To the editor:
To the thousand reasons I already have for loving Rockport, I added another on Saturday, Feb. 9. That was the day of heaviest impact from The Blizzard of 2013.
I was alone, a nonagenarian, without electricity or landline (though I am careful to keep my cell phone charged). I also am careful to keep my wood stove at the ready, to be ignited with the scrape of a match.
The fire was burning reassuringly … and then came the challenge. I decided to add another log and realized that I could no longer trust my body to easily balance the heavy log and my cane. I tugged at the log and was reasonably sure that I could, inch by inch, make it happen, when … I heard a rap at my slider door.
There stood two securely bundled up, purposeful looking men. Then I saw the bright yellow vests with black lettering. It was the Rockport police! They had to kick their way through over a foot of drifted snow to enter the house where, in my excitement I had spilled matches in several batches over the floor.
“Just checking to see if you needed anything,” one said and, at first, so heavily concealed by layers of clothing were they, I did not recognize him as Chief Tom McCarthy. The officer with him was Lt. Mark Schmink. The chief picked up the spilled matches, one by one, while Lt. Schmink arranged the large log over the hot coals.
They asked if I needed more help and I declined; a friend had informed me by cell that a crew from National Grid was working not far from my house (and, indeed my power came back in less than two hours). Meanwhile, the two officers reassured me that, should I need more help, they were at the ready to provide it.
That is my storm story and I want to thank, once again, the wonderful police force we have and the town of Rockport which they represent. Make that a thousand and one reasons.
BEVERLY QUINT
Rockport
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