I’m not sure if it’s reached national headlines, but this afternoon a severe storm front swept through the Midwest, took at least five lives in Illinois, and destroyed numerous structures between here and there, according to the most recent Indianapolis Star update as of this writing. (See this link for footage from Lebanon — a town halfway between our house and my son’s apartment — of a tornado that swept through the area. Among other damages, it later flipped a semi and took out a Starbucks.) Our prayers are with those currently in the midst of unthinkable tragedy as a result of the day’s upheaval.

We Hoosiers are no strangers to destructive weather. Our TV meteorologists panic more often than most of us do. It’s absolutely horrifying whenever worst-case scenarios do occur. We’ve been coached all our lives on what to do in that event; more often than not, though, all we suffer is unusual inconvenience — a broken shingle here, a leveled bush there, some broken siding on rare occasion.

Tonight, those treacherous storms ruined our dinner.

My wife’s original plan was hearty steaks and fresh Italian bread. As the timing worked out, she was warming up the skillet and oven when our electricity flickered out and brought all kitchen production to a halt. Oddly, this occurred several minutes after the torrents had eased up and stopped sounding like rooftop war drums.

Power outages aren’t a rarity ’round these parts, either. We waited a few minutes to see if it rectified itself, as most outages do. No such luck. I called the utility company to confirm that yes, the phone lines to report power outages were solidly jammed with too many callers. Thankfully my phone was fully charged and gave me the option to report our outage online. Once that was accomplished, then the site required me to create an online account if I wanted additional updates. Seven hours later, I’m still waiting for their promised automatic email with the required link for me to click, confirm, and access said updates. Fun waste of minutes and phone battery.

We had no way of knowing how long we would be waiting. Indianapolis Power & Light have generally handled such matters with diligence and speed in the past, but I’ve seen cases in the news of repairs in extreme situations sometimes requiring an overnight wait. Together my wife and I reviewed our household status:

* No damage to our house. Some of our Saturday raking was in vain.
* We had plenty of matches, a few candles, and working batteries in my flashlight if needed.
* We had plenty of food on hand, so there had been no need for us to succumb to the inborn Hoosier urge to flock to the nearest groceries and buy all the milk and bread in sight whenever a major storm is brewing. I don’t get this at all, but it’s a very real Indiana thing.
* My phone and the laptop we rarely use were each fully charged, in case we got bored.
* If evening temperatures plummeted, we have tons of blankets. TONS.
* The raw steaks and unmade bread dough were obviously a no-go.

Reluctantly we stored dinner in the fridge and switched to Plan B: PBJ sandwiches with a side of Doritos, plus all the milk we could drink. If by chance we’d be without power overnight, milk would be the one item guaranteed to make us feel guiltiest if it went bad. She lit a candle, we assembled our retro school-lunch dinner with minimal fumbling, then settled in for a cheap but cozy evening. If you squint at the photo, you can make out our glasses of milk (vastly preferable to both of us), and the odd red smudge to the left is the Doritos bag. My sandwich is at lower left, engulfed by endless darkness.

While I was trying to take this photo, before we could dig into our meals, then the lights came back on, an hour after our relatively comfortable, not-nightmarish ordeal had begun.

Naturally.

So…what I had been afraid might be our opportunity to survive in the face of adversity instead became unexpected, offbeat quality time with the little lady. We enjoyed our simple grub, we compared notes about the Sunday newspaper, and we shared dipping methods. I’m proud to report neither of us panicked or turned into savages during this momentary reality shift. Our vital signs seem steady and my wife is sleeping well without need for medication. Also, our roof remains where it should be.

In retrospect, we’re grateful that nothing too “interesting” happened to us (in the Chinese-curse sense), and I’m perfectly fine with having no firsthand sensationalistic headline of my own to share.

We regret that many others can’t say the same tonight. Perhaps that candle should be for them.