It Simply Can't Happen Here
The little town we live in is kind of an imaginary place in the sense that nothing bad ever happens here.Nothing bad is even allowed to happen here.
Last Thursday, while Eli 15.11 and I were in Austin, a big storm blew through Grand Rapids, with 90+ MPH gusts in some places.
Trees fell down, as they do up here, because we have lots of them.
This time, lots of trees. And power lines. Over 120,000 people in the Grand Rapids metropolitan area were without power.
It's a mess. But not here.
Here, within thirty-six hours, everyone had their downed trees neatly cut up and stacked on the curb, waiting for pickup. Power was restored within twenty-four hours, while other spots still don't have their power back after seventy-two.
Once the brush truck comes by on Monday, all traces of the storm will be gone.
I was driving to the tennis courts with Eli today around noon, and we were marveling. "It's really pretty incredible," he said.
"A nuclear weapon could be dropped on this town Saturday night and it would be totally cleaned up by Wednesday," I said.
We have a neighbor named Bill. Pretty old guy, still very vital. After the bomb dropped, he'd be out in the front yard the next day, wearing a Hazmat suit while he dug up irradiated dirt.
He'd look up and wave when he saw us.
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