by Jennifer King,
Because my father worked for the largest
power company in
, my family revolved around energy the way some families do around farming
or religion. We went to company outings at Maine Yankee nuclear power plant,
and my brother and I ran three-legged races with a nuclear reactor in the
background. I wrote school reports about how storms interfere with power
lines, and my father spent such stormy nights on the phone with linemen and
customers. And from the time I was tall enough to reach a light switch, I
was continually reminded that a kilowatt saved is a kilowatt earned.
When I was six, my father gave me a
Kilowatt Savings Time bumper sticker. It was a reminder encouraging
customers to conserve electricity at heavy-use times so that energy stores
would not be depleted all at once. At the age of six I never really
understood Kilowatt Savings Time. When I asked my father what it meant, he
told me we should run the dishwasher late at night. I ended up sticking the
bumper sticker to the outside of my Barbie doll case. I had little use for
Barbie or a sticker regarding dishwasher use, and in that sense they seemed
to go together.
A few years later my father invented the
Fuelish Freddie Award. It wasnít really an award, but a shameful moniker
given to the child who left his or her bedroom light on after getting ready
for school. At first my father gathered my brother and me together for the
judging, which didnít take long given our adjacent bedrooms and the speed
of light. I probably got the award once or twice, but when it became clear
that my brother was unapologetically the most fuelish, the competition
itself was a waste of energy.
My teenage years were probably my least
fuel efficient. I did not believe one could shower too often or for too
long. I know my brother and I were not the only teenagers ever to hear a
bang on the door and mumbling about wasting hot water. But I bet no one else
can say they heard the knock from the patron saint of hot water
conservation. When my father said, ďIíll take a shower and then we can
go,Ē for practical purposes that meant, ďget your shoes on.Ē Itís
impossible to justify a 10-minute shower to a man who is always in and out
before the water even has time to heat up.
In addition to taking long showers, I
rebelled against my motherís practice of hanging the laundry out to dry.
The stiff, wrinkled clothes that had recently been flapping shamelessly in
the breeze were just too embarrassing to wear outside the house. Fortunately
my mother was sympathetic: When presented with t-shirts that stood up on
their own, she agreed to put things in the dryer long enough to soften them
Unlike other, hipper households, in our
household saving energy was not directly tied to saving the planet. The fact
that energy was precious and cost money was reason enough to save it. While
my fatherís employment planted the seeds for saving energy, those seeds
were nourished by the energy crisis in the seventies and good old-fashioned
In my mind such frugality has descended
straight from the Puritans, who would undoubtedly regard long, hot showers
as the devilís work.
Of course, my parentsí energy-saving
didnít take effect until after I left home. It was in college that I first
saw people who dared to keep the refrigerator door open long enough to see
everything that was inside. They stared as if they were looking at a
painting in a museum, and I reacted as if they were stealing the painting.
With a hint of hysteria Iíd ask them what they were doing, and they would
usually say something about being hungry but not sure for what. Then I
swallowed the words my father seemed to be channeling through me, ďDecide
what you want before you open the door. Think about all the energy youíre
In college I learned that not every
family has the Fuelish Freddie Award, and that in general drunk people tend
to waste a lot of energy. I met students who spoke passionately about saving
the earth, only to leave water running and televisions
and lights on.
I told them it wasted a lot of energy
they changed the thermostat by 10
degrees, and they looked at me as if I picked through the trash to find my
But by that time it was too late for me
ó by then I could practically see energy waves. When someone would leave a
door open, the wasted energy undulated into the atmosphere. Often there were
dollar signs riding the waves.
Today Iím not as diligent as my father
is about saving energy, but I do honor my roots. When I hang laundry out to
dry I can hear my mother saying, ďThose towels use a lot of energy in the
dryer.Ē And when my husband and I were shopping for our first home, I
wanted to know about the insulation in every house we looked at. We bought a
newly built house, and on my fatherís first visit he inspected the
windows, commented every time the heat pump came on, and took me to the
hardware store to get insulation for the hot-water pipes. As we crawled
under the house with a dozen giant foam worms, I didnít complain.
For Christmas this past year my father
gave my husband and me a Willie Wired≠hand
tree ornament. Willie Wiredhand is Dadís current companyís mascot, a
happy cartoon electric plug. In the picture on the ornament, Willie is
wearing red mittens and a Santa cap. Next year, when the real Santa comes
down our chimney, Willie will be there to remind him to turn the lights out
before he leaves.
Jennifer King is the daughter of
Bruce King, general manager of BARC Electric Cooperative headquartered in
She is a freelance writer who lives with her family in