“Life sucks. My boss hates me. I need a new job. I wonder what Sheila posted in Facebook today. I’m getting fat. My fiancé Kevin is shipping off to Iraq today, I hope he makes it back. My mom just doesn’t understand me. I’m running away. God, could this traffic move any slower? I want those new Nikes. Would someone shut that dog up? I’m dying from AIDS. My kids just don’t listen to me. I wonder if she’ll think I’m creepy if I ask her out.”
I imagine that those were just some of the infinite number of thoughts going through the minds of people all across the North-eastern parts of the United States and Ontario around 4:09pm, on Thursday, August 13, 2003, approximately one minute before one of the biggest blackouts in history occurred. On that day, 50 million people became unwilling participants in what I would describe as a return to our humanity (Miller).
This historical blackout, caused by a tree branch touching a power line in Ohio plunged 50 million people into complete darkness, and in many ways left us “alone with each other”. No one knows for sure what the balance of blame was when considering whether this blackout was the cause of human error or equipment failure. Analysts surmise that the natural marriage of summer heat and the widespread use of air conditioning (along with other electronics) pushed the power grid to its limits, and the initial spark caused by a tree branch on sagging electrical lines in Ohio was merely the catalyst for destruction (Walsh).
Various modes of communication, emergency services, and transportation were all brought to a screeching halt. If it needed power, it either didn’t work, or was not going to last long. Our system, our infrastructure, our way of “being” just disappeared. Subways grinded to a halt, carrying tired and restless souls on the way back home from work, seeking only the comfort of their living room couches and re-runs of Friends. Traffic lights went dark and instead signaled the commencement of utter and complete chaos on roads and intersections. The familiar hum of computers fell silent, and the glow of our monitors no longer illuminated the lonely solitude of our bedrooms.
What we took for granted when it came to being able to navigate through our daily lives fell victim to the darkness and innocence that our ancestors knew well. We were in trouble. We were in deep. This was “the big one”, and no one knew for sure how long it would last.
As the hours came and went, millions began to realize that the absence of power, and all the technology that effected, could be something we needed to get used to for longer than we were comfortable with. The relief of opening the doors to our blissfully climate controlled apartments and homes would not be something many of us would experience this day, and the things we deemed “routine” in our daily lives would no longer be waiting for us. Our modern empires were crippled, and we would have to learn how to deal with this event without many of the creature comforts now taken for granted as status quo.
Houston, we have a problem.
The chaos and confusion following the blackout was expected. Supplies we running out all over town and panic was starting to tighten it’s grip on the collective psyche of the millions affected. However, something beautiful beginning to happen; we found ourselves forced into being “alone together”.
It seemed as if “the Universe” had it’s fill of the chaos, the chatter, and the meaningless and worry-filled daily grind, and this blackout was a favor granted with the intent of giving us a moment to breathe. This blackout was an intermission from the babble, the noise and the unrelenting weight of city life. Naturally, people began to speculate whether criminals would seize this opportunity to commence an orgy of crime and debauchery. There were suspicions by many that this weakened state would signal the opportunity to engage in mayhem, but surprisingly, people (for the most part) turned their focus on to surviving this event gracefully.
Despite concerns, there were very few reports of looting or other blackout-inspired crime. In New York City, the police department, out in full force, actually recorded about 100 fewer arrests than average. In some places, citizens even took it upon themselves to mitigate the effects of the outage, by assisting elderly neighbors or helping to direct traffic in the absence of working traffic lights. (“Blackout hits Northeast United States”)
Everyone shut up, sit down, and talk to each other.
… and that’s what began to happen, and it was beautiful.
All over the city, people began to connect with each other in ways that technology and the hustle and bustle of city life had diminished over the decades. Neighbours who lived for years beside each other spoke for the very first time (“Third Anniversary Of August 2003 Blackout”). It seemed as if the absence of all the “noise” which became the theme music to our daily lives was the only thing that would allow for this. Was there chaos and panic?; sure. However, in the midst of that deadly combo we found our humanity. We found a beauty in human interaction that seemed to only exist in movies.
