Snowmageddon

 For those of you living under a rock, Texas went all to frozen-over hell this week.

Those of you who were not rockbound, however, might be surprised to hear that the winter "event" actually started a week ago Thursday. ICE was coming. Parents were picking up kids early from our school, and we cancelled all after school activities. Friday’s school was done over Google Meet with everyone in their homes. And we all were preparing for snow on Monday. Snow! In San Antonio! How exciting!

But ohhhhh, friends . . . we had no idea.

Understand, smug northern folk, that Texas – especially southern Texas where I live -- is simply not equipped for extended winter weather. Snow and ice come quite rarely and melt quickly. Few people own even a snow shovel. Cities certainly don’t have materials and equipment on hand to de-ice roads. Houses are built for staying COOL in hot summer weather, not for staying warm in the winter.

So, when the biggest winter storm that my native Texas friends have ever seen in their lives showed up and put us in below freezing temperatures for days, people kind of freaked out. And justifiably so.

But pile on top of this expected chaos the unexpected near-collapse of our power system. It wasn’t until Sunday night that I heard any notification of the impending “rolling outages” that would be coming our way before the sun came up and of the need to conserve energy. Sunday night!! And remember: the storm actually started Thursday. I have no idea who or what in our state is exactly responsible for the insanity that occurred when millions of Texans – MILLIONS, people! – were suddenly without power or water for days in freezing temperatures with roads too icy to drive to get anywhere more secure. But I have a very hard time believing it couldn’t have been prevented. If they had just told us to start conserving energy on, say, Friday . . .

I’ve never experienced anything quite like this week in frigid San Antonio. All day Monday, we had three-minute spurts of power about once every thirty minutes to an hour. When we heard the furnace kick in, all three of us would JUMP to our laptops, trying to click in to the internet and get something done before we were down again. I eventually went to the car to try to charge my phone so we would maintain some connection with the outside world. No way to heat up food. Roads were too icy to go anywhere, and nothing was open anyway. We snacked on chips, cereal, granola bars, and chocolate chips from the cabinet, afraid to open the fridge and let out any cool air when we had no idea how long it would need to last in there.

No power at all during the evening. Another three-minute blast at bedtime – just enough to tease us with the prospect of warmth as we slept – and then a restless but silent night with the three of us and the dog all in one bed under as many covers as we could find.

We were among the lucky ones. I woke up on Tuesday to my clock flashing “3:23”, so we had had heat for about three and a half hours . . . and our power never went off again. But our house was one of the very few we knew with power and water. All day, I was texting friends and work colleagues, checking on their well-being, feeling guilty that I was so well off and hopeless because I couldn’t get to them to help them even if there were a way I could help. And we sat in chilly, silent, darkness all day, too, trying to conserve energy for the sake of everyone else. The Laura Ingalls Wilder references flowed freely through my digital community . . .

Not until yesterday -- Thursday! with the tail end of the storm floating through, dropping big, beautiful snowflakes on us all day long. -- did I finally wake to cheering texts from friends about their power being back on. And this morning (Friday) were the huzzahs about water dripping from faucets -- although that water still needs to be boiled before we can drink it.

Y’all. It's hard to explain how exhausted we are from sitting in a house doing next to nothing for four days. As one friend remarked on Facebook, “I have decided I’m not as tough as I think I am.”

And I’m reminded of people around the world who never have fresh water . . . who rarely have consistent power . . . whose supply of nutritious food is always unreliable . . . 

May we never take this stuff for granted, friends.