Reflections on the Ninth Week of Spring-Internet Connection 

    Because our Wells Wood Internet winked in and out, my brother Bob said, “You live in the sticks.”

    A week ago Thursday, Spence woke and turned on his computer. No Internet. We don't have cell phone service at the log house or long distance on our land line telephone. He drove to the highway for a signal to call Barb, the Meadville Windstream supervisor who tells Lester to make repairs. Internet service came on for forty-five minutes mid morning. Then it went out and took the land line telephone down too.

    No Internet meant I couldn't pay bills. Worse, I couldn't study weather to pack appropriate clothes for activities on Hilton Head Island including my mom's memorial service or check in for the flight to meet our daughter Ellen in Savannah. I packed turtlenecks and put off the other two tasks till Friday.

    But Friday dawned without service. Spence drove to the highway and chatted with Barb again. Weak cell service let me send a text asking Ellen about weather forecasts for the trip. She answered, “Sunny. Temperatures mid eighties and high seventies.” I unpacked the turtlenecks, put in T-shirts, and figured I'd pay the bills when I got home Monday night after the flight to Pittsburgh and drive to Wells Wood.

    No Internet Monday.

    No Internet Tuesday. That morning Spence hopped in the truck, called Barb a third time from the highway, then went to Cochranton Library to check email and post an Nonprofit Quarterly article using the library Internet.

    Tuesday afternoon, I drove Spence to Greenville's Huntington Bank. At the counter, I waved six bills at the teller and said, “Can I pay these here? My Internet has been down for five days, and one bill was due yesterday.”

She said she couldn't but left her work station to consult the manager about my dilemma.

    The manager said, “She can use my computer.” The manager waved me to her desk, turned her screen toward me, and slid over the keyboard. She asked if I were left or right handed before placing the mouse and mouse pad by the keyboard.

    I logged onto the bank website, paid the six bills, and thanked her.

    At the top of Route 173 hill on our way home, a lime green service truck was parked on the berm. A man's backside and legs stuck out from the Windstream box.

    I parked across from the truck.

    Spence got out of the car and met Lester. Spence asked about our Internet and invited Lester down for a cup of coffee.

    When we got home, the Internet was on but slow. I answered three emails before it winked off.

    The Windstream truck crunched gravel in our driveway. Lester checked connections outside before coming in for a cup of coffee. He wore a crew cut, black rimmed glasses, and a frown. “You've had nothing but trouble with this connection.” He crossed his legs and cradled the fat blue mug in his hands. “If I was the kind of man who got frustrated, I'd be frustrated now. But getting frustrated doesn't help.” He finished his coffee then found a wire in the basement that broke in his hand. Lester speculated another repairman had nipped the wire when he'd made repairs, and the wire had been touching off and on making the Internet connection wink. Lester updated the router and made two calls for tech help to establish connections. After two and a half hours, the Internet wasn't working. Lester drove to Meadville to fuss with wiring at headquarters. That worked. Internet came on. Lester drove back to Wells Wood at 7:30 to check that the Internet was still working.

   And he called the next morning. “Do you have Internet?”

  We may live in the sticks, but rural folks–at the library, in the bank, or from a lime green service truck–know the value of staying connected.