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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Storm Journals Fallen Trees Cause Tears To Fall

Editor’s note: We asked three people in the community to keep “journals of the ice days.” Three people living through the same storm, but in different ways, with different thoughts about the experience. Here is the second installment. More to follow.

By Kathleen Corkery Spencer Special to The Spokesman-Review

Our staff meeting today was planned for 6 a.m. I don’t know if it has been canceled so I get up, dust the dog hair off the clothes I wore to bed last night and set out. I am not blindly devoted to work. I want to see what has happened to the world around me. I take my flashlight and drive to the office.

I check my rear-view mirror about six times before it sinks in that the reason I can’t see anything is because I am driving in complete darkness. Mine is the only car on the road. It occurs to me that I am insane. I drive around huge trees and fallen lines. I comfort myself with the idea that the car is grounded. It’s not much comfort.

I cross Division Street and head in the direction of Northpointe. I see lights. Safeway rises in the distance like the Promised Land. People are hanging around in the parking lot pointing at the street lights as if they are witnessing a miracle. They are. I fight off the urge to stop and buy two dozen donuts and a gallon of chocolate milk. My body, which requires little prodding to lay in a store of winter fat, is responding appropriately to this crisis. It’s nice to know you can count on something.

Our staff meeting consists of my boss and I talking peripherally about work and primarily about the weather. We are both tired and distracted, thinking about our families and how we will keep our pipes from freezing. I close the office early and go home. Again, my fellow travelers are - without exception - cautious and considerate.

When I arrive home I find my husband in the back yard beside the old tree that fell last night. He is counting its age rings. He counts 114. The hole that the tree left behind is more than 7 feet deep. My husband, the human equivalent of a golden retriever with the soul of conservationist John Muir, cries for the old tree. I remember why I married him.

So far, we have lost 12 trees. None has fallen on houses or hurt another living thing. The trees I prayed for, the oldest, tallest soldiers, did not fall. They stand glistening in the sun against a cold, brilliant sky. The terrible, sacred beauty of nature has shaken us awake.

Corkery Spencer, 42, is a Spokane free-lance writer.

By Marilyn Hart Special to The Spokesman-Review

I chipped off a piece of hardened, freeze-dried coffee that had been hiding in the back of the cupboard. There was enough warm water left in the hot water tank to make a tepid mug of coffee. There were batteries in the tape player so I could listen to “The Star of the County Down.” It is comforting to know that if the batteries run out, I can still hear that beautiful ballad over and over in my mind.

After a breakfast of peanut butter sandwiches, my 9-year-old daughter Mandy and I went about our usual routine of reading Scriptures and then feeding the stray cats around our apartment complex. When Mandy and I see those poor homeless animals, we feel fortunate indeed. They are sick and hungry and no one cares.

It was a blessing that my sister had power. She invited us over to her house for a hot lunch. The break from the cold and having a hot cup of tea was a real treat. We then went home to evacuate the lizard and the bird. I put the lizard (he’s an old lizard) in my shirt and drove back to my sister’s home.

My sister was first in line for a hot shower. She got about halfway through when the lights went out. Mandy and her cousin got a warm bath by candlelight. Then they had a bowl of Coco Puffs for dinner. As we drove back to our dark, cold little apartment on the lower South Hill, I saw that the restaurants and hotels had power. Money isn’t everything, but a hot meal and a warm bed sure would be nice.

At home, I tucked Mandy into bed and we read “The Book of Virtues” by flashlight. After Mandy fell asleep, I read a story in the book about the “volunteer of Auschwitz” - a priest who chose to die in another prisoner’s place. We really don’t know hardship at all.

Hart, 43, is a Spokane single mom.

By Gleyn Bledsoe Special to The Spokesman-Review

This shelter at Libby has become a secondary nursing home and care facility. That’s becoming our primary mission. But we’re still trying to maintain our original population, too. We have about 130 people here now; 90 of them have special needs.

It’s all been a special challenge for me as shelter manager. But we still try to have some fun. We have two big television screens now. KXLY rented one of them for us for the duration. So we have their station on all the time. We pretty much agreed to keep it on because they donated the screen. The kids have the other TV. They are watching the Disney Channel. Our cable line was knocked out but we’re connected to a satellite dish. We also have closed-caption television.

People are passing time by gathering together and having conversations. Cards and games are going on, too. People are in pretty good spirits but they are worrying about their homes. We fed them Salisbury steak last night. I don’t know if it was good, because I didn’t have a chance to eat it. I ate crackers later. Chicken in a Biskit crackers, I’m becoming addicted to them! I had two hours of sleep last night. I found a cot in the corner. I didn’t have any dreams. I think I’m still in one.

We made a plea for help, and we have more volunteers than we know what to do with. We also made a plea for good weather. We didn’t quite get that. I haven’t even had the chance to make a phone call to see if my apartment has its power back on. Maybe later.

Bledsoe, 32, is a Spokane college student.