from tyler gibb It was last year when this area of the world was paralyzed by a harsh and unforeseen ice storm. In retrospect it seemed to happen overnight; the crystal shell that crept up and began to suffocate the land in and around the island city of Montreal.   The nights were filled for weeks with howling sirens and the crackling thunder of trees splitting down the middle under the weight of tons of ice. The night's sky was always lit with the flashing lights of emergency vehicles and the storming explosions of electrical transformers that gave under the embrace of the weather.   Many fled. The usual run of things was suspended in the city which fluctuated between luminescence and dark cold. But things slowly crawled back to an air of normality after many days; for most people that is. Yet still more, in out-lying regions, were left without electricity for up to a month.   A month without everything you've grown accustomed to.   Through the media, which did all in it's power to inform and televise, the citizens were told to please respect their neighbours by taking it easy on their power consumption if they were fortunate enough to have it restored. As there was such astounding damage in some rural areas, any excess electrical usage would surely cause problems getting the lines repaired.   But did that stop those who could so easily stuff the events behind them and out of mind the minute the lights came on? No, the sad and disquieting fact is that once these fortunate suburban areas got their power back they'd sooner forget that not so far away, people were still gathered in community shelters and herds of cattle were being slaughtered because they could no longer be tended to.   I found myself in a grocery store, which was fortunate enough to have a generator, about a week and a half into the crisis. It was hard for me to accept what I was there for. I was looking for candles so that I could count the safe totals from the day before at the video store where I worked.   Candles. Candles were impossible to find at this time on the entire island.   I bought one of those big thick birthday cake candles in the shape of the number "8". It wouldn't last long, but I could get the safe counted and maybe warm my fingers with it for a few minutes. I can't believe our manager had us open the store.   But as long as there was day light, we'd stay open since he'd heard that some power had been restored to the area. The radio warned, no, begged, us not to use electricity frivolously, and I was opening a video store of all places. I couldn't believe it. And it made me sick when the customers actually showed up. They came in droves.   A crisis which we'd all felt the bite of, and while there were still people out there who needed us to read a book by candle light, or have a conversation with our family, we turned on all the lights we could; clicked on the tv, vcr and stereo sound system and let our hydro meters spin.   It was the painful realization of a speculation I'd always lived with. That when the time comes; we as a society simply won't be able to handle it. We will disrespect our neighbours under the crunch of our own cupidity. I am still ashamed to have been apart of it, to have been apart of such collective stupidity.   (To read part 1 of The Winter click here)