Ice Storm, page 13
Compared to regular milking, the process took a long time. Compared to ice storm milking, it was a dream come true. The generator was theirs alone. They didn’t have to share. They could get all the chores done in the proper order and nobody cared how long it took. But finally, finally the cows were happy. They were fed, they were watered, they were milked and the whole family felt like cheering except they were too tired.
As they trooped back to the house, Sophie’s mother said, “Showers for everybody! Before you collapse!” Sébastien drew up a schedule, putting himself last. “It’s been kind of nice not having to take baths,” he admitted to his uncle. “Maybe the hot water will be gone before it’s my turn.”
It felt so good to be clean. Alice hadn’t showered for six days, Dad for seven. Her aunt heated up one of her delicious casseroles in the wood stove and they sat together for a family supper. There were tired grins on everybody’s faces.
“How long can you stay, Pierre?” asked Uncle Henri.
“I can stay the night. I’m working nearby for a couple of days, then going back to Montréal. I told Hydro I had to get Alice to safety before I did anything else. Thanks so much for taking care of her.”
“C’est rien,” replied Uncle Henri. “You are both family.”
“Uncle Pete,” asked Sébastien, “they say we won’t get power back for weeks. That can’t be true, can it?”
“It is, I’m afraid,” sighed Alice’s dad. “Here’s the problem. Some years ago Hydro-Québec built three major dams in James Bay. Most of our power comes from those dams.”
“James Bay is a long way away,” mused Sébastien.
“Yes, Sébastien. So how do you get all the power that Montréal needs from such a long way away? They had to design special high voltage lines that could carry more power than any line had ever carried before. These lines carry so much power that you don’t need as many of them.”
Everybody was nodding. That made sense. Alice’s dad went on. “That means there are only five power lines feeding Montréal. By Friday, four of them had collapsed. There is only one line left to power the whole city.”
“Whoa. Good thing that one didn’t go!” said Sébastien.
“It’s more than that,” said Alice’s dad seriously. “If we lose that last line, the whole city will have to be evacuated. Shut down completely. Not only does that create the problem of where to put three million homeless people, but it would take months to get the power grid operational again. Every service, like water and sewage and communications would shut down and when power came back, it would take ages to bring all the services back online, one by one. The whole economy would grind to a halt. Just think – three million people who aren’t working, studying or shopping. All the businesses would close, all the schools would close and all the stores would close. Nobody would have a job. All of Canada does business with Montréal, but there would be nobody in Montréal to do any business. It’s impossible to even imagine, but it nearly happened. And we’re not out of the woods yet. It still could.”
There was silence around the table. They had been listening to bad news for a week, but nothing this bad.
“That’s why the five power lines to Montréal have to be Hydro’s top priority. The grid can still fail. We can’t let it. It’s not that the farmers aren’t important, but the safety of the grid affects everybody. That’s why I have to get back to the main work in Montréal. I’m sorry, but your ‘Triangle Noir’ will have to stay black for a while longer,” said Alice’s dad.
Sophie patted his hand. “It’s not your fault, Uncle Pete. We know you’re working as hard as you can. Anyway, we’ve got a generator now!”
“Hurray!” they all shouted. Alice’s dad smiled wearily. It wasn’t too much longer before Maman called bedtime. None of them had slept well for a week, since the ice storm started. Tonight everything was changed. Alice was safe, the cows were safe and the grid was safe, at least for tonight.
Sophie pulled out the trundle bed in her room and got out the comforter. She looked at it critically then pushed the trundle back under the bed. “Climb in with me,” she said to Alice. “We’ll stay warmer.”
As Alice drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t have felt happier.
Six Weeks Later
Alice came off her warm-up. Mr. Osborne was glowering. He always glowered just before a competition. He frowned at the judges, sneered at the audience, and was grumpy with his students. As he made his way to Alice, a small smile tugged at her lip. It was time for Mr. Osborne’s famous “Don’t forget” speech.
