July 11, 1996 was the day I learned the power of Mother Nature. She had fists like chain saws and breath that felt like putting your hand out the window on the highway. It was the day I felt the Earth-quaking power of Hurricane Bertha. She was a cruel mistress—I doubt I’ll ever forget her. With a single wave she pulled a restaurant straight under the water and played with broken glass like no adult I had ever seen. I was eight years old and the numbers from that day convey nothing good. But my reality was, perverse or otherwise, a great day spent sitting in the hallway of my great-grandparents’ apartment, playing cards with my family as if the cacophony of destruction just outside those brick walls was irrelevant. It wasn’t a lost day. It was a day for the nervous laughter of adults and the blissful ignorance of a little kid. The monetary loss of that day was real for my family and those around us in Carteret County—Emerald Isle and Atlantic Beach if you’re not familiar with those parts. My gain, though, was a closeness that I still look fondly upon 15 years later. I had the same sort of experience this weekend, as North Carolina was once again swept into a fury by the power of Irene. The scale of this storm was nothing like that one 15 years ago when the world seemed to stand still for a day, but it was still enough of a wretch to break trees and send my friends and I into darkness for the day. Much like the time of Bertha so many years ago, Irene was an opportunity to forget about technology and unwind with some of the people in my life. The world slowed down to a much more reasonable pace—the television didn’t impede conversation and the computer couldn’t distract with its wares. Technology, in all its forms, has made our lives easier, safer and more connected in a lot ways we’d be foolish to discount; and while it is indisputably ignorant to yearn for simpler times, a day somewhat removed from our era of technology was in a way quite relieving. I usually chuckle at one of my older coworker’s stories of the time before the gigabyte and plug-and-play functionality, but his perspective seemed extraordinarily relevant as I sat in thought about where we’re headed. It’s absolutely incredible how quickly we’re hurtling forward into a future where the idea of a world without the Internet, smart phones and Google seems impossible. I remember life before Nintendo 64—it is palatable. The storm of 2011 simply served as reinforcement for me that I am still entertained by a group of friends, a bucket of ice and a deck of cards. I worry that my younger brother or my own children will never be able to appreciate that experience and perspective the way I could. Will the simple pleasures still matter when even more of our lives have been simplified and rid of problems? I didn’t relish throwing away all the perishables in my fridge this morning, but Irene, like Bertha, is going to be a mostly happy memory for me. The constant blitz slowed down and the world almost stopped for a day.