Little House in the Big Bedford Woods

If there is one lesson to learn from Irene it's that my kids would never survive if they had lived during the day of Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Truthfully, I'm not sure I would have, either.  When Irene swept through and stole our power, for several days we existed much like I imagine the Ingalls family did two centuries ago.

I could paint a rosy image of the electric free days and describe simple evenings spent visiting neighbors, or bed time stories that lingered much longer than usual.

All true. But that's not what you're going to read. The fact is we all got cranky fairly quickly without  modern conveniences.

My first clue that my children's survival skills were not up to par was when we went out for hurricane clean up. I asked everyone to pick up the branches that were strewn about. This seemed like a simple task, even for a four year old. I suspect that if Laura, Mary and Carrie Ingalls had been asked to help clear out the mess after a storm, they would have said, "sure thing, Pa," and the job would have been done well, and completed promptly.

Not so here at the little house in the big Bedford woods where I not only had to ask several times before one stick was removed, but then had to make a game of it with the boys, where we tried to see who could throw the twig furthest away from the yard.

Then, when my daughter found a rake, a brawl broke out as to who would possess this tool, and I couldn't help but think that the Ingalls girls would not have been reduced to trivial sibling rivalry after that dust storm hit the prairie and they had to sweep out their home.  

At least storm clean up gave the kids something to do. Once completed, the children went into serious withdrawal without their screens. My daughter begged to check her e-mail on my husband's iPhone, and my son beseeched me to turn on each of the computers to prove to him there was no internet connection. I missed my electronic babysitter, the television, not so much for my own entertainment but for the hour of peace it bought me each day.

What did Laura and her sisters do without Club Penguin and The Disney Channel? I thought my neighbor was inspired when his kids whined about how they were going to spend yet another unplugged day and he told them they would go outside and play with the dog for eight hours. They did not share in his enthusiasm.

And with all the extra chores, like Caroline "Ma" Ingalls, there was little time for me to  entertain the kids. But as I filled the toilet's tank with the bath water I stored before Irene hit so that we could flush, I felt sorry for myself. I tried to remember that I was lucky to have indoor plumbing, and lugging jugs of water up and down the stairs a dozen times was no doubt easier than having to go to an outhouse to relieve myself.

But filling the toilet turned out to be an easy task compared to feeding my family in Irene's aftermath. While it is true that Charles "Pa" Ingalls hunted for food, I don't think that is any easier than procuring meals for my family post Irene.

On the first night, we loaded up the buggy and along with our neighbors drove the fifteen miles to White Plains where the Cheesecake Factory opened its doors at 5 p.m. This was risky business, because as "non essential personnel" we were breaking town ordinance by driving. I couldn't offer peanut butter and jelly for a third time that day, though, and the milk had already soured.

On the second day, with beautiful blue skies, I thought I would grill, but with several supermarkets closed and many more out of ice, I just ordered a pizza. At least I knew I wouldn't have to worry about refrigerating leftovers.

When my grandchildren complain to their parents about how unfair life is, I hope they are told that while growing up in the big Bedford woods, their grandmother dragged their parents great distances just to get a bag of ice. Of course, if the men folk on the block would simply sharpen their rifles, it might be easier to cook up some venison. That's what Michael Landon did.

I admire Pa and Ma Ingalls for their ability to stay upbeat in the wilderness. I might be able to hold it together after keeping my toilets filled, clearing out trees and foraging for food if I had a shower, and even though the kids deny it, they would be less cranky if they could bathe, too.

Anyone who says the world has changed and neighbors just don't watch out for one another anymore doesn't live on my block! Walnut Creek lives right here in Bedford and when my neighbor fled for city life and a hotel room in White Plains, she generously offered us the use of her shower facilities. We once again hitched up the buggy braved the perilous journey down south to get clean. That shower went a long way toward positive parenting and I no longer will take for granted the luxury of wiping off the daily grime.

Irene has taught me lots about survival in an electricity free world, and with NYSEG predicting several more days until the power is restored, I am sure I will learn much more. And the minute the lights get turned on, the television will go on and I will sit the kids down for a "Little House on the Prairie" marathon. It's about time they know how good they have it.