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Post by bretf on Jun 20, 2016 23:28:37 GMT
A long, long time ago, in a forum far away, I opened a thread called “Five Years Later” and began to read. “It's been five years since an EOTWAWKI event. How do you see yourself? What is your living situation? How are you surviving? How has your life changed? Here's my "vision"
I continued to read, and that thread wouldn’t leave me alone. When I milked my goat, it stayed with me, and a story began to form in my mind. I had never written anything longer than an essay, always for school, and mostly factual, although I threw a little fiction in here and there. But that was it, and it was decades ago.
But I started writing, and with my heart pounding and breathing rapidly, I posted my first ever attempt at real fiction. Tom was a great inspiration for me. Most times he would post comments, and “likes” for what I posted. So I kept on. The story shifted as I went, but stayed true for the most part to the “Five years later” meme. Although I couldn’t start my story there; I had to bring it up to that point. One of my driving forces in writing the story was questions I’d read on forums like this one, and that other one. So, many points in the story were addressing those things.
Looking back at the story, I think I could do a better job of it, but oh well. Maybe if I ever get the chance, I’ll change it. But here it is with pretty much all of the warts and poor writing that it had way back then.
THANKS TOM!!!
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Post by bretf on Jun 20, 2016 23:32:42 GMT
The Danged Rocks
A Story of Hard Times in the Greater Depression
Bret W. Friend
Part I: Amanda’s Story
Chapter 1: Amanda
March 2, 2018
I’ve held it all inward, God knows I’ve tried But it’s an awful awakening in a country boy’s life To look in the mirror in total surprise At the hair on my shoulders and the age in my eyes
Amanda, light of my life Fate should have made you a gentleman's wife Amanda, light of my life Fate should have made you a gentleman's wife
“Amanda” Performed by Waylon Jennings Written by Bob McDill
A light breeze blew stray strands of Amanda’s brownish-blonde hair into her face as she finished the last notes of Amazing Grace and flowed flawlessly into Ookpik. The plaintive notes from her fiddle brought tears from her reddened eyes and from the eyes of a number of other people at the gathering as well, but she played to the end. Her Dad deserved nothing less on this day- it was one of his favorite tunes. And what a day it was. It was one of those perfect spring days: the light breeze blowing; mourning doves were calling from the top of the cottonwood tree; the sun was bright in a cloudless sky, raising the temperature so the gathered group could almost remove their jackets. It was the type of spring day that made gardeners want to dig in the dirt after a gloomy winter; it made the kids want to start an outdoor game to burn off pent-up energy; it made housewives want to open the windows to air out the house and hang the sheets on the clothesline. In the past, men would be getting out dusty golf clubs and fishing poles, taking to the fields and streams. It was that kind of spring day.
After she finished playing, Amanda took a few moments to wipe her eyes while she looked into the hole in the ground and fought to maintain her composure. She pulled her eyes away from the sight as a sob and shudder went through her. After a bit she handed her fiddle and bow to her Aunt Carla and picked up a nearby shovel and, carefully avoiding the river rock mixed in the dirt pile, she gently poured the first shovelful of dirt onto the shroud wrapped body at the bottom of the grave. “That’s not Dad,” she thought to herself. “That’s just his shell. Jesus has a new helper in His garden now.” Amanda handled the shovel with practiced ease as she continued to move dirt into the hole; tears running down her face that mixed with the dust she raised and made dirty tracks down her face. She was 18 years old, tall and slender with an athletic build from playing basketball, running cross country and lots of hard work following the crash. Amanda’s younger brother Brad reached out and held Amanda’s arm to stop her action, then took the shovel from her and began to add more dirt into the hole. Bob and Alan took up additional shovels and stepped to the grave and added their efforts to the process of burying their brother.
Amanda’s Cousin Melissa looked her sister in the eye, nodded, and they started to sing in clear voices that reflected their many years of practice. Melissa’s contralto harmonizing with Tammy’s lower voice in a lovely blend:
“I come to the garden alone While the dew is still on the roses And the voice I hear falling on my ear The Son of God discloses.
