After 114 hours of showerless, powerless darkness, the sweet glow of incandescent light once again fills the hallowed halls of my home. I like to think of myself as a survivalist. Hunting for food, warming beside a crackling fire and reading by the soft illumination of a candle has a great deal of therapeutic appeal. However, after nearly six days of "camping out," it's time to go home.
A long bath, a hot cup of coffee and being able to find a matching pair of socks has its own allure.
The wife and children are now en route from their southern refuge to once again bring familial chaos to the domicile. It's been hauntingly quiet without them.
Grandma and grandpa warmed next to a wood-burning stove, cooked above real flames, ran to the outhouse when nature called and kept milk from spoiling by sticking it down in the cool bottom of a cistern. We're past that now, but every now and then Mother Nature likes to remind us who's boss.
The Bible says that man has been around for at least 6,000 years – science claims it's much longer – and only for the last 50 or so have we enjoyed the utter convenience of electricity. Why did we wait so long?
Thank you Mr. Franklin, Mr. Edison and all those who had a hand in conceiving and forwarding the idea that living in the dark is for the birds.
