Diary of a Freeze-In

...Later, we find two corsages still in the refrigerator and a half-dozen plastic shampoo bottles in the bathtub It must be interesting to have daughters (Diane notices that all the shampoos are for oily hair Has she spotted a teenage trend...

...States of the Union DIARY OF A FREEZE-IN BY RICHARD J MARGOLIS WILTON, CONNECTICUT MONDAY, DECEMBER 17?I dream I am on a stalled train Drifting snow presses against the windows as we sit in the cold car, our bodies hunched and bent like praying monks The conductor, who reminds me of someone I like but can't remember, tells us not to worry We will soon be awake, he says Even before I open my eyes I know something is wrong The furnace—that cheerful, ratthng heartbeat—is silent, and all I hear is the splatter of crushed ice dropping from the skies The warmth in our electric blanket has leaked away, our clock has frozen at 5 27 I'm the first one awake I bundle up—can't find my gloves—and go outside to get logs for the fireplace The world is sagging beneath megatons of ice A sapling across the pond is bent upon itself, forming a graceful arch, and the woods beyond crackle in small explosions as branches break and trees topple Each blade of grass is encased in a tube of ice As I walk, the lawn tinkles like the crystal chandelier my family had in the dining room when I was a boy The comforting sound joined to the uncomfortmg circumstances draws a shiver from my bones There is a terror here on my patio, a nonsuburban presence that has no respect for two-acre zoning I get a vague deja vu of a story I clipped years ago from the Tunes, and after I have carried in logs and started a fire, I hunt up the item It turns out to have been an excerpt from a Walter Sullivan "science piece" in 1962 "Ice sheets,' Sullivan wrote, "are thought to have spread across North America and Eurasia four tunes during the Glacial Epoch, or Pleistocene There is no clear indication that this epoch is at an end " Beneath the pasted clipping is a poem of sorts, penned in my finest eschatological manner Four tunes the steaming Juggernaut Came madly down the world's steeper side, Caught life in full surprise Neanderthals still half asleep Blinked slowly at the northern din A waiting some vast favor, like weekend guests They were buried with the rest By now the household is astir Harry and Phil, my sons, are eating a cold, nonelectric breakfast of milk and cereal My wife, Diane, wrapped in a white serape, is stuffing newspapers into the fireplace "Now this is an energy crisis'" she says "I keep switching on lights and waiting tor the toaster to pop Very peculiar " The phone starts ringing—shivering friends wanting to know whether they are shivering alone or in company We learn that lines are down everywhere, most of Fairfield County is shorted out, we are victims?to cite the moving words of the Connecticut Light & Power Company—of "a generalized outage " Diane invites Tony and Lucille, our weekend neighbors from New York who are this Monday stranded in Connecticut, to huddle with us We play Monopoly in front of the fireplace, Tony kibitzing fiercely ("Listen to me, Lucille, if you buy B&O you'll be making a ternble mistake...

...to all comers, and the town is giving away firewood hewn from tallen trees in the Town Forest The sleeting has stopped, and the CL&P, our nonutopian utility, is gradually untangling the lines Meanwhile, we notice that lots of people are enjoying themselves They reminisce about World War II or about rugged camping taps they have survived, and seem to feel that the present emergency is just another test of then: hardihood This morning friends called to tell us they had cooked a fondue last night in their fireplace and it was "the best meal we ever had " A septuagenarian of our acquaintance, who lives on Spectacle Lane, has been burning coal in her bedroom fireplace, though neighbors keep popping in to warn her of fire, brimstone and asphyxiation "Go away and mind your business,' she tells them from beneath three quilts "But as long as you're here, go down to the basement and get me some more coal " Phil and Harry are going to a dance tonight, and so, it seems, are all their friends Our house has become a vast dressing room, and a preening and primping station The girls are donning new, lush formals, the boys, rented and slightly threadbare tuxedos Diane finds camera and flash and attempts to preserve "the memorable moment,' just as they do in television commercials, but the battery is dead and the moment passes unpreserved Will the energy crisis never cease...

...the rest of us happily throwing dice and making deals It becomes one of those marathons None of us knows much about real estate, but we know what we like "I'll give you my two purples for your two reds," I say lazily to Phil, feigning indifference "You must be mad" is his sweet reply At 3 30 in the afternoon, just as a lady at the Connecticut Light & Power Company is telling me on the phone that we may have to wait another 36 hours for power to be restored, our furnace starts up, making a soft, warm purr Inexphcably, we and others in our neighborhood are back on the juice, while the rest of the town remains unplugged The gods have given us "most favored neighborhood" status "Because we're so virtuous," I tell Diane "Because we're so soft," she corrects me TUESDAY—Friends who have heard of our good fortune are beginning to drop in for showers and flush-toilet privileges (for the plumbing in our town moves electrically, each family owning its separate-but-equal pump) Some arrive carrying sleeping bags and toothbrushes Linda MacColl, the youngest daughter of friends Jane and Stewart, has with her two ger-billes who reside in a plastic castle complete with a tower they can climb to get food Since this is my week to look things up, I rush to the dictionary and learn that ger-billes are "jumping mice" from "the desert regions of Russia" Something else to be grateful to the Russians for Our cat eyes the jumping mice Linda eyes the cat The mice, from atop their turret, eye Linda They form a nervous tableau Apparendy the whole town is on edge The high school, which has its own generator, is being used as an emergency Hilton for the frozen citizenry—three families to a classroom—and peace does not reign We're told that some of the younger hostellers held a pot party in the cafeteria last night The police arrested them, but not before one of the youths had shoved an officer down the stairs This is the town's first brush with communal living "The highest and best form of efficiency," intoned Woodrow Wilson, "is the spontaneous cooperation of a free people " Maybe we'll do better next time Tonight I try nickel-and-dime poker with Harry and Phil and their tnends, while a half-dozen others sleep heavily on couches and on the living room floor My teenage opponents play a shrewd game, it is hard work to stay even By 3 am the only noises in the house are the furnace, the pump and the jumping mice from the steppes The cat is out, probably looking for a fight Spontaneous cooperation is not his strong suit WEDNESDAY—I may have been unjust to my town It is true that some of the high school guests have misbehaved, but most of the 700 people who have taken sanctuary there are keeping their wits and their tempers, sipping nothing stronger than Dr Peppers, and watching WC Fields movies in the cafeteria Everyone seems to be rising to the occasion The volunteer fire department is working the clock-around dousing fires caused by persons unable to steer a middle course between freezing and burning, the local YMCA is offering free showers and coffee—both hot...

...We clean up the mess and fall into bed, grateful tor the faint bum of our electric blanket As I slide toward sleep, I suddenly remember whom the conductor on the stalled tram reminded me of 'Twas my brother...