Posted by
mike from tucson on Wednesday, September 06, 2006 8:47:51 PM
Survival, Pt. 2 Coming to grips.
“Doggoned old farm was 40 acres ’a rocks, hills, holes, roots, ’n critters’ ud gnaw yer boot off for one good chaw ’a yer leg. But we’uns stayed. Thar was a helluva lot wuss places ta be! Least we had each t’other. ’N now ’n again between blessing us with new tads, the good Lord would bless us with a crop.”
If there were a massive local or national breakdown of society how do you think day to day survival for you and your family would look ? Do you see things humming along with perhaps a few bumps but no major pain or loss. Or are you like many of our nation’s conservative thinkers and pessimistic about the outcome. What do these government leaders, writers and think-tank denizens know that we don’t. For one thing they know that the public food supply distribution system in any particular major city has about a three day supply available while the average home has little more. They also know that the potable water supply in those same cities depends on complex systems of computer operated wells, processing plants, reservoirs and in some cases private delivery companies.
All modern systems for preserving perishable foods and providing potable water depend on working computers and a steady stream of electricity. In any large scale natural or man made emergency these vital systems can be counted on to fail catastrophically. What then? Generators? As we saw in New Orleans they are difficult to keep running and not reliable for more than a few days. Public hospitals and emergency shelters will have the most dependable power but will soon be completely overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of hurt and frightened citizens trying to take sanctuary.
Elevators run on electricity. Can you carry yourself, perhaps a child that can’t be left behind plus food and water up a dozen floors? That is if groceries and water are even available. Speaking of water, where will you find it? To drink, to flush the toilet, to bathe and wash clothes? These are serious questions. The victims of hurricane Katrina lived in a temperate zone where high rise apartments were not the norm as they are in some of our nations larger cities. Although the weather was hot it was still not as debilitating and dangerous as would be the winter’s cold.
My beginning excerpt at the top of the page depicts what could have been a general outlook by the legions of poor, hardscrabble farmers in the young years of the American experiment. No matter how bad it got “there was always ’wuss’ just down the road. And we each had each t’other.” The obvious question we must ask ourselves is: Which "t‘others" can we count on?
We saw in the immediate aftermath of hurricane Katrina that the local, state and federal
governments were worse than useless in delivering life sustaining emergency aid to the desperate citizens who were caught up by events and left behind. Too many of the local police, with little positive control from above soon became nothing but legally armed thugs. When this small segment of easily corrupted cops saw the virtually risk free looting available, many helped themselves. Other police volunteers from near and far seemed to occupy their days with breaking down doors and beating and stripping innocent citizens including little old ladies of their only protection; their firearms. This is not to say that there was not a phalanx of loyal, brave and honorable police personnel who did their duty. But, could you take a chance?
So, who can you really count on? Not the government. Not the police. Not that nice guy who lives down the hall. They will all be busy keeping themselves out of harms way and in some cases causing more harm. Civil defense, FEMA? ‘fraid not. The grocery store guy who smiles and gives the kids a candy when you buy stuff? Nope again. Bribes? Money, Sex, your jewelery? Don’t think so? So, if there is no one to help you, who does that leave? It leaves you. John, Mary, Ken and Grace. It leaves you the 60 year old smoker who has trouble getting up the steps to the front door let alone the 8th floor. It leaves you, the 24 yr old single mom with the 3 stair step kids and a hundred pounds of extra love that goes with you everywhere. More later.