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 E SAT TOGETHER ON A SMALL SOFA IN OUR TOWNHOME. I BROUGHT two glasses and sparkling apple cider. My husband contributed a windup, battery, and solar-powered flashlight/radio and duct tape. It was minutes before the clock would strike midnight, signaling the start of 2000. We were prepared for the disaster that many feared imminent once the world’s computers malfunctioned. For at least a year we had listened to the dire predictions and had prepared for society’s meltdown.
We were ready for . . . nothing. Nothing catastrophic, that is. The lights didn’t go out, and no loud explosions rocked our home. “Happy New Year,” I said as I handed my husband his glass.
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