Following three extra hours of blissful sleep, we awoke Monday to the whirr of chainsaws. After a perfunctory breakfast, Andrew and I did a reccy to assess damage. In addition to the downspout out the sink window, we discovered another downspout ripped off in front.

Luckily, our roof looked fine, but walking down the driveway, we noticed two neighbors sustained damage to their roofs, and another lost one of the trees lining their driveway.

Two 5-gallon watering buckets we’ve been leaving under new maples near the street disappeared. Andrew found one in the neighbor’s ditch and I found the other across the road in the woods.

We began cleanup by gathering debris, primarily from birches and the honey locust, and carrying it to the compost heap. After numerous trips, we decided to prune a broken branch on the honey locust. Determining it was too big for our amazing Fiskar loppers, Andrew climbed a six-foot stepladder and used our Christmas tree saw to drop the branch. Next, He-Man attacked the remains of the redbud with an ax under Steve’s and my careful supervision.
The main bulk of the tree sheared off and blew halfway across the side yard during the hurricane. It was all Andrew and I could do to drag the carcass from its resting place to the compost heap.

I called Steve’s mom on his cell phone to tell her we were all right. An ardent weather watcher (she grew up on a farm), Momma hadn’t seen anything about Ike hitting the Midwest in her North Carolina papers, TV news, or even on the weather channel’s coverage. Steve noticed that the Wall Street Journal mentioned, “more than 30 deaths were blamed on the storm, most in the rain-soaked Midwest.” The rest of the 1/3-page article dealt exclusively with Texas, never giving information about the 5 Midwest states experiencing a State of Emergency.

Thanks to local co-op Union Rural Electric (great job, guys!), our power came on overnight so we watched a TV news conference Monday noon held by Mayor Coleman of Columbus. The mayor spoke eloquently about keeping kids safe, and gave guidelines for keeping food without power. The Chief of Police pointed out that one-third of all traffic lights in Ohio were inoperable and those intersections were to be considered 4-way stops. The CEO of Columbus-area power company AEP noted that 2.6 million homes in the state were without power and assured residents repair was progressing as quickly as possible. The board chairwoman of Columbus City Schools explained that 68% of schools were without power. The mayor ended with a moving plea for all residents to pitch in and help each other.

Andrew took the initiative by cleaning up debris in the five-acre yard of a neighbor who moved to New Jersey, whose house is for sale. I called friends to ask if everyone was safe and whether they needed anything. Other instances of helpfulness came to light: Cub Scout Pack #44 was going door-to-door selling lawn & leaf bags in Fred & Kathy’s Olde Sawmill neighborhood; my 86-year-old Dad was hauling his generator across the street periodically to keep the refrigerator/freezer running for his neighbors of the past fifty years; friend Stef A. offered to bring us any supplies we needed, so we requested sugar to make hummingbird food. Stef described a crazy driver in a new Mercedes with dealer plates who sped through an intersection where the light was out, and people panic-shopping at local groceries. We were happy to be home not dealing with it. Our road was closed anyway, with trees down on power lines in the wooded block east of us.

En route to visit her mother in the hospital, friend Stephanie was making the 45-minute drive into town from her rural West Liberty home when the hurricane hit. Driving along narrow byways, she encountered a swirling flock of what appeared to be hundreds of flying squirrels. They were everywhere and, combined with the wind’s eerie whistling under the Acura she was struggling to keep on the road, they unnerved and scared her. It wasn’t much consolation when Stephanie realized the flying squirrels were just the top half of cornstalks torn from fields on either side. In Stephanie’s family, working for AEP is a three-generation career including her late father-in-law, husband Jay, and son Tony. Jay & Tony were working 16-hour shifts, coming home/eating/sleeping 8 hours, back on 16 hours, round the clock. Stephanie would have to deal with damage to her country home and her mother’s suburban home by herself. As soon as he heard, Andrew called back and offered that he and friend Cole would clean up her mom’s Westerville yard if they had Tuesday off school.

Meanwhile, at Ohio Village, Fred & Kathy’s square dance club was performing at the Third Annual Country Living Fair. It had been windy since they arrived, but around 3:20 p.m. the wind blew the caller’s heavy 3’ x 1’ speakers off a table backed up to a wall and sheltered by shrubs. Fred set the speakers up again, this time on their sides, but the 78 mph wind swept them off again almost instantly. A sturdy chair flew off a table, slamming into a fellow club member. An organizer told the dedicated dancers it was time to head home. Walking out, Fred & Kathy clutched booth canopies that were sailing away, and rescued airborne merchandise. Once home, they realized their power was out as well as that of all three of their children. I offered to help store the contents of Kathy’s basement freezer.

Dublin Library reference goddess Mary was struggling with a pet issue at home (for this author of a non fiction book that required five years of research, reference librarians retain divine status). Without power, Mary’s small fishpond can’t supply enough oxygen for her fish, which are too numerous and large to transfer into tanks. Mary’s husband assured her that the fish have had good long lives and she can raise more from babies once power is restored. To a kind, charismatic woman who keeps a large koi in a big tank on the low library counter near her computer, this is small comfort. I empathize with Mary because seven years later the harrowing weight of responsibility I felt when my beloved Sheppie girl Sheena failed is still painfully fresh.

North of Cincinnati, Megan & Terry were shopping at Tractor Supply when the power went out. Without breaking stride, the employees produced flashlights, calculators, and notebooks to process customers’ purchases. Returning home, Megan & Terry discovered a large, dead tree snapped in half, several big branches down, and their five-acre lot littered with leaves and twigs. Because Terry’s employer GE was without power, the roads were blocked, and his yard was a mess, Tel stayed home Monday. The school system where Megan teaches English also closed. Unlike ours, Megan & Terry’s cell phones were inoperable, presumably due to a downed tower. These two extremely self-sufficient Brits tie with my Dad as first choice companions in an emergency. Megan said she can manage without lights, electricity, TV, e-mail, a landline, and hot water, but once Terry returned to work, being stranded in the country with no means of contacting the rest of the world was a bit eerie and unsettling.

