Jamie Harrison had fantasized about life in the 19th century - the family gathered around the fire, laughing warmly and sharing a hearty meal. So when the history buff awoke to find the snow had knocked out power in his Glen Burnie home, he welcomed the chance to teach his children, 12 and 16, about a simpler time.
But after nearly two days of carrying wood, tending a fire and heating soup over an open flame, Harrison realized life before electricity wasn't quite as romantic as he had imagined.
"You don't see specials on the History Channel called 'Woman Makes Dinner,' but daily tasks were a major operation," said Harrison, who works in information technology for the University of Maryland, Baltimore County. "No wonder people died so young."
The family's adventure began early Saturday when Harrison's wife, Laurie, awakened to find the bedroom oddly dark. The numbers on the electric clock weren't lit. And no light flooded in the windows from street lamps. A fallen tree up the road had downed power lines.
The couple stumbled to the living room to build a fire in the hearth. But a larger problem loomed - coffee. Laurie Harrison, the manager of a large podiatry practice, is a bit of a caffeine fiend, and a morning without a mug of joe makes her very unhappy.
But Jamie Harrison, a former history teacher, thought he had learned a thing or two about hearths while shepherding high school students on tours of historic homes. He was determined to make coffee the old-fashioned way.
It was, in words guaranteed to strike fear in the hearts of wives and girlfriends, "a guy challenge," he said.
Harrison dug through the 2 feet of snow to find bricks in the backyard and stacked them in the fireplace. Then he rested an oven rack on the bricks and set a pot of water on it to boil. A few minutes later, beaming with pride, he removed the pot full of bubbling water - and full of ashes.
"That was one of the first lessons we learned," said Harrison. "If you're boiling water in an open fire, you need to use a lid."
The Harrisons were far from alone in their unintentional trip back in time this week. About 97,000 customers lost service during the first storm on Feb. 5, and there were about 40,000 service interruptions during the second storm that started Tuesday, according to Baltimore Gas and Electric Co. spokeswoman Linda Foy.
The Harrisons lugged a couple of coolers into the snow and packed them with eggs, biscuit dough and other goodies from the refrigerator.
Meanwhile, there was plenty of pioneer-style manual labor to keep Jamie Harrison and his 16-year-old son, Zachary, busy. The pair dug a path for the dogs, cleared the sidewalk and excavated a family car from a snowbank. They carted in firewood and stacked it by the fireplace to dry.
By then it was time for lunch - canned soup heated in the same pot in the fireplace, with a lid this time. As Jamie Harrison dug into a bowl of clam chowder, he promoted the wonders of cooking over an open flame. The soup warmed in just a couple of minutes, "as fast as the microwave," he said.
But the children were far from fascinated. "I was like, 'Oh my gosh, you've got to be crazy,' " said Sarah, 12, who wrapped herself up in an old fur coat. "History is not my thing."
Deprived of Internet, video games and TV, the girl resorted to furtively playing games on her mother's phone, until it was confiscated to preserve the battery.
Zachary seemed considerably more even-tempered, or perhaps he was in a shoveling-induced stupor. An older son, visiting a college friend in Pennsylvania, sent occasional taunting texts back home.
As evening approached, Harrison made a decidedly un-Victorian decision to hop in the car and head to the grocery store and Wendy's. He also dropped Sarah off at her grandmother's house nearby rather than having to spend the night with two sparring kids.
The remaining Harrisons huddled in blankets around the fire and halfheartedly shook a pan of Jiffy Pop over the flame. Exhausted, sore and weary of sitting in the dark, they fell asleep around 10 p.m.
About 45 minutes later, Jamie Harrison was awakened by a blast of cold air. The fire had nearly fizzled out from lack of attention. It wasn't just the comfort of the family at stake, but also Laurie Harrison's prized tropical fish collection. And so, throughout the long night, Jamie Harrison periodically got up to rake and feed the fire.
Sunday morning, he awoke to see the dog's breath in the frigid living room. Jamie Harrison realized why the rooms of those historic houses he used to tour were so small - to concentrate the heat.
As the day wore on, the situation slowly improved. Sarah came home from Grandma's, well-fed and cheered. The fish, though sluggish, survived. Workers from BGE removed the fallen tree.
And then, around 7:30 p.m., as the family was planning another evening hunkered down by the fire, something just short of a miracle happened - the lights blinked back on.
It made for a memorable weekend, said Laurie Harrison, but she's glad that the experiment in pioneer living has come to an end. "There was no knitting or playing games," she said. "We were just cold and grouchy. Next time, we're going to a hotel."
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