Ice Storm

Tree limbs cracked like rifle shots. Crashing branches took out roofs, houses, cars, other trees, bird and squirrel nests and of course, power lines.

By 1:30 PM I was starving and ready for a bowl of cabbage soup. The main road, between Glens Falls and Saratoga was clear, but heavy with traffic diverted from the Northway were trees heavy with ice splintered and fell across the interstate bringing the southbound traffic to a stand still. Dad and I had ventured out into the crystallized landscape to buy gas for the generator. We hooked it up after the power went out mid-morning when the half inch coating of ice began to bring down tree limbs and power lines. We had lights, the furnace, refrigerator and water pump. The only ting we couldn’t run was the stove and range, but heck, when you got a microwave…

I was ten in 1963 when upstate New York fell into a deep freeze that gripped many communities for days if not weeks. Without power we relocated our sleeping quarters to the living room where the fireplace became the focal point of family life much like in the days when French and English settlers were still convincing the Indians to take sides with unknown foreign nations.

We stoked the fire with wood gathered from the surrounding woods or donated from the Skidmore College’s camp located about a half mile down the road. Borrowing a neighbor’s toboggan, Mike, Robin and I dragged the loaded sled over a road still covered with snow and ice. We melted snow for water so we could cook, drink and flush the toilet. To this day the bathroom floor in my parent’s house remains cold regardless of the time of year—haunted by the cold that seeped into the house during those days without power.

We survived playing games; scrabble, monopoly and domino brought the family together at the card table where candles provided a dim light. We told stories, shared experiences of the day or listened to Mom read to us. We didn’t miss TV, as we did not have one. And we went to bed safely, securely each night wondering when the power would come back on. I never remembered being cold except when I went to the bathroom.

Other families in the neighborhood were not so lucky. One evening while Mom and Dad were out shopping, a red glow lit the sky to the north. Robin and I knelt on the couch and gazed out the picture window at the eerie light shimmering on the night sky, knowing it was a fire, but not knowing what was burning. Mike left the house to investigate and came back to report that the Helenek’s house was on fire.

Mom told me to write about these experience, but I never did.