I feel like Bob Cratchit, toiling not in the pinched shop of Ebenezer Scrooge, but in a La Cañada home which is — four days before Christmas — once again without power.
Like many of my neighbors, I was plunged into the abyss by the horrific winds of three weeks ago, and was without electricity for six days. I grew up in Chicago, and, like Bob Cratchit, am accustomed to bone-numbing cold. But my dear wife, her mother and the caregiver who share our home have not been subjected to Lake Michigan winters and deserve better — particularly my mother-in-law, who is 101 years old and who, because of her dementia, does not understand why her hospital bed can no longer shift positions, nor why she must be cocooned in layers of down like Admiral Peary.
We sat for days in our stocking caps, scarves and layers of winter clothing, huddled in our home like the Cratchit family, hoping that Mr. Scrooge, a.k.a. Southern California Edison, might favor us with a bit of light and heat.