Hill-Topics
I'm hand-writing this article on a sheet of legal-sized typing paper, and the electricity, in Hillsboro at least, has been out for about a half hour or so. My computer blinked out, took one more gulp of electrons as if it were going to come right back on, then blinked out for good, just after 10 a.m.
This is wonderful, I thought. I'm free from digital bondage!
The power was off and so, too, was the computer screen.
But then I thought, what if it's a terrorist attack? What if we're without power indefinitely? What if it's just my office here at 105 Grand Avenue? Did we forget to pay the utility bill?
I picked up the phone and there was a dial tone. (Can somebody please explain that one to me?) I called to elementary school. No power there, either, Pam said. "We heard it was out in Tampa, too," she added.
It's remarkable how quiet things become without electricity; and the things we think about. All of the stories and all of the photographs for this issue of the Star-Journal are stored digitally, and there would be no way to retrieve them. The furnace runs on gas, but takes electricity to operate. Is it getting chilly? A long time ago, newspapers were written by hand, typeset by hand, and printed by hand and foot. The press was operated with a treadle.
It could be done that way again, I supposed. But I don't know how to sling type, although I once had a boss from the old-school show me how fast he could put backward letters all in a row. As far as a treadle press, I think there's one in Peabody, at a museum, but I wouldn't know how to use it.
The power will be back on any minute now, anyway. It's only been about an hour or so. At least that's what the clock on my cell phone tells me. I tried to call the office in Marion on my cell. The phone rang, but nobody answered. Hum. Better save the battery in this phone, I thought. Who knows how long it will last without a re-charge. Who knows why they work, or how?
Who knows?
Suddenly I felt vulnerable. Not frightened, exactly, but somewhat so. Cars were still going up and down the street. I suppose I could go out and turn on my car radio; find out how widespread the outage is. What if there's just static? What would that mean?
Who knows?
As I scrawl these words, I'm fairly certain they will be printed in the next issue of the Star-Journal. If you're reading this, of course they have been. But these few moments "off the grid" reminds me that if in the year 2007 we can become this vulnerable, this suddenly, then who knows?
Some say the "Spirit of this Age" as written about in the Bible, refers to the digital world that dominates our daily lives; computers and the Internet, television and radio, iPods and cell phones. The constant signals that we can't see, but are moving around us (and through us, I suppose), bouncing up and down off of satellites, between relay towers, all the time, all around the globe.
There are otherwise sane individuals who've stockpiled food, water, wood, and shotgun shells for such as time as this could be, if the power doesn't come back on. Do I know any of those people? Do I know them well enough that they would share what they have with me and my family?
If this is it, where would we go?
Our three adult children are spread out at colleges from Lincoln, to McPherson, to El Dorado. How would we get together with them? Should I call them now, while the phones still work? Where would they go?
Who knows?
In the silence of a digitally-dead, electrically powerless civilization, what would keep us from following our base instincts, at the bottom of the hierarchy of needs? How low could we go?
The cold is beginning to creep into the office now. A couple of hours more and this could be a real news event. (See how my thought-process goes?) I wonder how they're going to handle the transactions at the grocery stores? Will they lock the doors? Who could blame them if they did decide to go home and take care of their own? If they stayed open, would they ration the food in there?
Silly thoughts, I know. And if you're reading this, they must read as if someone extremely paranoid had written them down. Especially if you're currently logged-on to www.starj.com. It was just a glitch, Grant, for crying out loud! What came over you? What were you thinking?
Well, who knows?
In the silence, I heard a bird chirping outside my window. "Consider the birds of the air
Yes, but
Believe it or not, the power just came back on this instant. I am not making this up. It startled me so much, I jumped in my chair. The computer monitor made that Pop! Hum! sound, you know? The lights came on. We'll have a paper, after all.
Now, the question is, should I type into the computer the words I've written here? Should this be my Hill-Topics article for this week? It's not exactly funny, and people say they enjoy it when I write about funny things that happen to me. Maybe people are laughing hilariously at this, anyway.
What has been the significance of this past hour? What does it say about our collective vulnerability? What can it teach us about God's faithfulness? Was there a purpose for this time off the grid? Or am I being superstitious to think there might have been?
All I know is, this story began in the dark and now, by God's grace, it's light again.
— GRANT OVERSTAKE
