When the snow finally stopped, we had what

When the snow finally stopped, we had what must have been almost four feet accumulated up against the door of the house. We had plenty in the pantry, but the can opener was

electric and, therefore, not usable since we had no power. How to puncture a can? How to heat the contents? How to bring in the firewood? What to do without WiFi? Could we exist?

Of course we could. Our ancestors survived on the plains and prairies and, by gum, so would we. So without power we went back to the basics. Pencil & paper for communication and

dinner by candlelight and washing on the scrub board. We went back to what matters: love and family and doing things with our hands. It was different, frustrating, but also freeing

the plumbing works in those 1950s era After War boom houses. Were they outfitted with ethernet still? Or did maybe just dial-up? Going back to our roots was starting to sound iffy.

We took a deep breath and powered down. We began to settle in to the quiet and exchanged blank stares. Without phone, TV, or internet, there was nothing to say.

The hall clock chimed three. "So.... did we have soup for lunch yesterday?" Tick... tick... The clock chimes four. "No, that was Saturday." Tick...

tick.. "Grampa! Granma! Omg are they still alive?! Cousin Dick, help me saw through these cobwebs. Holy sh* t, is a pulse of 6 normal?" Grampa came to life: "I'm positive the soup

would have been better if we'd left out those dead flies." "I was a spider back in the eighties," Grandma croaked, "that's why I named Dick's sister Charlotte."