When I was 11, my parents moved our family from a small apartment in the Bronx to a 200-year-old farm about 70 miles from New York City. There, we experienced our first power outages. We mostly heated with wood, so freezing wasn’t a problem, but we had an old well and no access to water without electricity for the pump. Within a short span of time, we learned to anticipate the occasional power outage by filling up the bathtub, as well as every large pot, in advance of major storms.
By all accounts, major storms have only increased since my childhood, and our power grid remains as vulnerable as ever. But for the last two decades, my family and I have lived in a neighborhood close to downtown Brunswick. We’re on town water and have a stove powered by natural gas in the living room and a gas range in the kitchen, which feels absolutely luxurious during an outage. We can cook, flush, and stay relatively warm without much effort.
This is not the case, however, for many of our friends and neighbors, especially those who lack backup heat or generators.
Needless to say, warming centers have become essential to many during winter power outages as numerous people’s living situations become stressful, if not outright tenuous. And our community libraries have risen to the occasion whenever possible. During an outage in early February, for example, the Cundy’s Harbor Library, the Orr’s Island Library, and Curtis Memorial Library in Brunswick were all open, providing comfortable places to get warm and use Wi-Fi.
In my relatively luxurious, close-to-downtown location with running water and a gas stove, I’d learn of these community supports and nod approvingly. But then our power would be restored within a day, as is typically the case in my neighborhood, and I’d not think about them much again.
If you were living in our area last winter, you likely know where I’m going with this: A massive storm in early spring knocked out power in Brunswick and Harpswell for longer than usual. Uncharacteristically, our street did not have electricity for three days. This meant that by the second day, we no longer had charges on our phones and laptops, devices that have become essential to contemporary functioning.
On the afternoon of Day 2, my college student son and I loaded two backpacks with all of our devices, our rechargeable lanterns, and portable power chargers. Then we trudged off to Curtis Memorial Library, where we were able to reserve a study room for an hour. There, with the aid of a power strip, we plugged in everything and felt very smug about our problem-solving skills.
But that day, the library was full of people like ourselves: Every study room was full, as was every chair and table. The library staff devoted themselves to making carafe after carafe of coffee, and the children’s area was packed with kids. Everyone congratulated themselves on making their way to the library, which was safe, warm, and, despite it all, festive.
In anticipation of the storm season ahead, Curtis has just added two LuminAID solar lights and chargers, and two BioLite solar panels, to the Library of Things for borrowing. To help with emergency preparedness, we’re also piloting a program to make 10 of each of these small solar chargers available for Curtis Library cardholders to borrow after a storm. They can be used to recharge phones, headlamps, tablets and other small devices, and will be available for borrowing at Curtis and on the bookmobile following a power outage. This pilot project is made possible with funding from Cornerstones of Science.
“Library Connections” is a monthly column that rotates among the three libraries that serve Harpswell: Cundy’s Harbor, Orr’s Island, and Curtis Memorial.
