Funky poles prop up lines -- that power lives

Listing, splintered infrastructure is proof that protected monopolies put profits first

The power went off.

This is not surprising. Anyone with Cape history knows this is part of what it means to live here:

We have tides, we have tourists, we have outages.

But this time no snow, no blow. It was a calm, warm-weather morning.

Next came my traditional first response: Take a walk into the neighborhood to suss out whether this interruption was impacting others besides my home’s funky power scene.

I always hope for a broader blackout, not because misery loves company but because attention (if not repair) will happen a lot quicker if a communal swath is involved. Plus if it’s just me, no doubt mucho bucks and pain in the neck will ensue before I’m back online.

Then I berate my selfishness, because a more general outage might signal something tragic like a deadly car wreck taking out a pole. So there’s always tug-of-war thoughts on the trek out.

This time I came upon white trucks with cherrypickers angling up a pair of poles on Main Street, yellow lights flashing, guys in hardhats taking care of business. They were linking new hardwood poles, yellow pine or Douglas fir, causing a momentary shutdown but that was a good tradeoff because many of the vestigial poles were listing like ship masts in heavy weather, splintered, cracked, and scarred.

This does not mean the old ones will be gone anytime soon; all over the Cape you see pickup-stick pairs, generations partnered on the side of the road. Grey poles, like grandparents, often remain, maybe a black line snaking up and transferring to the stouter, taller, straighter youngster.

Whenever I focus on this crucial infrastructure I’m amazed by one thing: How shoddy it looks.

I’ve had the great good fortune to travel the world. Even in places with far less wealth, the grid looks healthier — assuming you can see it, often lines are buried for more reliable service, and better aesthetics.

Many utilities in faraway places are publicly owned and operated. Here we offer monopolies to private corporations, guaranteeing profit and shareholder dividends while taking advantage of an existential public need.

Degraded poles are proof that these entities do not return the favor by re-investing our utility bills as well as they could and should.

I fired my I-phone and focused on the closest, random example. Here’s quick video, with commentary below:

• Note black duct tape at the base; think that would pass any building inspector’s scrutiny?

• Cracked grey conduit installed to protect wires from weather; really?

• The sticker “2012: get rich or die mayan” is a nice touch. I have no idea what that means but apparently the message has been there for at least a dozen years, maybe since the Mayans.

• Note one capped wire to nowhere sticking up like a birthday candle.

• Nothing bundled, nothing straight, seems like cable service as well as electricity.

• The old pole displays a splinter that would wound an elephant.

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All this might seem like First World grousing; after all, when I got home the lights soon flickered and then the refrigerator began humming, the clock on the stove blinked 12:00, the modem demanded restarting. Back in business.

Privilege acknowledged, though I’ll note that our utility bills also are First World.

No doubt I’ll make the lights-out walk again soon, hoping the next inconvenience is as temporary and manageable as this one. Regardless, one thought remains:

If anything makes me believe in socialism, it is these ragged sticks, manifestations of protected capitalism and its priorities, that picket every street.

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