Without power, residents of Toronto took to the streets to help direct traffic; florists arranged flowers for weddings by candlelight; and convenience stores served customers in the blackness. The night sky was a rarely seen canopy of dazzling stars, twinkling down on the darkened city through soft summer heat that lingered into the evening. (Ballingall)
In the dark midst of the traffic chaos, unknown heros shed their daily disguises and stepped out into the mayhem of what had now became four-way stop intersections. These angels of order and guidance drifted gracefully onto the middle of the asphalt paved crossroads, and with the might of their Duracell powered light staffs, transformed themselves into beacons of direction that would guide irate drivers home. Their efforts did not go unnoticed either, as countless passers-by provided what relief and food they could muster. Speaking of food …
The city never smelled better.
This day should also go down as the biggest simultaneous cookouts and BBQs in history. Refrigerators without electricity just became large metal boxes, and the contents in those boxes were now defrosting their way into a maggot-buffet. So naturally, the desire to not waste heaps of meat lead to rows of neighbours firing up the propane tanks on their BBQs.
Neighbourhoods all over the Northeastern parts of America and Ontario participated in impromptu cookouts, and people who lived next to each other for years, never speaking to one another, were now gathered in the name of the holy trinity: barbecue sauce, beers, and ample rolls of tissue paper. It was a sight to behold; people who were once strangers living next to each other, assembled themselves under the strange yet seductive glow of the moon and actually spoke to each other.
I saw the stars …
As I lay in my home, sweating from the unplanned absence of my beloved air conditioning unit, I decided to do something I haven’t done for years; I stepped out onto my porch, and I looked up. It was about 2AM, and some unknown force drew me out to my porch. At this time of night, most of the streaking headlights of cars passing by had long ceased to invade the beauty of the newly moonlit landscape which lay before me. The moon’s wonderfully odd glow was laid beautifully against the outline of the trees, streets and eerily dark homes, and for the first time in a very, very long time, I saw the stars. Twinkling and shining brighter than I had seen since a camping trip 15 years ago, I sat on my porch and had my breath taken away over and over again. The opportunity of being able to take in the beauty of distant cosmos was something that was afforded to us by this blackout. The absence of what people refer to as “light-pollution” gave way to a (mostly) unobstructed view of the heavens above us. I suspect that many did the same that night; sitting in awe of one of the very few phenomena unmolested by mankind.
The blackout was much more than a widespread loss of power. It was more than the negative outcome of a failing power grid. For many it was a wakeup call instituted by chance, or “the forces that be”, regardless of what name you may assign to that unknown force. In this industrial age, where technology has seemingly taken the place of basic communication, humanity has become caught up in its own chaotic web of restlessness.
During this blackout, strange neighbours became old friends. People focused on the livelihood of those around them more than their Twitter-feed, or what was going to happen on tonight’s episode of The Jersey Shore. Once loving couples who had grown distant in the hysteria of human living were forced to embrace the soft-glow and accidental romance of a dinner by candlelight. Shop-keepers normally concerned only about keeping their books “in the black”, sought only to bring smiles to the neighbourhood children by handing out free ice cream (Miller). Hospitals plowed through the sudden loss of resources. Doctors, nurses and caretakers understood the dire need of their extended presence in this emergency, and worked tirelessly to provide the care our communities needed. Life-support systems continued to run, injuries were tended to, and children were born. Children like Luca Garagozzo, who was born during the blackout and ironically named after the Italian word for “light” (Ballingall).
Lucky Luca
Luca was one of the few that was born into a world that was (for a moment) more compassionate and simple than the days that came before the blackout. He was born during an event in history that shattered our way of life, but gave way to a beauty that had nothing to do with technology or our quest for perfection. The darkness made it easier for us to see the smiles on the faces of our fellow man, and the silencing of technology’s background noise made it easier to hear the laughter that accompanied those very same smiles. The blackout was a welcomed relief from the noise and chaos of our lives, and for a moment, helped us to withdraw from what was expected in our day. It was a historic event that perhaps needs to happen every once in a while; grounding us when our collective heads get lost in the clouds. Maybe it was something we all needed. Maybe it took the spread of darkness to better notice the light that was flickering among us all along.
Submitted August 15, 2015 at 08:20AM by SoulSonick http://ift.tt/1JiEujs toronto
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