Absence Makes the Heart Fonder . . . of Electricity

Clock radio: out. Coffee maker: gone. Hair dryer: nope. Television: don’t even think about it--along with the electric garage door, can opener, computer and, of course, the lights. For hundreds of thousands of Southern Californians, home has recently had all the charms of a survivalist’s mountain hideaway.

With downed lines and power outages sweeping the region after gale-force winds, residents from Altadena to Sun Valley are coping in a world without modern comforts and conveniences.

In the darkness and cold of the last few days, many residents have faced the reality of their overwhelming dependence on technology, yet occasionally found solace and even fun in making like the 19th century.

For Margaret Hart of South Pasadena, Tuesday morning dawned quiet, cold and out of order. She wanted to sew, but the Sears White was out. She pulled out a can of soup, but the can opener was dead. She craved radio to break the silence, but even the batteries were dead. She went to call her daughter, but the phone only buzzed. Her house held a brisk chill, with the electric thermostat not working. Even a warming road trip was problematic, with her car trapped by an inoperable electric garage door.

“Everywhere I turn, I need the power,” said Hart, 88. “I’m kind of frustrated, but it makes you realize how lucky we are, all the things we usually have.”

Indeed, the recent hardships are a difficult confirmation of the onward march of progress, said Eugen Weber, professor of history at UCLA. “It’s not so long ago that even many middle-class people seldom enjoyed the comforts of a hot shower or indoor heat or a nice reading light,” said Weber, an authority on Western civilization. “I am bothered and amused by our tendency to blame ourselves for becoming dependent and taking comfort in these things. . . . It’s marvelous when we can find comforts like this. It’s terrible when we cannot.”

In Altadena, a young mother named Adriana Lim would agree. She fretted that weeks of hard work would begin to curdle before her eyes. “I’m worried about my month’s supply of breast milk in the freezer,” said Lim. “I can’t go out and buy that.”

In the San Fernando community of Sun Valley, Clara Ogilvie reported a loss of more than $300 worth of food from a large freezer. “It’s a good thing that I didn’t go shopping after the holidays when they had all those bargains,” said Ogilvie. “I would be in real bad shape now.”

But like many suburbanites, Ogilvie found that deprivation can have its collateral benefits. She and a couple of neighbors fled their homes for a local Mexican restaurant and margaritas and tacos.

Daniel J. Levi, a psychology professor at Cal Poly at San Luis Obispo, said his surveys of students confirm that “there is this kind of general fear of becoming more dependent, both at home and in our work, on technology. When food, safety and entertainment are all dependent on electricity, it is very disorienting when you don’t have that power.”

Only a minority of blackout victims will find the experience intolerable because they can’t separate their specific problems from disasters past and, for example, the ongoing flood damage in Northern California, said Lilli Friedland, a Century City psychologist and expert on the impact of disasters.

“People can feel overwhelmed and powerless about the big picture,” Friedland said. “This local thing makes it much more specific and reminds them of the floods or things that happened to them or their friends or family. It’s scary.”

On Tuesday, there appeared to be more emotional coping than crumbling going on at the foot of the wind-walloped San Gabriel Mountains.

In a tony section of La Canada Flintridge, Chris and Bonnie Christensen braved their regular three-mile walk in frontier spirit, despite gales and falling tree limbs. They even considered the possibility of barbecuing outdoors, before bowing to the allure of red leather booths and comfort food at Taylor’s Steak House.

In Altadena, 40-year residents Rosa Johnson and her husband, Kim, found joy in the lack of heat. “We cuddled,” said Kim Johnson, 87, with a twinkle in his eye.

And Dawn McCoo, 26, found a silver lining baby-sitting two preschool-age cousins, as the youngsters rolled a basketball around the floor of an Altadena home. “It’s been good for the kids not to get into Sega and TV,” McCoo said. “It’s good to see there are other ways to enjoy themselves.”

For many older residents, the power outages inspired the not-so-warm memories of growing up with cold and darkness.

“When I think of my mother with a family of eight children, doing her washing on a board in a big tub, I know all about no electricity, and gas lamps,” said Hart of South Pasadena, recalling her youth on a Montana farm. “I feel lucky I’m not wading through snowdrifts anymore.”

But even the concept of a flawless technological society and a life of limitless power would not make life anxiety-free, suggested Weber.

“We all live on the verge of disaster every day, and perhaps we would be uncomfortable, somehow, if it didn’t loom there,” the historian mused, chuckling a little. “Because we would have to find something else to worry about.”

Times staff writers Andrea Ford, Angie Chuang and Frank B. Williams contributed to this story.