And He walks with me, and He talks with me, And He tells me I am His own; And the joy we share as we tarry there, None other has ever known.”
“Well Dad, it’s as you wished,” Amanda whispered to herself, barely hearing the song. “You always said that when you went to just turn you into fertilizer for the garden, so that we might still get some good out of you. Well, here you are.” It wasn’t exactly as he had often joked. They were in a corner of the garden that was used now just to grow flowers, where his parents had also been laid to rest. “This was all so unnecessary,” Amanda thought. “If we just had medical care in this country, we could be out here together, planting seeds.”
The medical system had crashed with the rest of the economy nearly five years earlier. After years of reckless government spending and corporate greed where most good jobs had been sent overseas, government and personal debt skyrocketed. To fuel ever more spending, the Federal Reserve commenced with unprecedented flooding of the system with steadily more worthless “money”. The President, who would only fight with Congress on the budget with no intention of compromise, made spending reductions strictly on the domestic side. He was trying to cause the most pain possible at home in order to get the other party to agree to raise taxes. Most people continued their lives as if all was well, too deeply immersed in reality TV to see reality, although there were some astute folks who recognized the economy was on a precipice, just waiting for the right nudge to push it off. And then the real damage had struck. With the government so crippled and dysfunctional, some less than desirable people that had escaped their overseas cesspools felt the time was perfect to turn America into a cesspool. They started by hitting supermarkets and other places where large groups of people gathered. But the primary targets were the supermarkets; bombing them in locations all across the country, making most people afraid to go shopping. That was followed with bombs at other targets where they could affect many people at once. Then they disabled the majority of the power grid. It was so simple, blowing up a few key locations in the system that was linked together nationwide. Little food and no power were the ingredients necessary for a catastrophe. Commerce came to a lurching stop. It was merely symbolic when the Meadowlands was blown up prior to the Super Bowl being held there. Most games had been canceled leading up to the date of the game; the winner would not have been the true champion even if the game could have been played. The economy was so bad – not to mention the lack of television - it was questionable if the game would be held anyway; even as it was hoped to give an emotional lift to the hurting populace. Not that many people even heard about it. But it definitely put an exclamation point on the bombings.
*****
The song ended, the men finished filling the grave and stepped away. Amanda, her mother Amy and her Aunt Frances went to the fresh grave with a box filled with small plants – wild phlox and lupine, arrowleaf balsamroot and sage brush - and trowels to plant them in the freshly turned dirt.
“I…. can’t…. do…. it,” Amy said as her body wracked with sobs and the trowel fell out of her trembling hand. Brad went to his mother, helped her to her feet and wrapped her in a strong embrace. Amanda and Frances continued to plant as their tears flowed. All of the plants were native plants that Brad and Amanda had scoured the nearby foothills for that morning. “Dad sure loved the smell of sage brush,” Amanda remembered as she tenderly planted a small bush. “I just wish we could have found some wild onions. He always pointed them out when he would see them and loved their delicate little blossoms.” Amanda was momentarily lost in memories of hikes with Dad in the foothills looking at the spring wildflowers. A few of the plants were also planted over the graves of Amanda’s grandparents. Amanda and Brad had looked for plants that would grow without care in the hot, dry summer conditions of the area.
*****
While the teens had been in the hills, Alan and Bob had dug the grave. Alan was humming lightly while they worked. The tune running through his head helped him to deal with the gravity of the task at hand; it also helped distract him from the rocks that were growing ever more numerous as they went deeper. “Who decided graves had to be six feet deep?” he asked. Before the crash, they had just taken grave-diggers and their backhoes for granted. This was definitely a back-wrenching job.
“Beat’s me. But what’s that song?” Bob asked. “I can’t quite place it.”
