Life is what happens when things go awry

I smiled, but inwardly, I was seething.

“Is there any chance you could put those phones away while we share our first dinner together since Covid?” I asked my two adult daughters and son-in-law. “Surely this is more important than whoever’s on the other side of that screen.”

“Sure mom,” replied Brynn. “Was just checking the pet camera to see where Misha is. She’s curled up on the couch as usual…”

As if I cared where the darn cat was!

I tried not to glare at Valerie as she clicked off her iPhone. “I just sent Alex’s mom and dad a photo of this delicious spread before we demolish it.” 

She turned to Alex and said gently, “Honey, doesn’t your boss know we’re having dinner with mom and dad tonight for the first time in 3 years? Surely he can give you a couple of hours' break? Please put the phone away.”

“Of course,” Alex apologized. “Consider it done! Sorry Mrs. B. Randall lives on his phone and…”

“Well, someone needs to remind Randall that the rest of us don’t, especially at dinnertime,” I replied, feeling more irritated by the second. “Now let’s eat!”

And that’s when all the lights went out. Good thing no one could see my face.

“Oh great, “ sighed my hubby, Kevin. “Looks like another blackout. Having so many of them lately. Wonder if it’s just in our neighborhood or…?”

“I’ll check my phone, dad,” said Brynn, trying to remember where she put it on the kitchen counter somewhere behind her.

“Mine’s in my back pocket, Brynn,” said Alex. “I’ll check it.” Silently, I was thankful for their cell phones. Would this blackout finish before dinner got cold?

“Well, in the meantime, let me grab a flashlight from the drawer,” said hubby, feeling his way over to the kitchen hutch. “And we need to find some candles.”

“There are plenty in the dining room,” I said, “if I can feel my way there.” 

I let out another sigh of anguish. “Oh, Corky! Get out of the way. Darn dog. Always getting under my feet!”

“Here, let me do it, mom before you trip over something besides Corky…poor little thing. He doesn’t know what’s going on,” offered Val, stumbling over the footstool I’d left near the kitchen counter. “Crap!” She swore, rubbing her shin. 

In the meantime, all I could think of was how dinner was cooling off and how "hangry" I was.

“Alex! Have you found out anything yet? Are they indicating what’s happened and how long it’ll last? Dinner’s getting cold.” 

I scowled. I’d worked so hard all day preparing this scrumptious feast for our reunion dinner and now no one could even see it to eat it. “Val? Find those candles yet?”

Alex started to speak but before he could say anything, an agitated Val yelled:

“Dad…I need that flashlight!”

“Give an old man a break,” Kevin groaned. “I can’t see a darn thing. On top of that, my hearing aid batteries just quit!” 

Frustrated, I was about to say “What’s your hearing aid got to do with finding the flashlight?” when Brynn, ever tactless, stated the other suggestion I’d made to Kevin some months back:

“Well, dad, if you’d just get with it and buy a newer re-chargeable hearing aid, you wouldn’t have that ongoing problem.”

Again, Alex tried to say something but, as usual, I rudely interrupted.

“That’s exactly what I keep telling him. Such a techno-dinosaur…not that rechargeables are much good when we don’t have power! Say, Alex, have you found out what the problem is yet? How long are we going to be sitting in the dark?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” laughed the always calm and good-natured Alex. “According to Hamilton Hydro, we could be down for at least 4 hours, maybe more!”

We all groaned. Dinner was turning into a fiasco; I was unfairly on edge, and then a horrible thought entered my addled brain:

“Oh no!” The sump pump!” I screamed. “We’ve had so much rain and…”

I didn’t need to finish the sentence. Guided by that one flashlight, and 3 cell phone lights, all five of us carefully felt our way down the dark stairs into a pitch-black basement with only memory guiding us toward the sump pump. Every one of us except Kevin could hear the steady trickle of water filling the bowl. The pump itself was ominously silent. 

“We’re going to have to start bailing,” said Kevin, “…if we can find some old buckets I keep in the store-room.”

Bob, Val and Brynn, and I were on it immediately, dipping buckets into the sump pump basin that was filling faster than we could empty them into the laundry room drain. Meanwhile, dear old Kevin, my Mr. Fixit, was thinking of a way to get that pump working without electricity. 

“If I can somehow hook up the pump to my car battery…that’s it! I can connect my inverter to the car battery and plug the pump into the inverter and hey presto! We should have a working sump pump, at least temporarily…”

The family bucket brigade paused only long enough for Brynn to remind Kevin that,

“If you and mom had followed my advice ages back to buy a generator, we’d have lights, and power, and wouldn’t be bailing our butts off now…”

“Oh shut up Brynn,” snapped Val, putting her sister in place. “Let dad do what he thinks might work before you pooh-pooh his idea. We haven’t dubbed him Mr. Fixit for nothing!”

“That’s true,” apologized Brynn. “Sorry, Dad. Let me help you see your way back upstairs and into the garage, and we’ll get this set up.”

“God…let’s hope this works,” I sighed, feeling my back beginning to ache from lifting and draining the water-heavy buckets. Val had managed to light several candles to help us find our way back and forth to the laundry room. It was hard work for a grumpy oldie like me. Thank heaven we had fast and hard-working Alex to help us out: he was emptying 3 buckets to my one every 5 minutes.

Ten minutes later, Kevin and Brynn had the car battery, inverter, and sump pump connected. I think we all held our breaths for the second it took to hit the switch on the sump pump and, for one moment, there was no sweeter sound than that pump clicking on and draining that basin.

“YAY!” We three women yelled in unison.

“Good thinking, Mr. B!” said Alex, straightening and arching himself backward. “

“That’s my Mr. Fixit,” I smiled as our candlelights burned lower by the second. Trying to keep up the good feeling with a touch of my often questionable humor, I said,

“Well, let’s just hope dad’s car battery has more life in it than his hearing-aid batteries!”

I suspect it’s a good thing several candles sputtered and died at that moment. I’m sure otherwise the looks on everyone else’s faces would have killed me.

Then of course, as so often happens at dramatic family times like this, suddenly all the lights came on.

“Thank heaven for that” sighed Kevin, no doubt glad he didn’t have to respond to my question about his car battery.

“Can I have an Amen?” Whooped Brynn.

“You can have as many as you want,” I said as Val and Alex high-fived each of us.

Then something else hit me: my stomach growled loudly. I was starving! Weren’t we all? 



“Oh no…dinner!”

We all raced upstairs, grabbed the serving pots from the table, and began reheating everything in the microwave or on the stove.

I groaned a little inside thinking how much I hated reheated food, but somehow, that no longer mattered. What mattered was how our little family had come together when we needed each other.

Now that was worth celebrating.