“Now, Alice,” he began. “Are your laces tucked in? Underwear showing? Any hairpins loose?”
“All good, Mr. O,” replied Alice.
“Don’t forget to keep your head up. No spaghetti arms! If the double lutz goes badly – it doesn’t matter! Keep going. Don’t hold your breath when you prepare to jump. Don’t frown at me young lady, you know you hold your breath! Don’t forget to smile. And remember to have fun!”
Remember to have fun. Mr. Osborne said it before every competition and that was when Alice generally threw up.
Mr. Osborne had been curiously silent when she told him this was to be her last competition. Finally, he said, “I’m not giving up on you, Alice. Take a year off from competition, sure, but keep skating as much as you want. Work with the beginners on Saturdays, if it pleases you. See how you feel next year.”
Then Mr. Osborne and her dad had talked for a long time. Neither one of them seemed mad, which Alice thought was a little strange. Especially after all the worrying she’d done about what they would say, about how their lives would all change.
So today she felt different. It wasn’t just that her skating schedule was going to change. The ice storm had changed her too. Before the ice storm, skating was her whole life. During the storm, just surviving became way more important. And after the storm, well, Alice wasn’t sure what was most important any more. Rescuing the power grid was important. It had taken thirty-three whole days, but Dad, Hydro-Québec and the linemen that came from six provinces and eight states had done it. Saving the cows was important. After Uncle Henri got the generator, not one more cow died. Other things were not quite so important. She did know that today, it didn’t feel like the whole world would end if she skated badly.
Sophie was squirming on the cold arena seat. This was always the hardest moment for her, that moment when Alice was about to go on. She looked so beautiful in her sparkly costume, standing at the boards talking to her coach. Sophie reached out and grabbed Maman’s hand. Maman smiled reassuringly. Papa and Uncle Pete were talking. They both looked serious. Sébastien wasn’t even paying attention to Alice. He was gazing wide-eyed at Guillaume. Sébastien had heard many stories about Guillaume the taxi driver from Alice, but she’d never told him that Guillaume knew a lot of stories about the loup-garou. Sébastien was mesmerized.
At the end of the row sat the Tickle Lady. Uncle Pete had collected her from the nursing home where she was staying while her roof was being repaired. Mrs. Hartley said she intended to move back next door as soon as her house could be lived in again, but that was going to take a while. So many houses needed repairs. Sophie could sure see why Alice had been terrified of her. Mrs. Hartley was fierce.
Even Alice’s new friend Rachel had come with her mom. Sophie hoped having so many people there to cheer her on wouldn’t freak Alice out too much. Maman had a box of Kleenex in her bag just in case.
It was time. Alice skated to her opening position and the crowd went quiet. The music began. Alice closed her eyes for a brief moment, took a deep breath and began to move.
The ice felt like it was a part of her. It was where she belonged. She barely noticed the first double-lutz, double-toe jump combination because she was flying. Alice landed so softly that she felt like the ice was cushioning her. She didn’t hear the cheers of the crowd. Instead she felt the power in her thighs as she stroked hard into the double axel. She couldn’t wait to lift into the air; she knew her landing would be perfect. Her footwork made her feel light as a feather and her corkscrew spin was so centered she nearly drilled a hole into the ice. Alice didn’t want her solo to end. She felt just like she did in her very best practice sessions. Alice poured everything she was feeling into her final spin, threw her arms into a “V” of victory, then raised her face to the crowd. It was only when the music ended that she could hear them cheering.
Sophie’s throat was raw – she’d been screaming practically non-stop since Alice began to skate. What a performance! Uncle Pete hugged Maman as tears ran down their cheeks. Guillaume had Sébastien on his shoulders so he could throw a bouquet of flowers onto the ice. Rachel and her mom were looking kind of awestruck. Only Mrs. Hartley was still sitting. She wasn’t cheering or clapping or anything, but she was wearing a satisfied smile.
