Disconnected

It's good to have a working land-line again. It's great to have Internet access once more. Best of all, I now have my TiVo back.

I've been without FIOS service from Verizon since last Monday's thunder and wind storm, which, I mention in passing, was the scariest storm I've seen in Richmond since Hazel back in 1954. (I was 12, schools were closed because of the hurricane, and I watched from our family's front window as lawn chairs and trash cans sailed down the block, 20 feet in the air, at terrifying speed.)

In last Monday afternoon's short but surprisingly powerful storm, the lightning was continuous. The winds were relentless. For 20 long minutes. Then, the sun came out again. The tree you see in the picture above was felled by the wind. It blocked the street I live on for five days before the city got around to removing it.

A cheery Verizon technician restored my TV, Internet and phone service yesterday morning -- on the sixth day after the storm.

At least I didn't have to break out the flashlights and the kerosene lamps last week. I lost power for only about 10 minutes . (There must be something karmic and essentially fair about that. I was in the dark for 10 days after Hurricane Isabel. This time, I was lucky.)

The thing is, when we lose the basics, meaning electricity or connectedness to the world, so much changes. We have to figure out other ways of doing things, old means by which to meet our basic needs as well as our less pressing wants and wishes.

So I spent a lot of time reading. Or outdoors, cleaning up and doing yard upkeep.

And indoors, watching my tiny, portable, wide-screen, color, digital, backup TV, which I hastily purchased after the last big storm. The screen is about the size of a pocket pack of Kleenex tissues, but it'll do in a pinch. Or even for six days.

Not having a phone was merely an inconvenience; I used my cell phone. Not having Internet access meant I had to look up stuff I wanted to know in real books. I missed email.

But not having TiVo grievously disrupted my schedule. I had to watch programs I like when they aired instead of when I wanted to. I had to watch commercials. I had to watch TV on the local and network timetables, not mine.

I also had free time to just think. That was a good thing.

One of the things I thought about was infrastructure, how much I depend on it, and how fragile it is.

I thought back to the day right after Isabel, the costliest and deadliest storm of the 2003 season. Almost nobody had power.

On the morning after Isabel, I called my mother and asked how she was doing. She was then 89 and living alone in the house she and my father had bought in 1956. I asked her if she needed anything. She told me a cup of coffee would be nice. After searching far wider and longer than I thought I'd have to, I found a place that was open, had power, and was selling hot coffee.

My mom was happy to see that coffee, but she told me she wasn't otherwise bothered so much by the lack of power.

"I was a teenager before we ever had electricity," she told me. "Back in those days, we got up when it was light and we went to bed when it was dark.

"So don't worry about me. I'll do just fine."

What she said made me rethink the problem.

I did that again this past week.