Pleasures of Chopin in a Power Outage

7 a.m. Rain pouring down. I see a blue flash in the woods beneath the power lines, followed by an ominous long buzz that vibrates through the kitchen. The lights overhead zap off, and flames leap up in the woods behind my neighbor's. The dog, watching beside me, jumps back, frightened. A second later, the lights come back on – it can't be safe to have electricity coursing through lines that are obviously damaged, and I try calling my neighbor, a widow, to warn her about the fire. Decide to call 911 first. The dispatcher says a Lower Merion crew has been sent out already. Then the fire subsides and everything goes dead.

When I take the dog outside to investigate, a policeman tells me that an underground transformer has been damaged and the power lines are down. PECO trucks come rolling up to the site. The dog and I go on our way.

Back inside, there's no phone, no electricity, and no internet –- could be a bummer, but there's also no painter! (For the past two weeks, our house and its occupants have been held hostage by a painter, who has parked all his equipment in our living room and shows up only when he deems his conditions optimal.)

I'm thrilled, because the house is quiet, I am freed of electronic obligations, and my piano works fine without electricity. So, surrounded by dry-vac, rollers, brushes, gallon cans of paint, fans, stepladders, dropcloths, screwdrivers, tubes of caulk, I sit down at the keyboard and play the Chopin Preludes, Etudes, Bach Goldberg Variations, and Brahms Opus 76 that I have been working on. Ahh. Music sounds better in natural light, no matter how gloomy, and without an electrical buzz in the background. An acoustic instrument, made of wood and wire and felt, needs only the power of a human touch.