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“Well Alice, still want to take a year off?” Mr. Osborne asked Alice gloomily at their celebratory dinner at a nearby restaurant. “Now that you’re the star we always thought you could be?”
Her dad frowned at Mr. Osborne. “I know, I know,” said Mr. O, putting his hands up. “No pressure. But, my girl, you certainly went out with a bang!”
Alice just smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. O. I’ll be back.”
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The whole family went back to Alice’s house. It was too late to go back to Saint-Hyacinthe, so they were having a sleepover. Anyway, they had plans. Sébastien was going to show his first-ever home movie. He was calling it a World Premiere, so Alice and Sophie dressed up like they were walking down the red carpet or something. Alice put mousse in Sébastien’s dark hair, making it all spiky.
“There,” she said. “Now you look like a crazy movie director.”
Alice put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. Dad turned on the brand-new television, purchased just in time for the premiere. They all gathered in the living room. Sébastien put his video in the new vcr.
The movie started with a dark screen. Then Sébastien appeared, all dressed in black.
“The loup-garou is a shape-shifter. Mild-mannered human most of the time, at night he changes into a huge, fierce wolf. A monster. The wolf is mindless, destroying everything in its path. When it changes back to human, it has no memory of the horrors it has inflicted,” he intoned in a spooky voice as he raised his arms over his head.
“I am not afraid of the loup-garou!” he shouted. The onscreen Sébastien made a fierce face and struck a pose. Alice covered her mouth with her hands and tried not to look at Soph. She wouldn’t laugh, she wouldn’t! Then the rain started.
The family was silent as they relived the storm. Sébastien had chronicled everything. He must have been carrying his video camera the whole time. He had shots of the cows bawling in the barn and of the Mennonite hand-milkers who helped. He had shots of his chart, and of the parade of neighbours who followed the travelling generator and of the lineups for the shower. Aunt Evie smiled as she saw herself organizing all the women in the kitchen to cook casseroles together.
He had filmed the wreckage of the sugar bush. He’d interviewed some of the kids at school, even some teachers, about their experiences. There were lots of stories to tell; the power had been out for thirty-three days. He even had shots of the shelter at the high school in Saint-Hyacinthe, bringing back strong memories for Alice.
But mostly, he had shots of Sophie. Sophie driving the tractor, Sophie milking the cows, Sophie feeding Mélisande, Sophie delivering the hay, Sophie hauling water, Sophie cleaning the barn, Sophie hooking up the generator. Sophie couldn’t believe it. Her brother had made her look like the strongest, most capable person on earth.
When the film ended, there was silence in the living room. The movie had everything, all the laughter and all the tears. None of them would ever forget. Aunt Evie was crying, just a little, and trying to pretend she wasn’t. Dad clapped his hands.
“Bravo!” he cried. “Well done!”
It broke the ice. Everybody started to talk at once, about Sébastien’s cleverness, at the sneaky shots he’d been able to get when no one knew he was there, about the scary music he’d found for the soundtrack. They talked a lot about the film. They didn’t talk about the ice storm. They couldn’t. It was the monster. It had tried to destroy them. It had transformed their lives, made all of them different. But it hadn’t beaten them.
Alice reached for Sophie’s hand. They’d done it. They’d faced the monster, and won.
Author’s Note
There are two kinds of disasters. The first kind happens all at once, like an earthquake or a tsunami. Life changes in an instant. The second kind happens more slowly. It begins as an annoyance, like a leaky faucet. You try to fix the drip, but don’t worry when you can’t. The drip turns into a steady stream. No matter, it runs down the drain. But soon the water is pouring, gushing out of the faucet. Now you worry. As water pours onto the floor you finally realize you are in the middle of a disaster.
Some people think that slow disasters are worse than fast disasters. That’s because it takes us longer to recognize that we are in trouble, and when we do, we think we have time to fix it. But we don’t. A disaster is still a disaster, no matter the speed at which it occurs.
