“No antenna. No radio. We’re back in the 19th
Century!” – Captain Billy Tyne,
The Perfect Storm
Today marks the 10th-anniversary of the Northeast blackout of 2003, a
moment in history that I shall never forget. I remember every last detail as if
it happened yesterday: I’d finished attending a job workshop at an employment agency over on Donlands, and was planning to take
the subway downtown later that afternoon to hang out at the Eaton Centre, but first I wanted to head
home to drop off my papers and work on an email to a girl I’d met at the employment agency and
hoped to possibly date. I’d just put the finishing touches on my email and was
about to click the “send” button when the power abruptly went out.
I didn’t think much of it at the time (aside from being a
little peeved over losing the aforementioned email to said girl I liked), until
I stepped outside and spoke with a crowd of neighbours gathered on the street
who mentioned that the power outage was citywide and all of the traffic lights,
streetcars, and subways were supposedly down. That revelation made me worried
for my grandma, as it was hot out and I’d heard that summer blackouts were
really bad for seniors. Since I couldn’t phone my grandma to check on her, I
decided to walk from our house in the Coxwell & Danforth
neighbourhood to her apartment building in Cabbagetown.
Along the way, I saw pedestrians of all walks of life
directing traffic across the Danforth, and spoke to various passers-by who mentioned that the blackout
was occurring across the province and even in some parts of the United States. I’d been told scary rumours
that terrorists had allegedly bombed a skyscraper in New York City, and hated being unable to
confirm anything that was going on around us. When I reached Broadview, I saw
the broken-down streetcars
I’d heard about earlier, sitting empty and abandoned, and cut through the
valley of Riverdale Park into
Cabbagetown. A few minutes later,
I stood in the entrance of my grandma’s building buzzing her apartment, and to
my relief, she was fine and with my uncle.
I had dinner with my grandma and uncle before beginning my
long evening trek home, finding a $10.00 bill along the cobblestone portion of
Carlton at the edge of Riverdale
Park. When I arrived back at the house ($10.00 richer than when I’d
departed), my parents were there waiting and furious with me for not leaving
them a note, as they didn’t know where the hell I was and had no way of
reaching me. Like the millions of other people affected by the blackout, they
had to walk home from their jobs downtown. We had to light candles throughout
the house like our ancestors before us, open the windows for cool air, and
avoid touching the fridge. We still had no way of confirming what was going on,
despite the rest of the world knowing what was happening to us.
As there was nothing we could really do aside from sit in
the dark and wait for the power to eventually be restored, we sat outside with
the neighbours and looked up into a beautiful night sky full of stars (probably
how Van Gogh saw it while painting),
courtesy of the complete lack of light pollution. The next day, we were
fortunate enough to have our power restored but had to use it sparingly. We saw
the online night shots of the Toronto
and New York City skylines
silhouetted in black, were relieved to learn that the blackout wasn’t the
result of terrorists, and got to let our relatives in Venezuela know we were
okay. Before that blackout dimmed the lights of Toronto, I never gave much thought to random power failures, but now
I get nervous whenever they occur.
In closing, the blackout taught me two very important
lessons: 1.) Like the characters in WALL-E, we humans rely too heavily on
technology these days, and are pretty well screwed should that heavy basket of
eggs ever drop. Folks in the Victorian
era knew how to function without electricity, and we should learn how to
do so as well for our own benefit. 2.) Electricity should always be conserved
and any lights or gadgets not in use should be switched off (if you don’t need
the power, make it an Earth Hour).
Instead of maxing out the air conditioning at home, consider
cooling off at a shopping mall, movie theatre, your local swimming pool, or the
beach. After all, those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it,
and I certainly never want a repeat of August 14th, 2003.
Lights Out.
