My dad worked for the Edison Company in Chicago for more than 40 years. He was in charge of safety for the company. When a guy climbed a poll to restore electricity, my dad was the one who made sure he was trained and knowledgeable in the work he was doing so that he didn’t electrocute himself. Early in his career, he had to make a house call to a young wife to deliver the news that her husband had died on the job, and that’s the kind of thing that stays with you always.
We have wicked storms here in Kansas. Everything you have ever read about them is true, and because of that, it’s not unusual to lose our electricity. One time it was out for seven days, another time five. We’ve always toughed it out and managed to get along, but when those power trucks start rumbling into the neighborhood, you want to kiss the ground they roll in on.
Because of a lifetime of my dad’s stories, I’ve never taken them for granted or the people behind the scenes who worry about them until they return to the station. They are old-fashioned cowboys in these modern times we live in, working long and hard doing dangerous work storm after storm. And, yes, they do save the day.