In southern Indiana, my niece Elizabeth began her fourth week as a first year student at Hanover College. Because so many trees fell, buildings were without power, and water could not be pumped without electricity, the college president sent students home Monday for a week. A few hours north in Richmond, Indiana, Elizabeth’s cousin James (our older son), a sophomore at Earlham College, was studying in his dorm when the high winds hit. James cracked his corner room windows to experience the powerful storm. Below on the sidewalks, in quintessential Earlham fashion, students were skateboarding and wave boarding holding up sheets as sails! Since Earlham never lost power, James’ classes went on as scheduled all week. When informed of his brother’s “Hurricane Days” and cousin’s week off, James bemoaned, “That’s cheap!”

Many confessed guilty pleasure in their enjoyment of the impressive winds until they experienced a wake-up call. Kathy’s daughter-in-law Julie held one-year-old Katie and gloried in the power of Mother Nature in their old Worthington neighborhood. When massive branches began falling, Julie realized she & Katie could be killed and quickly went inside. (My husband, possessing a warped sense of humor, imagines a You Tube video like the film intro cartoons of the Pink Panther, dressed as Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music, blithely playing in hurricane winds when suddenly a tree smashes him into a pancake as a voiceover intones, “Hurricanes are no joke! Stay inside!”) Andrew’s 6^th and 7^th grade English teacher Beth let six-year-old Bailey lean into the wind to see how far she could go. When trashcans, patio cushions, and flowerpots blew by, Beth retreated to read Bailey & her sister Little House in the Big Woods by oil lantern.

My sister Sylvia watched the wind whip trees against a sullen sky and slam them close to the picture window where she tried to concentrate at a board meeting. Driving home, Sylvia remembered climbing the tall maple in our front yard as a girl when a storm was coming, much to Mom’s dismay, pretending to be the lookout on the high foresail of a clipper ship at sea like our ancestors from Salisbury and Newburyport. Arriving home to no power at Mom & Dad’s, Sylvia relived three weeks she recently spent on a teaching program in the Congo where lack of electricity is the norm. Living by candlelight for a few days would be no hardship compared to the daily lives of her gracious Congo hosts. Like Sylvia, Stef A. used the word “exhilaration” to describe how she felt during the hurricane. Of Stef’s four dogs, three were rattled: sausage-on-legs Jack Russell Wheezer took refuge in her favorite safe spot, the shower; Newfoundland Annie kept shaking her head because the wind bothered her ears; Norwegian Elkhound mix Sadie was a big baby as usual. Only mixed breed New Dog ran around the back yard with Stef until what her kids call the “big spooky tree” next door crashed into her yard barely missing the cars in the driveway. Stef moved the cars and stayed in until dark when the wind died down, then drove to the nursing home to make sure her mom was safe. Although Stef’s power never went out, the Subway store her husband Garry owns was without power most of the week.

By Monday, Day #2 of Hurricane Ike in Ohio, power was restored to Stephanie, Fred & Kathy, and us. James and Stef A. never lost theirs. Mary and her fish, Megan & Terry, Elizabeth at Hanover, Julie & Katie, Beth & Bailey, Sylvia and Mom & Dad were still without power. At 9:45 p.m., Dublin Schools announced they’d close Tuesday, delighting Andrew.

In Indianapolis, Mom was having an emergency. The Red Sox were about to play the Tampa Bay Rays, but her power was out. Mom is not a recent, fair-weather fan. She waited 81 years for Red Sox Nation to win a Series during her lifetime. Her father listened to every game on the radio from his Salisbury, Massachusetts home. When her brother attended seminary in Boston, he became friends with “Mr. Red Sox,” Foul Ball Pole Honoree Johnny Pesky, whom Mom writes, calls periodically, and takes homemade cookies when Pawtucket plays the Indianapolis Indians. (She may hyperventilate Friday when Johnny’s #6 becomes the 6^th Red Sox number ever retired in recognition of Pesky’s 57 years of dedication to the team on the eve of his 89^th birthday.) Possibly the most serious 85-year-old Red Sox fan on the planet had no power and Boston was at bat. Dad’s solution? Go to the apartment of Sylvia’s friend Kelly who has power. Mom’s response? This game is not televised on regular networks, only on the MLB channel (which Steve & I supply her as a gift). The upshot? Mom lays down the smack, telling Dad to run the TV with his generator. Stunned, my financially conservative, retired engineer Dad moans, “That’ll take two tanks of gas and cost me $10.” Mediator Sylvia notes, “She’s a cheap date, Dad. This may be the best $10 you ever spend. Fire it up.” And so, thanks to the wonders of modern technology, Mom gets her BoSox fix.

Coming in Part Three:

Damage photos from our first drive, and what it’s like to be a High-Voltage Hero during the worst power outage the Midwest has ever experienced.

Postscript:

My family was privileged to meet Johnny Pesky before our first Red Sox game at Fenway. This photo says a lot about our family obsesssions: Earlham, chocolate, and the BoSox. From 2004.

Happy 89th birthday a day late, and congratulations Johnny on having your number retired about an hour from now!

P.P.S.  Here's a YouTube link to the very moving ceremony held on Sunday at Fenway Park for retiring Johnny's number:

 http://www.youtube.com/results?search_query=johnny%20pesky%20number%20retired&uploaded=d