Your weekly opinion column by owner/founder of Border Pulse – Dan Gray
Human behaviour has always fascinated me. Maybe that comes from living through the Great Blackout of 2003, a sweltering summer outage that lasted nearly two days. Or maybe it comes from growing up in rural southwestern Ontario, where power outages were not a surprise but an expectation. When the lights go out, you adapt.
Yesterday’s five-hour outage showed me something else entirely. Not resilience. Not readiness. But how quickly we panic when the systems we rely on disappear.
My wife and I were already out covering a story when the power went down, so yes, we drove to Vermilion for food. Not because we could not cope, but because beans warmed over a candle did not feel necessary when options still existed. The difference is important. We had a plan.
Candles came out. Battery packs were charged. Fridge and freezer doors stayed closed. In my head, the plan went further. Where a safe community fire could be made. How long stored food would last. What mattered and what did not. Thankfully, none of that was needed.
Scrolling social media told a very different story.
“What’s open to eat?”
“Where can I get gas?”
“Does anyone know what’s going on?”
These are not unreasonable questions. But they reveal a deeper issue. Many of us no longer know how to function without instant access to power, payment systems, and real-time updates. Yesterday was a minor inconvenience. A longer outage, or one in the dead of winter, would not be.
In my opinion, a 2003-scale blackout here, in January, would cost lives.
That is not alarmist. It is honest.
And yet, there were bright spots.
Spiro’s stepped up. Wheaties in Kitscoty was slammed, with wait times over an hour, and still kept going. Several Lloydminster businesses served food until they simply ran out. People crossed community lines, with Lloydminster residents filling diners in Vermilion. When systems failed, people filled the gaps.
Social media played a dual role. It exposed how unprepared many were, but it also became a real-time bulletin board. Information moved fast. That allowed organizations like mine to identify what people needed most and focus on verified updates instead of noise.
This is the paradox of our digital world. We rely on power for everything, yet rarely prepare for life without it.
So what do we do differently next time.
First, every household needs a basic outage plan. Not a bunker. A plan. Candles or lanterns. Matches. A battery-powered radio. Power banks charged ahead of storms. A way to heat simple food safely. Enough water for a day or two.
Second, know your community resources before you need them. Which businesses can operate without power. Which neighbours need extra help. Who has skills, tools, or space to safely cook or warm up.
Third, stop assuming help will arrive instantly. Emergency services will prioritize life-threatening calls. That means individuals and communities must carry themselves for the first stretch.
Finally, practice discomfort. Not as punishment, but as preparation. Cook without power once in a while. Turn off the breaker for an evening. Learn what breaks and what does not.
Yesterday was not the end of the world. It was a warning shot.
We got lucky. Next time, we might not.
Preparedness is not paranoia. It is respect for reality.
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