Things become a little strange in Mississippi once winter storms arrive. Snow is welcomed with open arms, seemingly harmless and fun. Ice, however, is like a drunken house guest – slippery, dangerous and usually overstaying its welcome.

Regardless of which frozen form of H₂O comes our way, you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone in these parts who objects to a short hibernation during such conditions. That is, as long as the electricity stays on. But when power lines fall and water pipes break, our coveted solitude becomes a sentence rather than a stay.

Last Saturday morning, as my wife, Shannon, and I perused the aisles of Kroger, the remnants of ice-storm panic were on full display, most notably in the scarcity of milk and bread. I paused and thought: How much bread can one household eat? Or for that matter, how much milk? I do know that when our oldest son, Colton, was in high school, he could go through a gallon of milk in three days. So, who am I to judge?

As we placed our five half-gallon containers of ice cream, seven packs of bacon and two pints of strawberries onto the conveyor belt at checkout, I decided that everyone’s choice of hibernation food is personal. We all prioritize what we need to survive, and for many it’s milk, bread and nonperishables.

For me, I try not to go more than a couple of hours without consuming bacon, and I basically bought milk – it was just frozen. As for the strawberries, we all know a balanced diet is important. Never mind that the ice cream may or may not be the vessel for the bacon and strawberries – it’s still balanced, right?

Despite my tongue-in-cheek take on winter-storm survival, there’s nothing funny about when lives and homes are affected by natural disasters. It’s not easy looking at social media pictures of the damage north of us. It’s really bad.

We’re just not prepared for ice storms down here. Even though they’re somewhat regular during winter, we still don’t tailor disaster preparedness to such conditions. We’re more suited for tornadoes. More often than not, a typical Mississippi ice storm simply shuts down school and work for a few days. But when a big one hits, it hits hard – and it doesn’t discriminate.

Unlike the storm, however, we are often quick to discriminate. It’s a pall cast over us like a curse, yet somehow it evolves beautifully during times of need. Mournfully, Mississippi may still wear the scarlet letter D, but just like Hester Prynne in the classic novel, our shameful letter takes on a new, resilient meaning when faced with tragedy.

Decency, determination and dedication are just a few examples that come to mind. When our neighbors need us, we don’t ask why. It’s healing for humanity when we put aside our differences and bring our hearts together, all for the common good.

In a world that is so connected, we’ve become unconnected. The pressures of clinging to irrelevant forms of relevancy make us afraid to let go. It literally takes a force of nature to remind us who we are. But when life as we know it must cease and desist, we disconnect from what can wait and reconnect with what matters most – one another.

Our area was fortunate to not lose power during this most recent winter event. But thousands suffered that fate and far worse. We may not know how or when to help them, if at all. But in turn, we can express gratitude and gain empathy through perspective. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: We never know when sirens are coming our way.

Mr. Rogers once said, “Look for the helpers.” Luckily, in our crooked-letter state, we never have to look far. Mississippians are just good like that. Our scarlet letter is obvious but paradoxical. It serves as an atonement only we understand, all while doing our best to make it right in spite of ourselves.

I was secretly looking forward to my culinary creativity during a power outage. Regardless, we cooked well and counted our blessings. I also have plenty of ice cream and a few packs of bacon left, so I can’t really ask for much more.

On the subject of cooking, I’d like to thank Ed Williams of Starkville. He bestowed me with his Sargent Charles Backwoods BBQ sauce, beef jerky and snack mix. The sauce is so good I could drink it – and who knows, I may just have to try it on some ice cream.

Clay Bowen is a Columbus native who cooked professionally as a chef in fine dining for 12 years and appeared on the third season of Top Chef. He is also a licensed landscape horticulturist. Email him at [email protected].

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