During the long dark nights I experienced following the Wilma nightmare, I had frequent flashbacks to those pre-Edison days my father used to recall so vividly. I remember questioning him about the event that he considered the most significant of his lifetime..the one he felt caused the greatest change in his lifestyle. I recall vividly his declaration that it was the introduction of the light switch…the miracle that occurred when he first experienced the light of day indoors, while outside his window it was still hours before sun-up. This, more than television, which was the defining event in my lifetime, was his era’s major landmark.

I too experienced a similar revelation when, after a week of enforced candle-lit reading, I was startled by the house suddenly blossoming into bright light in every room when the condo was finally reconnected to the regional power grid after the Wilma shut down.

Ours was one of the last of Century Village’s condo communities to regain light. Our condo had suffered little of the physical damage which tore roofs and screens off many of our neighbor’s units. Still, as I cowered, while hurricane winds uprooted nearby trees and shrubs, and tore up roofs and patio screens, I was alert enough to recognize that I was experiencing one of the natural phenomena my 87 years of living and extensive world-wide traveling had so far escaped…and I "enjoyed" the experience!

During the brief respite, while the hurricane’s eye provided a lull in the tearing windshear, I waited for the winds to resume. When they recovered their energy, I was aware that their direction had reversed to confirm that the hurricane’s eye had passed. Then the terrifying wind energy returned until the storm headed out to sea.

The following days and interminable nights convinced us that we would better survive the aftermath by a return to Connecticut until normal life could resume. I was lucky enough to snatch a $59 flight to New York and eagerly grabbed this bargain.

Dumping hundreds of dollars worth of spoiled food into the dumpsters, surviving the hours of gas line delays, thanking the volunteers who handed out the precious bags of ice and hot meals provided by the Salvation army and Red Cross , reminded me often, in those days of scrounging for these amenities, how critical these agencies were to those in such circumstances. Yes, I even wrote out a "thank you check" as I wondered how many others were similarly inspired.

I was one of those who were stranded without even a live telephone, since I had succumbed to the lure of the modern age by discontinuing my land line service in favor of my cell phone and computer-age "Vonage" telephone device. I learned to regret these economies, little realizing how dependent they were on the availability of electrical service recharging stations, just as I missed the use of washing machines as our laundry piled up and our drawers emptied of fresh towels and clean clothing changes. Amazing how much we take for granted in these modern times, and how poorly equipped we are to cope with the unexpected!

My exhausted store of batteries sent me on a discovery tour of the area and I found I was not alone since most stores had depleted shelves of these necessities. But I was bemused by the fact that Radio Shack charged me over $12 for a lantern battery, while I was able to buy both the battery and a new lantern at K-mart for less than half the price!

It would be ungrateful to fail to recognize the role that Publix played in our survival struggle. Our community is served by three of these super stores. Those without power strove manfully to meet the needs of their neighbors, while those few with power resisted the urge to profiteer and doled out ice and scarce hot foods at uninflated prices.

And, while giving thanks to those who aided the wheelchair-bound and stranded homebodies, a special thanks is due the numerous volunteers who served the lines of the needy residents who lined up patiently to get the help that came our way. The advent of resumed electrical service is a boon we now appreciate more heartily as the event fades into history and we return north for a short respite. There, we’ll regale our neighbors there with a blow by blow description of what they missed. Still, with winter ahead, we may find that the coming months will bring us comfort, while they take their turns at coping with nature’s capricious turns.

An Essay by Rebecca Schlam Lutto

Coffeehouses are everywhere now.

They serve coffee, of course, but in their new incarnation they are cyber cafés, where computers and their ilk are more numerous than cappucino makers.

The word coffeehouse used to evoke in my imagination a warm and cozy room in late 18th-century London where Dr. Johnson held court — (Samuel Johnson, 1709 - 1784, dictionary maker, scholar, writer and raconteur). I picture him in his shoulder-length powdered wig and fancy waistcoat, holding forth eloquently, enjoying the conversation more than the coffee. Nearby sat his "Boswell," James Boswell, taking notes for a biography. And that is why the Western world is enriched by Dr. Johnson’s conversational wit and wisdom.

A decade ago the Internet cafés began as places with computers that patrons could use while sipping coffee or eating a light meal. Since our electronic gadgets have been miniaturized, the patrons bring their own. From their backpacks or attaché cases or handbags they haul out their equipment as they sit down.

As they sip and work — novels are written, customers contacted; math homework solved, etc. — the coffeehouse provides the caffeine-induced mental stimulation and a rent-free office.

The newest lure of the modern coffeehouse is an electrical jolt. Not for the customers but for their cellphones, laptops, iPods, portable DVD players, digital cameras, camcorders and portable gaming devices. The cafés can afford to offer free electrical current to customers whose batteries have died. With latte at $4 a cup, why not?

Caffeine became the world’s most popular psychoactive drug as an industrial society demanded a schedule other than farmers’ seasons. The wake-up call it provides is even more essential in our cybernetic universe.

Back to 1774 or so, as our founding fathers were cooking up a revolution, London was becoming enchanted with the new beverage that packed a bigger buzz than tea. Perhaps the coffeehouse crowds took notice of what King George III and Parliament were doing about the naughty colonies across the Atlantic. However, the best of their conversations comes to us from Dr. Johnson, through Boswell’s biography. Here are some of my favorites:

— This was a good dinner enough, but it was not a dinner to ask a man to.

— A decent provision for the poor is the true test of civilization.

— It is better to live rich, than to die rich

— If a man does not make new acquaintances as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, sir, should keep his friendship in a constant repair.

In Johnson’s famous dictionary here is one definition: ESSAY - A loose sally of the mind; an irregular undigested piece; not a regular or orderly composition. To that I say: Amen.

