Saturday
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3/10/05
Family By Firelight
It was in early nineteenth century Nottingham that a mythical textile worker by the name of Ned Ludd was busy plying his trade and was also, I'm sure he would have you believe, generally minding his own business. By 1811 though, self proclaimed Luddites had decided that the voracious socio-economic steamroller of change that was the industrial revolution had gone far enough and was clearly destroying their way of life through rising unemployment and falling wages. So it was in that year that they rose up in protest and, depending on which political stripe you are, either heroically or criminally began smashing the mechanical looms that symbolized the ascension of profit driven kleptocracy over the rights and needs of the common man.
The local authorities, if you can believe it, didn't take very kindly to this sort of bad behavior and came to the rescue of the beleaguered and defenseless industrial plutocrats who owned said looms and hanged 17 of Ned's closest friends for their efforts in 1813. If nothing else, this did ensure them historical notoriety as proto-hippies fighting the insatiable beast that is progress.
After the lights went out our boys shrieked. I swore an oath. My Lovely Bride, as best I can tell, remained as placid as ever. Despite everyone's varied reactions though, we came together as a team in surprisingly fine form: My Lovely Bride filled the house with candles, I finished cooking dinner on the grill, the boys chased each other through the house with flashlights like maniacs, and a few well placed logs in the fireplace warmed our now furnace-less home.
By 8:30 we were all snuggled up around the fire as an unfamiliar sort of peace began to settle over us. Our oldest lad was reading one of the innumerable Lemony Snicket books as my Lovely Bride read one of the innumerable Magic Tree House books to our youngest. I did my part as well; I sat quietly in the big blue chair in which no one ever sits and gazed into the fire.
It wasn't long before that sense of peace came precariously close to resembling tranquility. There were no episodes of Queer Eye to Tivo, there was no last email of the day to check, and there was no stereo droning on in the background as it usually does to provide the soundtrack of our lives. Indeed, it had taken only a few hours for all the noise and chatter and busy nonsense of our electronically over-stimulated lives to melt away.
That night we spent just reading and talking quietly by the fire actually struck me as reminiscent of a scene out of any Regency era novel; it was not unlike spending an evening with a few of Jane Austen's favorite characters. Except without all the romance, intrigue and witty banter. You get the idea.
But still, all it took was just that one quiet night to remind me that it's far too easy for us to lose each other in the tsunami of noise and distraction that fills our lives.
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3/10/05
Family By Firelight
It was in early nineteenth century Nottingham that a mythical textile worker by the name of Ned Ludd was busy plying his trade and was also, I'm sure he would have you believe, generally minding his own business. By 1811 though, self proclaimed Luddites had decided that the voracious socio-economic steamroller of change that was the industrial revolution had gone far enough and was clearly destroying their way of life through rising unemployment and falling wages. So it was in that year that they rose up in protest and, depending on which political stripe you are, either heroically or criminally began smashing the mechanical looms that symbolized the ascension of profit driven kleptocracy over the rights and needs of the common man.
The local authorities, if you can believe it, didn't take very kindly to this sort of bad behavior and came to the rescue of the beleaguered and defenseless industrial plutocrats who owned said looms and hanged 17 of Ned's closest friends for their efforts in 1813. If nothing else, this did ensure them historical notoriety as proto-hippies fighting the insatiable beast that is progress.
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And so it was that a mere 193 years later our power went out, leaving us in the dark. More specifically, the northeast had a wild and wintry day this last Tuesday, and at roughly 6:45 pm a tree took down some power lines and our little corner of Rockland County was unceremoniously plunged into the nineteenth century.After the lights went out our boys shrieked. I swore an oath. My Lovely Bride, as best I can tell, remained as placid as ever. Despite everyone's varied reactions though, we came together as a team in surprisingly fine form: My Lovely Bride filled the house with candles, I finished cooking dinner on the grill, the boys chased each other through the house with flashlights like maniacs, and a few well placed logs in the fireplace warmed our now furnace-less home.
By 8:30 we were all snuggled up around the fire as an unfamiliar sort of peace began to settle over us. Our oldest lad was reading one of the innumerable Lemony Snicket books as my Lovely Bride read one of the innumerable Magic Tree House books to our youngest. I did my part as well; I sat quietly in the big blue chair in which no one ever sits and gazed into the fire.
It wasn't long before that sense of peace came precariously close to resembling tranquility. There were no episodes of Queer Eye to Tivo, there was no last email of the day to check, and there was no stereo droning on in the background as it usually does to provide the soundtrack of our lives. Indeed, it had taken only a few hours for all the noise and chatter and busy nonsense of our electronically over-stimulated lives to melt away.
That night we spent just reading and talking quietly by the fire actually struck me as reminiscent of a scene out of any Regency era novel; it was not unlike spending an evening with a few of Jane Austen's favorite characters. Except without all the romance, intrigue and witty banter. You get the idea.
~~~
Anyway, I'm certainly no Luddite as I like my Xbox and TV just fine. Neither do I have any intention of giving up my comfortable and reasonably priced boxer shorts that were made with big, bad machines.But still, all it took was just that one quiet night to remind me that it's far too easy for us to lose each other in the tsunami of noise and distraction that fills our lives.
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