HONEST ABE MEETS MR. STINKY POO

Last month a wicked ice storm devastated many sections of northern New England. Parts of New Hampshire were without electricity for almost two weeks. It reminded me of a pretty nasty ice storm we had here in Litchfield County a number of years ago. I’m not sure what the actual number is. It might have been four years ago; it might’ve been 27. The older I get, the less I’m able to gauge how long ago things occurred. And don’t ask me what I had for breakfast this morning, as I’ll draw a complete blank. (But I can instantly tell you what Carl Yastrzemski did in 1967: a .326 batting average, 44 home runs, and 121 RBIs.)

Anyway, the ice storm we experienced sometime in the past (as opposed, I guess, to the one we experienced sometime in the future) caused our home to be without electricity for two days. Other parts of the region were without power for a week. Because we have a well at our house with an electric pump, I discovered that no power means no running water. And no running water means no showers. That minor ordeal with the ice storm caused me to develop a dread about a situation I call The Abe Lincoln Winter.

A number of years ago (actual number: 39) I remember learning in school about Abraham Lincoln’s childhood, when he was raised in a log cabin in Kentucky a number of years ago (actual number: 193). The teacher taught us that back in those days, once the cold weather set in, people didn’t bathe again until Spring. As a sixth grader, that didn’t strike me as unusual, since in my opinion, going swimming during July and August kept me more than clean enough throughout the rest of the year. Thankfully, my mother did not share my opinion and periodically forced me to bathe.

However, when I became an adult a number of years ago (actual number, physically: 33; actual number, emotionally: yet to be determined), I realized that bathing on a daily basis is a pretty good thing, “pretty good thing” being defined as not having family members and co-workers refer to you as “Mr. Stinky Poo.”

Those unfortunate folks in New Hampshire had to experience The Abe Lincoln Winter for two full weeks. All I can say is, Eww! They must have really stunk up the joint. So can you imagine what Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln’s log cabin must have smelled like in about late March, well into their fifth month without bathing? I’m guessing it reeked almost as badly as the fraternity house I lived in a number of years ago (actual number: no clue, as I don’t remember much about those years other than waking up on Sunday mornings with my faced welded to the tile floor in a glaze of dried beer).

My fear of having to experience The Abe Lincoln Winter, even for a day, prompted me to purchase an electric generator and hire an electrician to install it. So now, even if a nasty ice storm knocks out the power, there’s no reason I should ever become slimy and smelly. Also, it helps that I quit drinking a number of years ago (exact number: 24, as of this past Dec. 31st, but who’s counting?).

During a power outage, my neighbors are welcomed to stop by and use the shower. (Please bring your own towels.) After all, even during a crisis, no one wants to be known by the name Honest Abe’s political opponents called him during the bitter election campaign of 1864: President Stinky Poo.