Signs of Life

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Signs of Life

Nancy L. Horner

Christmas On Ice

The crackling sound of tiny ice pellets hitting windows signaled the bad news: three days before Christmas, 1998, and we were having an ice storm.

"I hope we don't lose power," I said. I snuffled and huddled under a blanket on the sofa. I was coming down with a nasty head cold and unwilling to bother with the everyday housework.

Ignoring me, David laughed in front of the TV as he watched news clips of people stocking up for the storm. For some reason, the "stocking up" segments shown on the local news stations always seem to involve images of clerks running cases of beer across grocery store scanners. "We blew it; I didn't stock up on beer," he said. We both chuckled.

All night Tuesday and well into Wednesday the 23rd, for a full 36 hours, ice continued to fall, creating a thick coating that weighed down tree branches and eventually bent them till they snapped. By evening, there was enough ice on the trees that they were falling all over the place, knocking down power lines as they keeled over.

Up the hill behind our home, the neighbors' dog sat outdoors in the freezing rain, barking continuously. In response to his cries, the dog's owners turned on their powerful backyard security light and continued to ignore him. David and I took turns muttering, "I can't believe they're not letting him in. Poor dog."

At 9:30 p.m. our power went out, so we lay in the dark listening to "Craaackk—BOOM!" and "Arrfff!" noises all night long. Huge limbs and trees as large as 3 feet in diameter fell in our neighborhood, making a mess that would look like a game of pick-up sticks gone bad when daylight appeared. Meanwhile, noise carried so well on the sharp winter air that it sounded as if every tree and branch was falling in our own yard. The entire night was terrifying.

The next morning we arose in a chilly house, serenaded by our neighbor Richard's gas-powered chainsaw. The chainsaw buzzed away as he worked at cutting his truck from beneath a tangle of limbs. "Can't get out of my driveway!" Richard said with a laugh, when we stepped outside to survey the damage.

Our power was still out and we knew it could easily remain off for as long as a week, so we dressed in our warmest layers and donned our winter coats as the air in the house grew colder.

By late afternoon on Christmas Eve, the temperature in our home was down to 56 degrees. My nose was running like an open tap and I was exhausted from a sleepless night but couldn't lie down to nap, thanks to the fact that I had to keep moving to stay warm.

"Can we go to a hotel in Jackson?" I pleaded. "I feel awful; I need warmth. You don't want me to get sicker, do you?" Vicksburg was practically shut down by the storm, with power outages throughout town and into the outlying county neighborhoods.

David gave me a meaningful gaze. "I guess we could give it a try," he answered. "The roads are fine."

"How will we handle Christmas morning, though?"

He shrugged. "I'll take the Santa gifts and a few other small things."

I felt lousy enough that I packed only necessities and clothing, leaving the Santa duties to David. Suitcases were loaded into the car and we took off for Jackson, savoring the warmth of the car's heater. We ended up on the north side of town in a nice, inexpensive hotel with an indoor swimming pool.

After checking into the hotel, we realized we had no swim trunks for the children.

"Let's run to Target to see if they've got any," David said. Target was just miles down the road.

"They're not going to have swim trunks in December!" I told him. "And it's 5:30 on Christmas Eve. Even if they're open, they won't be for long."

"Well, we'd better hurry, then."

We dashed to the car and zipped over to Target as quickly as possible. Although we were only able to find swim trunks for our eldest child, we located some thick thermal boxer shorts that we thought would serve as an adequate substitute for our then-7-year-old,William.

Back at the hotel, the children had a blast swimming away the evening hours. Supper consisted of a rather pitiful blend of hastily-grabbed snack foods from Target and vending machine fare, but everyone was happy.

After several hours of swimming and warm baths all around, the children finally drifted off to sleep.

"Okay," David whispered. "I'll go get the stuff out of the car."

He dragged in a black trash bag containing gifts from Santa, stockings and their stuffings, and a few other small items.

"How do we do this?" I looked around. No tree, no chimney—only a plate-glass window. Santa was going to have to come up with a mighty creative plan.

David pondered for a moment and then settled on an upholstered recliner near the window. "We'll just put the gifts out like this," he said, arranging packages on the seat of the chair. "And put the stockings over the back." The end result was a bit weird, but we thought it would do.

In the morning, the children awoke to the unexpected collection of Christmas surprises. William looked stunned. "Santa didn't bring this stuff," he said. "You guys hid it in the car, didn't you? The real presents are at home, right?"

"No," I replied. "This is what Santa brought, plus a few things that Dad dragged along from home. Santa hacked his way through the glass because he knew you'd be sad if you had to miss out on Christmas morning."

Will scowled. "There's not a hole in the window."

"Of course not. He magically repaired it so we wouldn't freeze. Santa has magical powers, you know."

"But we're on the fifth floor."

Sigh. At the age of 7, William's youthful trust in the mythical Santa was permanently warped.

Back in Vicksburg the next day, our power was finally restored. Things were returning to normal as the house warmed up and everyone resumed their regular routines. The fact that our unorthodox Christmas ranked high among our favorite holiday experiences was confirmed, later that day, as we discussed our experience. The ice storm had been a nuisance, we agreed, but this Christmas was unusually fun. How often do you get to spend Christmas Eve paddling around in a warm swimming pool?

William piped in with a thought that summed it all up. Bouncing around the room as he spoke, he asked the unexpected question. "Can we do it again next year?"