“Just a song for this morning,” Alan replied. “It’s The Hollies,"He Ain't Heavy... He's My Brother”.”
“Yeah, that fits.” Bob answered as he paused in his digging to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead and stand straight upright to stretch his back muscles. While he rested, he thought back to some of the hunting and fishing trips the three brothers had been on together. Even when they were all busy with jobs and family, they had managed to get together for a few outings each year. He smiled when he remembered that someone usually had a fish brushed across their face or dropped down their shirt collar - totally on accident of course. He replaced Alan in the hole and continued to dig. They had learned that when the hole became too deep to work from above, a grave for one person was dug by one person at a time.
Both of them hummed the melody, cursed the rocks and talked sparingly of some of their more memorable trips. Those trips often included rain down-pours, poor night’s sleep, unexpected snow storms and packing elk out of some brushy hole they regretted going into. The trips that went without a hitch just weren’t as memorable.
“You know,” Bob said as he was working around a particularly big rock, “He could have at least got the danged rocks out of his garden.” Actually, Bill had developed a nice layer of fertile soil over the deeper layer of river rock and sand, though he had continued to haul buckets of rocks to the driveway each year that managed to work their way up as he tilled the soil.
Once the hole was adequate Alan clambered out with Bob’s help and they looked down at the hole together. “This really bites,” Alan said with obvious anger in his voice. “First Mom, then Dad, and now Bill. Is this what we have to look forward to now, burying our family. Welcome to the new American dream! We shouldn’t be burying our youngest brother. Thanks Mr. President and the rest of the SOB’s before you!”
After an awkward silence, Bob picked up both their jackets, handed Alan his, and put his own on. “That just might be what we can expect now,” he said. “Between the Prez, Congress and the puppet masters that pull their strings, they’ve pretty much screwed everything up big time. I just hope it’s not permanent but I won’t hold my breath on that.” After another pause, he finished, “We better go get cleaned up.”
*****
Amanda’s neighbor Mike led the gathering in a final prayer. Mike was a large man with a full bushy beard. Like most of the populace, he was a much slimmed down version of his former self. Prior to the crash he had been the information technology director of a small company – a dyed in the wool computer geek - and knew nothing about providing for himself without takeout food – even a supermarket stretched his boundaries. Bill had seen the sorry state Mike and his family was in and had taken them under his wing. Mike had become fiercely loyal to Bill and sorely missed his good friend.
Mike’s booming voice concluded with “Amen” and the group slowly left the garden and proceeded to the garage, Amanda and Brad lingering at the gravesite a while longer. Mike’s wife Leslie and some neighbor women had laid out a modest but filling meal for the group. Brad had butchered two roosters the previous afternoon and had started them slowly cooking in a Dutch oven before he and Amanda had gone into the hills. The chicken had simmered in a sauce Amy had concocted from Bills homemade wine – Amy had told him his wine was better for cooking than drinking - , butter and onions and garlic. A second Dutch oven was filled with scalloped potatoes. The ladies had put together a nice salad of a variety of greens, green onions and radishes, harvested that morning from the mounds of dirt that had only recently been beds in the greenhouse. A platter was laden with sourdough bread, made from Amanda’s Grandpa’s starter; he had claimed it was over one hundred years old. The meal was accompanied by quart jars of peaches, picked from the garden orchard and canned late the previous summer. It was all washed down with well water and fresh goat milk.
During the meal, which Amanda and Amy were not inclined to eat,- “It all smells so good but I don’t think I could hold anything down,” Amanda thought, the two went to their friends to thank them for coming to the service. Both struggled to put on a calm demeanor. They heard the same message echoed from all of their neighbors, “We don’t know what would have happened to us without Bill. Either we would have starved or gotten some disease from drinking bad water, or something else. He taught us so many things to help us get through. It was a true honor to know him and he would be deeply missed.”
