Icepocalypse

When friends help friends, that is lovely. And expected. This is what being a friend is about, isn’t it?

 When strangers or distant acquaintances help, something else is going on. And that something else is the kindness, compassion, and generosity we humans are capable of.

 Welcome to this small icepocalypse story.

 Here in the Willamette Valley of Oregon we experienced severe back-to-back ice storms. Trees cracked, uprooted, and toppled. Hundreds of them. Many hundreds of them. Out where I live, where powerlines, phone lines, and cable lines are above ground and sixty-foot firs line the roads, it was a mess. Everyone lost power. Across my quarter-mile access road, seven trees, big ones, fell. The road itself was an impenetrable sheet of three-inch-thick ice

 My rural neighborhood has an active Facebook page. For those who had generators going or (in my case) had some power from solar battery storage, social media kept us in touch. I posted a call asking to borrow a chainsaw. (Mine was too puny to handle the size of the downed trees, not to mention that it was electric.) I also posted a picture of my access road on my own FB page. Here’s what happened:

 Within thirty minutes of my FB posting, a woman I worked with briefly twenty years ago—she edited two essay collections that included my work—and had had almost no contact with ever since, responded. Her husband and son, both with four-wheel drive trucks, both with big chainsaws, could come out to my place tomorrow. What time, she asked. I responded immediately. As we were working out details, I learned that her family, also without power, lived thirty-five miles away. Her husband and son would be driving over icy, uncleared roads to get to me. Thirty-five miles.

 Maybe an hour later, I got a response from the post on the neighborhood page. A man I’d never met who lived less than a quarter mile away (newish to neighborhood) could come over right now with a chainsaw to help. Which he did. With a 30” Stihl, full chaps, safety goggles. Between him, my son and me—but mostly him because he had the right equipment—we cleared the road in two hours.

Meanwhile, as we were down close to the house out of sight of the road, ANOTHER neighbor came by, unannounced, with chainsaw at the ready. 

On the off-chance there is a god, and she follows me on social media, I’m sending this out to her: Make more humans like Josh Annett. Shine a loving light on Josh Annett and his family. And while you are at it, lay some godly goodness on Colleen Sell and her family. And don’t forget Des.

 I felt compelled to write this today after yesterday’s news of the New Hampshire primary. THERE ARE GOOD, KIND, WONDERFUL PEOPLE living their lives, helping others live their lives. Let us never forget that. Let us BE those people.

 The peacock is named Petey. He deserved a name after finding us during the ice storm and taking up residence in the back of the garage. He is fine eating bugs and worms and voles. But he also gets leftover popcorn and expired Panko breadcrumbs. He’s a beauty. And he doesn’t make a noise like a child being strangled. He honks.