That's Life: Growing wind

Posted

Issue of July 24, 2009 / 3 Av 5769

Dear That’s Life,

Before each major fast day my brother and I joke about the preparation our father goes through in anticipation of not eating. It is not a spiritual cleansing but rather a food frenzy in which my dad takes a poll of what people are eating before and after the fast, in hopes of avoiding a migraine or just being downright hungry. It almost reaches “panic” status but the massive food purchases made on the eve of a fast may rival the preparation some make before a major storm. The American Red Cross has nothing on a Jewish mother before a fast.

The trek upstate for Visiting Day is not much different, with Mapquest printouts and the GPS preprogrammed with the “best” possible route to return home before dawn the following morning. Intense conversations between drivers take place for days beforehand. Getting stuck behind a slow moving vehicle on a one-lane, double-yellow-lined road is considered a chance worth taking. They share shortcuts and circuitous backdoor routes that could cause serious carsickness but may also cut time and some traffic. Vomit?  We can deal with that, but sitting in unnecessary traffic? Now that’s unconscionable.

Taking the road less traveled, we passed bucolic scenes uncommon to those who live in the Five Towns. Taking advantage of teachable moments, we pointed out the various farms and farm animals we passed. Suddenly I noticed a farm of an entire different nature. “Look!” I said to my husband and pointed out the window to my right.

Wind turbines dotted the hillside like huge sunflowers planted one by one, meticulously spaced so that each could grow and bloom as nature intended.  Thinking the children more likely to see cows in our backyard than a sight like this, we again got their attention and pointed out the window.

“What is that?” exclaimed my daughter. “That’s a wind farm,” said my husband, to which he added by way of explanation: “They harvest the wind.” “What does that mean?” my son asked, perplexed. I attempted to clarify but for some reason my grasp of the English language failed me completely and I said, “They grow wind.”

Not believing his ears, wondering what possessed me to give such a ridiculous (and inaccurate) explanation, my husband gave me a dumbfounded glare and asked, “They GROW wind, Miriam?” and tried to undo the damage.

Articulately, he explained to our (confused) audience that while we have fans in our house that use electricity to make wind, these fans almost do the opposite — they take the wind made by nature and use it to make electricity.

“That’s really cool,” said my daughter who, thanks to her father (and not her mother), now had a clear understanding of what these huge turbines do. For the next mile or so we watched as these massive but silent machines turned and turned, creating electricity to power surrounding homes and neighborhoods. It was pretty amazing to think about how wind, something we generally ignore, was being used to do something this remarkable.

Ironically enough, it made sitting behind the Pennsylvania driver on that one-lane road (who refused to even approach the speed limit) much more enjoyable. Imagine what we might otherwise have missed.

MLW