Old adages are not always like old wives' tales. Sometime they happen to be true. In 1968 I realized a life-long dream. I bought a boat. It was not as big as an aircraft carrier because I had to pay for it myself, whereas the public pays for all aircraft carriers.

The day my boat was delivered to a dock in Nyack, N.Y. on the Hudson River was one happy day for me. As befits the owner of a boat, I purchased a fancy captain's cap and was ready to travel. It had a one hundred horsepower outboard motor and could pull two water skiers at about thirty miles per hour. After traveling about a quarter mile, I was stopped by the coast guard and given a summons because I didn't have a life preserver for every passenger. I immediately became a little less happy. My happiness was further diminished when they informed me that I would have to attend Coast Guard School for a month. Among other things, I would have to learn how to read water maps. I never even learned how to read a road map. I asked them why I would have to read a water map on the Hudson River. It runs north and south and one would have to be pretty dumb to get lost. They then gave me another summons for 'being a Bronx Wise Guy'.

I had some beer on board. Drinking the beer with the boat rocking, I stopped at a service station and asked if I could use the lavatory. The answer was "No. We don't have one". I realized I would have to buy some gas, but my tank was already full. Another patron advised me to buy four five- gallon gas cans and fill one of them with gas. As soon as I did this, the man in charge told me a lavatory had mysteriously appeared. The three empty cans were kept for future stops. Lesson one - Never buy a boat without a toilet!

After a few more hours on the water, I went back to my dock in Nyack and tied up my boat. I was advised to swing the engine to a horizontal position when not using the boat because the water in the Hudson is salty, which could cause corrosion if left in a vertical position. This was a big engine, but since I had six people on board, this procedure was handled with ease.

Several days later, I went out by myself and had to struggle to lift the engine. I was sure I would have a hernia within a week, so I called my doctor and asked him how much would it cost to repair a hernia (This was before I was eligible for Medicare and when doctors took the time to speak to their patients). I then called my boatman and asked him how much would it cost to install an electric motor to lift the engine out of the water. Installing a motor was much cheaper then repairing a hernia, so I opted for the electric lifter.

However, drinking beer on a rocking boat was not as enjoyable as anticipated. It necessitated frequent visits to a lavatory, and looking for the next rest stop so often proved to be more troublesome than it was worth. Besides that, my son went off to college shortly after, my daughter was too busy avoiding boyfriends whom she knew would not measure up to her father's expectations and my wife does not like boats. It occurred to me that it was+ not a lot of fun speeding up and down the Hudson alone, especially since I was also considered public enemy number one to the coast guard for exceeding the speed limit.

So one day I just decided I had had enough, and sold the boat -- lock, stock and barrel - captain's hat, extra gas cans, extra life preservers, water maps and all other naval paraphernalia. That is when I realized what a friend had once told me was true: "The two happiest days in a boat owner's life is the day he buys the boat and the day he sells it".

Morris Greenfield relates actual, common life experiences, in an exaggerated, comedic style. Email him at babsykay@adelphia.net 

With working parents many days, I was a substitute father -- not a baby sitter -- exercising the human "get even gene" for tight jockey diapers, warm milk and prison-mushy vegetables, the young schedule, the best performances during parents workday, and now I saw the firsts, denied me as a father, for the first time -- the crawl, the step, the toilet pee, crib escape, the glass drink, high chair graduation and bike ride without training wheels.

Lifetime of motivating and educating never brought the satisfaction I had when, after a week of instruction, he only pedaled clockwise. That experience made me think bikes where 2 could ride side by side, but separately, could bridge a 60 year gap. At a garage sale for $10 I bought 2 bikes -- mine for his house where his father's bike with high seat and low handlebars was not for seniors, and his when he visited our home. On my visits, first after naps and later after school, we took out the bikes, dusted them, checked them for safety and rode side by side through his neighborhood.

Wife lecture 2000 ..."don't lecture" didn't cover harmless curiosity . "Why are you walking your bike past the dog house?" "If Buster comes out barking I won't fall off trying to get away." Another day ... "Why are you riding, not walking, past the sprinkle house"? "I'm not allowed to ride in the street and by riding fast I don't get too wet."

When do we mess up education so man stops finding simple solutions to his problems? At our house we painted, tightened bolts and pumped up the tires on the garage sale bike.

Wife lecture 2001 ... "If that piece of junk falls apart..." why women don't understand that pliers screwdrivers and paint brushes cement male relationships when they blatantly use shopping mall expeditions to bring gals closer, I will never know.

Every day of his summer visit we rode, he on the sidewalk and me in the street to the coffee shop. The guys asked him the usual questions -- who is your favorite team, Yankees or Mets -- what grade are you in, and -- where did you get the bike? (grandpa and I made it.) Sure, flaunting him every day for 2 weeks was unfair, but so was their better backhands, bigger pools and greener lawns. I had a Jersey grandson and theirs were in Maine, Indiana, and California.

Genetics or father imagery made us a tennis and baseball family. The sports have similar techniques and the methods passed down from generation to generation. I now gave to him -- eye on the ball -- sideways to the net or pitcher -- follow through, and a dozen others. We practiced baseball in the back yards and tennis with a "new" racquet on nearby courts. Tennis was not like pedaling clockwise -- it took a long time ... almost till 12. Then one day he ran me side to side, punished me at the net, and won 6-2. I should have seen the end.

Little league began that spring. On the second week, I was the designated driver. He bolted out of the house when I pulled into the driveway, in a uniform not tailored made. On his second time at bat he got a hit and when he returned to the bench he got high fives from his appreciative teammates. In the 6th, at the families' traditional left field position, he dropped a fly ball. At the bench, the manager saw the coming tears and gave words of encouragement and brief instruction on where to hold the glove.

I was a spectator.

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