We woke this morning to no electricity. I should be used to that after our years in Mozambique, but I don’t expect it in Wisconsin. My daughter describes being at a party in Minnesota as a teen when someone flipped off the lights. Everyone screamed as kids will do—everyone except my daughter, that is. She was overwhelmed with nostalgia for her childhood in Maputo where blackouts were a regular occurrence. We kept the candles and matches in a spot in the kitchen that was easy to find in the dark, and life went on.
This morning in Wisconsin
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