We live on the dark side of the street in our first-ring Minneapolis suburb. Let’s just consider the past decade. I’m guessing the average is 4 1/2 nights per summer when our power goes out and you look at the houses across the street and into the cul de sac, and you know what can be seen?
Lights. Maybe the glow of TVs.
And when it’s a storm that takes out a big area for a substantial length of time, our covey of homes are always the last to have the power return.
On Tuesday, with the long summer days still upon us, I started watching the All-Star Game. Some rain had occurred, not an actual storm, and that had passed. As Paul Skenes was about to walk to the mound for the National League, there was the telltale flicker, then poof, there went the power.
Even if I hadn’t been watching TV at that moment, I would have known this from the aspersion offered by the bride from the upstairs viewing area. It was loud enough to conclude that she must have been watching an episode of “The Valley,” the latest hit on Bravo revealing flaws in America’s privileged youth.
We can all agree on this, can’t we? Major League Baseball would be much better off in its outreach if Andy Cohen had been its commissioner for the past decade and not Rob Manfred.
The first estimate was 9:30 p.m., causing me to go old-school. I got in the vehicle, turned on the game and drove around a couple of lakes. When I got back, we had power and I settled in to watch the conclusion of the All-Star Game.
