Before getting to today’s discussion of the power of coffee during power outages, I invite you to enjoy this prose entitled “Haiku,” written by Rebecca d’Angelo.

I have seven grandchildren.

I won’t see 70 again.

I am single.

In midsummer, a friend introduced me to an attractive grandpa. We liked each other and enjoyed several dinners together. When he mentioned he’d been seeing another woman for quite a while, I said, ‘No triangles for me!’

He told me they were having disagreements; after a long-planned trip in September, he might be free to call me. I didn’t hold my breath.

In fact, the month hadn’t passed before I realized I might be a little old for all this:

I couldn’t remember his last name.

If you do not find that humorous, I would expect that you have no back issues of AARP in your basement.

Speaking of basements, things sure bottomed out last Wednesday during the power outage that left 150,000 folks in 8 counties without electricity.

Not unlike many of you, I begin my day trying to get warm, take care of a few personal habits and thirdly, acquire my morning cup of coffee.

As we all know, the morning routine for each of us is not necessarily cast in stone, but may be approaching the traditions of the Catholic church in repetition of visits to the altar of caffeine.

Depending upon the time of my rising, and I don’t mean Aquarius, I’ll shoot over to Freeland in the dark for a shot in the dark at 1504 Coffee or For Locals Only or Southern Cross Too if it is 6 a.m.

After 7 a.m., you might find me at the Lighthouse or Texaco.

After 8 a.m., that splendid speed bump drive to Mukilteo Coffee is well worth the journey.

After 9 a.m., a plethora of possibilities is presented to me as the sounds of growling stomachs hit the air.

Neil’s, Gerry’s and the Freeland Café hit the trifecta of local color and conversation with your coffee.

Wednesday morning about 7 a.m., pickins’ were slim but mighty in the coffee lines of Freeland.

Only For Locals Only and Texaco were up and generating.

Maneuvering my 1986, or is it ’87, Chevy S-10 pickup through the dark, empty streets of Freeland reminded me of the many Christmases I have spent here.

Quiet, surrounded by quiet.

Like power outages.

What do we notice most when the power goes out?

What do we notice first?

Are we going to be warm? If we lived in a Medallion Home, all electric, might we violate the burn ban and have at it with an un-permitted stack of alder and fir branches?

What about flushing, and I don’t mean New York?

My four gallons of distilled water are always at the ready in case the power is out.

But, the coffee, the coffee.

While being served an extremely hot and wonderful cup of coffee, generated with loving ohms and amperes, I thanked the young barista at For Locals Only, remarking that the joy I felt holding this cup of coffee might be likened to that of a nomad discovering a cool cup of water in the low desert.

Then I heard the voice of Mark Myres. Even from the dimly lit foyer I could see Mark’s proud and smiling face from across the room.

Mark not only owns the building, he

built it.

With an emergency generator hookup.

Best line overheard was a fellow from Texas firmly informing the caller on the other end of his cell phone that he would “not be doing anything until I get my coffee.”

Cindy and Jen at Texaco’s Short Stop told me that Wednesday’s power outage generated more coffee and gasoline sales than ever.

“We had at least a hundred phone calls the first hour with the same question, ‘Do you have coffee?’ The second hour the question was, ‘Do you have gas?’ People were driving here from Oak Harbor!”

In the ‘70s, I used to drive 400 miles just to see Judy Collins sing. What’s a little day trip from Oak Harbor?

In the Marine Corps, I had the pleasure of making coffee for all the enlisted and officers in our headquarters battalion office. I sold monthly subscriptions; $10 for all the coffee you could drink in a month. With over a hundred subscribers, I made enough money to buy a brand new Volvo and all the Judy Collins albums I wanted.

I learned early on from Lance Cpl. O’Malley (who sold me his veteran coffee business when he completed his enlistment) that if the coffee was not ready by 5 o’clock each and every weekday morning, I would be given a blanket party by a squad of angry squids.

Believe me, a squid blanket party is much worse than a power outage.

Thanks to the many of you with generators who kept our ship afloat during last Wednesday’s storm. You saved many of us from mutiny.

We had no problem waiting in that enthusiastic long line at Texaco for our 59-cent, 12-ounce cup of hot coffee.

Can you imagine what it could have cost during a power outage in downtown Manhattan?

Bring on Thanksgiving.

We feel the power.

The coffee’s ready and so are we!