Many injuries and deaths can be prevented through an understanding of the dangers of power lines, electrical appliances, extension cords, and lightning.
— Richard Neal, American Congressman
The winds blew, the thunder roared and the lightning flashed. There was a loud “boom,” a flash of light through the house, a scream, then everything went dark. It might have been a regular Prairie power outage except for the boom. I retrieved flashlights from the laundry room and smelled smoke. Sam grabbed the phone, punching in the electric outage numbers. I walked to the front porch. All had stilled in the not quite darkness. The transformer pole stood in the middle of the drive turnaround. The transformer looked normal. Although I rarely look up, there was something not right about the metal tube that was now dangling. Sam and I sat on the front porch waiting for the lineman from the county electric company. It was Sunday night so someone out there was on call. I imagined the lineman leaving his home, rounding up the work truck, and heading out. Sam looked at his phone, “Wonder how long it will take him.” “Hard to say,” I answered. “He could be coming from Caledonia for all we know.” We continued to look at the rain-soaked fields and wondered where the cats were.
The young lineman showed up 45 minutes later, and in 15 minutes he’d be done. Could have been faster but with Sam, the two talked crappie fishing while the young man worked. The lineman took a pole that looked 100 feet long, inched it up toward that hanging contraption, flipped it over, and clicked it into place. He would do two of those, the lights came on, and he was on his way. Maybe back to Caledonia.
Inside we went about checking electrical appliances. The television came on but no satellite connection. Internet was active. The microwave was fine. The clock on the range worked. The LED light over the kitchen was out. A Google search confirmed LED lights are sensitive to lightning strikes. The fixture would need replacing. The dryer worked. The washing machine did not — possible site of the smoke smell. The refrigerator worked. Computer and printer worked. A.C. worked. Motion lights intact. For the most part it looked like we had dodged the bullet until I started cooking supper. The quiche slid into the stove while I dashed out to feed the duck. On my return Sam said, “Everything’s not good.” He held up a burned and blackened quiche. It appeared the oven no longer knew when to stop heating. The quiche and the oven were a total loss.
The Maytag man was waiting for our call. He came right out the next day and fixed the washer. Sam replaced the LED fixture. We would later learn the bedroom on the west side had no power. Sam fixed that. The satellite man restored service. For a short while we’ll be cooking in the microwave and crockpot and maybe enjoy a few pick-up meals until we can choose a range. All in all, we are very grateful. We could be sitting in sackcloth and ashes wondering what happened.
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].
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