No, that is not what happened last night, but it’s close. The 1967 blizzard that shut down Chicago left a trail of downed power lines in Central Illinois that were caused partly by the weight of the sleet that attached itself to them and created pounds of ice on those wires, and partly by a fierce, blowing wind with nothing to stop in on the cornfields or the highways, except for maybe a few dozen windbreaks of hedge apple trees that had been planted back in the 1930s and 1940s to reduce wind speeds and soil loss.
I think I can say that the storm that hit the Midwest last night was the same in nature, starting with globs of slush and rain mixed together and a strong wind, and ending with about 3 inches of snow, depending on where you were. It was 33F at 2PM, with a humidity level of 84%. Yes, I was out shoveling that stuff, and by 2:45PM it had turned into blowing snow. Then it seemed to quit… until it started up again a little after 5PM, with snow and a humidity level of 95%.
I’ve been keeping track of that humidity oddity for a while now. Low humidity used to be common in the winter. When was the last time you were zapped by a doorknob? For me, it was sometime in 2002 or 2003. This is a significant difference, because it may account for the slop and slush that accompanied this storm
I kept going out and shoveling the steps clear and thought it was over because the snow had arrived and was not heavy at all. And I was working on something very late, 1AM, in fact, so that I could keep track of the volume on my front steps, and bing! the power went out. It was out for 10 minutes. Then it returned, but at 1:20AM, it went out again, so I called the electric company’s reporting number, filed the outage report, and at 1:35AM, power returned – at a lower level than normal. Almost like someone had squeezed a water hose. Then again at 1:40AM, everything blinked out and returned and the clock on the microwave was nearly invisible. The furnace would not start. I reported that outage, and by 2:43AM, the indoor temperature had begun to fall. Not a good sign, and not enough voltage to run the furnace or the microwave. I had to start the stovetop burners with matches, because the striker was not getting enough current.
Long story short, the entire county and a couple others lost power, some of it in the midst of court proceedings, which meant that hearings were postponed. The slush piled up and froze, hung on power lines, pasted itself to the windward sides of houses, glued vehicle doors shut, and required that people call in the outages because no one had heat or electricity, which is distributed by the blower motor in the furnace. Some newer models of gas stoves have gas valves that won’t open if the power goes out, which means you can’t light the burner to heat water or make coffee or fix food. I had also lost internet service, which took some time to fix.
Early the next morning, I checked the outage reports: 364,000 outage reports, 180,000 in my area alone. My neighbors were out in their cars, trying to keep warm. I bundled up, wondered if we’d get electricity back and then saw the Com Ed truck going north with a gigantic ladder and whatever else they were dragging, and hoped it meant “power soon”, because my indoor temp was down to 60F. Not life threatening, but chilly. Then at 4PM, all the power was shut off. No weak, dim light from the LED strip over the counter. No light in the fridge, no weak ‘click’ on the stovetop. Nothing. I figured those linemen had found the problem and were working on it, and my neighbors wouldn’t have to spend the night in their cars. I finally got bored and went to my trundle bed under 7 blankets, but woke at 11:40 because the lights had finally come on and the furnace was running. I checked my phone for some notice from the electric company: power was fully restored at 8PM, while I was sleeping, like a putz.
Those guys worked four hours straight in the dark, in the wind and cold, to get the power back for us, and I will never know who they were or how long their day was, but they and other emergency people are the only things that stand between us and real disaster. Whoever they are, they have my eternal thanks for getting us back up and running so quickly, in the worst possible weather.
The same goes to anyone else who has had to make those calls in wretched cold with power lines down, spitting sparks at each other. I don’t take any of you for granted – EVER.
