I could map the power outages in my town by my friends’ Facebook posts.
During last week’s wind and rain event, at least two people wondered if everyone in our large town (officially a city) had lost power. Dozens replied, and most had the good sense to cite their locations so the rest of us could figure out what was happening.
I’ve been through a couple of other significant storms, but this was the first one I experienced at least partially through the lens of social media.
It was fascinating. And scary.
I’m a school librarian, and my district closed for the day, as did so many others. So I had time during the day to check my Facebook newsfeed. We never lost power at home, so I had Internet access all day.
The first posts were mainly about whether our town was going to call off school or not. We did not get “the call” until rather late (about 5:50 a.m.), so this speculation went on for a while.
I am up at 5:30 and spend about 15 minutes preparing breakfast for my four cats and two dogs. (One cat needs medication, which is why it takes that long.) Then I eat my bowl of cereal while checking my work e-mail, the local newspaper and Facebook. As I was scrolling through the posts of those wondering about the day ahead, the phone rang. In the course of the next hour, both our landline and my cell would each receive two automated calls from the school district telling me there was no school.
When the phone rang a fifth time, I said, though there was no one around, “Now who is that?”
It turned out to be a library staff member. She had left her home, about 15 miles away from her school, and wasn’t sure she was going to be able to make it in, given the fallen trees and power lines that were blocking the roads. I was so happy to be able to tell her she could turn around and go home.
Her power was out, and she had no cell phone service at home. I initially figured that’s why she didn’t get “the call.” But through Facebook, I learned that others had also been accidentally overlooked. Most were new staffers, and I figured the automated system hadn’t been updated yet. In my 25 years in the district, we’d never had a storm day this early.
One colleague reported, on Facebook, her experience driving in from a rural town perhaps 20 miles away. At one point, a line fell so close to her car she could feel the electricity in the air. After discovering there was no school, she headed back home via her usual route, only to find the road blocked. She changed course, only to find another road blocked. My colleague finally had to go well out of her way to find an open route. Luckily, she did get home safely.
A few years ago, my husband, Paul, and I did lose power for most of a day. It happened to be Christmas Eve, which was a disappointment. Instead of making tourtière, the traditional French-Canadian Christmas Eve meal, I had to resort to heating a can of soup on the woodstove. (I made up for this by making tourtière for New Year’s Eve.)
That was the first time I’d experienced a bad storm through social media. All of my contact with others had to be done through my cell phone. There was no way to recharge it in the house, so I had to resort to my car. This reminded me of the Ice Storm of 1998. The Internet was in its infancy then, and smart phones unheard of. But my car had the heat my house lacked. I could drive around with the dogs and enjoy a little warmth.
This time around, I was interested to see that a friend who lived in a hard-hit subdivision noted that she couldn’t decide if people were driving around because they were curious or because they were recharging their cell phones. Another possibility: they were staying warm.
Reading that others were in the dark was upsetting, especially since we never lost power. We did lose cable for most of the day, but I wasn’t going to whine about that. Some friends offered their extra bedrooms and showers for those in need. I would have liked to have done that, but with two dogs and four cats, we aren’t an ideal bed-and-breakfast.
I noticed, through pictures of storm damage, that deciduous trees cracked or toppled, while evergreens were uprooted. Some people narrowly escaped injury. Some were blocked in their homes.
One friend wondered if an east-west highway was open. I had just been on our police department’s Facebook page and was able to give her an answer.
I often complain about Facebook. It is a fount of narcissism and misrepresentation. Psychotherapists are noting that the “perfect life” many Facebook users present can cause depression in those with more realistic outlooks.
But in a time of trouble, when the winds were raging, I have to say Facebook provided an ideal forum. People found answers, help and support.
In the Ice Storm of 1998, I felt isolated. School was cancelled. Phone service was out. I didn’t even know that a close friend had power, and would have welcomed me into her home.
I do think Facebook can be a force for good, but will it be? It’s up to us, to steer away from selfies and turn outward to what is happening in our communities.
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