepping mud puddles, feeling happy.
Happy. Happy for the streetlights, the yellow glow in the windows, for being connected both near and far. Singing. Singing (softly) in the rain.
(Leave the light on, I’ll be home soon…)