The Weather
Slow disasters are often weather-related. Weather, so far, is one thing that human beings cannot control.
The ice storm of 1998 started in the sunny Gulf of Mexico. Warm, moist air floated over the tropical sea until it hit the cool edge of Alabama. The cool landmass forced the warm air to rise. Clouds formed; rain fell. The clouds moved north. It rained in Tennessee, in Kentucky, and in West Virginia. It rained in Ohio. But in Ohio, the clouds hit a wall: the Great Lakes.
It was January, winter in Canada. The warm air from the south met the cold air in the north and there was a great crash.
To escape, the warm air rose again. Clouds formed; rain formed. But it was too cold to rain. The raindrops froze into ice crystals. The crystals fell through the layer of warm air, melting back to rain. The instant the supercooled raindrops landed, they froze. They froze on the houses, on the roads, on the power lines and the trees. And that’s how a whole city froze solid.
News Sources
A great deal has been written about the ice storm. For my research, I read many newspaper articles from old copies of the Montreal Gazette, the Ottawa Citizen and the Toronto Star. The ice storm was breaking news for days. I also spoke to people who lived through the storm, and I visited the sugar bush and the Montreal parks that still show terrible damage from the ice. Online, you can see YouTube videos and listen to people telling about their ice storm experiences.
Want to know more, or see some pictures of the storm? There are two very good books you can check out, both edited by Mark Abley. The Ice Storm: An Historic Record of Photographs 1998 is full of exciting, scary and heartwarming pictures. Some of the photos inspired scenes in this book. Stories From the Ice Storm is a collection of personal experiences. There’s a whole section of stories written by kids who survived the storm. Look carefully, and you might see some ice storm stories written by your favourite authors in this book.
Whose Fault Is It? The Politics of a Disaster
When bad things happen, people have a tendency to want to blame somebody or something for all the trouble. But, the weather isn’t anybody’s fault.
Hydro-Québec was blamed. They were blamed for building a system dependent on only five power lines. They were blamed for not having an emergency plan and for taking so long to fix the downed lines. The fact that Hydro-Québec had also brought great wealth to the province by selling power to others while keeping rates low for Québecers was forgotten.
The Québec government was blamed for waiting three days before asking the federal government for help.
Even scientists were blamed, because they hadn’t stopped climate change.
But all that blame didn’t help get the power back on.
Community
The other side of blame is praise. During the storm a wonderful sense of community developed, and from that came many happy stories.
Sixteen thousand Canadian Forces soldiers were part of Operation Recuperation, the largest peacetime deployment ever. They checked homes, took people to shelters, worked on the power lines, cleaned up (and recycled) the broken transformers and power lines, and distributed generators and other supplies.
When line technicians arrived in a neighbourhood to restore the power lines, homeowners applauded in the streets. They brought sandwiches, doughnuts and coffee to the workers.
Communities got together and collected winter clothes for the American line technicians who came from the warm south to help. They weren’t used to working in wind chill conditions of -40 degrees Celsius, but it didn’t stop them.
One hundred and forty line technicians from Manitoba drove for thirty-six straight hours to come to help in the Triangle of Darkness. The town where they were stationed flew the Manitoba flag the whole time they were there.
Lots of people contributed their personal skills. Electricians and plumbers manned open-line talk shows over the radio to help people protect their homes from damage. Doctors made house calls. Ham radio operators relayed messages between emergency personnel and hospitals. Pet stores with generators collected tropical fish and “fishsat” them to save their lives. Hairstylists visited shelters, styling hair for free to raise peoples’ spirits.
Volunteers in Toronto created Project Warmth, collecting five hundred sleeping bags to send to the freezing people in the Triangle of Darkness.
My favourite storm story comes from a small, very poor village in Mali, Africa. For years, the dairy farmers of this village had benefited from aid from the richer farmers of Québec. When the African villagers heard of the ice storm, they sent a donation to their Canadian friends.