Amy thanked them for their kind words. However, instead of comforting her, many of the comments added to the sense of dread that was growing inside her with Bill’s absence. She also had little idea of how to cope with the changed world. She had just followed his lead. It had been such a struggle; more mental than physical, although the physical change was evident. Her hair had gone totally gray in less than a year. Her clothes now hung loose on her even though she had the best muscle tone of her life. It was only through Bill’s calm guidance and knowledge that they had come this far. The prospects of continuing on without him terrified her so much that she was afraid she would begin screaming at any moment if she dwelled on it.
Amanda also thanked the neighbors for their kind words then took her mother by the arm and led her to the makeshift table where much of the extended family had gathered. The family’s talk was centered mostly on the final preparations for the following day. Amanda’s eyes began to tear again, thinking of leaving her home so soon after losing her Dad. “Jesus,” she murmured, “Please help us all through this time and give us the strength to bear the burden. It is so hard without Dad and now, to be leaving home feels nearly overwhelming. So Father, please give us your blessing on the move and travel mercies tomorrow. It is through your Grace that we are here at this time and I thank you for all you do in our lives. And please make sure Dad knows how much we all miss him! Amen.”
Bob looked at Amanda and said, “I’ve got my stuff pretty much loaded, just a few things yet to grab in the morning. I’ll be here just before first light so I can help get the livestock loaded.” “Get here” wasn’t that difficult since most of the family lived within a short distance of each other on the same street. The four siblings – Bill, Bob, Alan and their sister Carla - had all grown up there and as the crash deepened, the two that had moved away had both returned. All of their children were also there so they would be leaving as a large group.
“Thanks Uncle Bob,” Amanda answered. “We can definitely use your help. Mom and Aunt Fran will be getting the rest of the house stuff put together so it will be up to you, me and Brad to finish up outside. The animals probably won’t like leaving their beds that early so I’m sure we’ll have our hands full.” They continued to discuss the next day’s plans while Bob worked on emptying his plate of food.
After the meal was cleaned up, the neighbors again offered Amanda’s family condolences and wished them well on the impending move as they began to make their ways towards home. Amy, Frances and Amanda gave Mike and Leslie hugs as they were leaving. Mike and Leslie’s son Mark, a pained look on his face, looked on with teenage awkwardness; hands deep in his pants pockets, his weight shifting from foot to foot; avoiding eye contact with everyone, not knowing just what to do or say. Mark had idolized Bill and hung on his every word. When the crash hit and Mike was bewildered in how to care for his family, Mark had gravitated to the quiet confidence Bill showed in teaching the family about beginning self-sufficiency. His hurt was as deep as if for one of his own family.
Amanda looked at him until he finally made nervous eye contact. “Mark, thank you so much for being here with us. My Dad was so proud of you for everything you did and learned to help your family.”
Mark looked back down at his shoe tops and tried to shove his hands even deeper in his pockets as if it were possible. He was barely audible as he mumbled, “Thanks Amanda. I’ll really miss him.”
Brad held out his hand to shake and Mike grabbed it and pulled him into a bear hug. “You’re the man of the family now Brad,” he said, as he released the embrace and held Brad by the shoulders looking him straight in the eyes. “It’s going to be up to you to take care of these ladies. I know any son of Bill’s will be up to the task.” Brad gulped hard at the thought, doubtful that he could ever fill in for his Dad, but thrilled at the recognition Mike gave him. With that, the families bid one last good bye and Mike’s family went to the road and started walking to their own home, the air noticeably cooler as the sun descended in the western sky.
After the last of the neighbors had gone, Amanda and Brad changed into work clothes and set about taking care of the evening chores. Amanda got the milk bucket and a bucket of grain and went to the goat shed to milk. While Amanda was milking the goats, Brad gathered the day’s eggs, gave hay to the goats and cows, chopped some mangles that he mixed with grain and soured milk to feed the pigs, then made sure the animals all had water. The feed had been loaded onto a trailer, secured for leaving the next morning, making it less convenient than it had previously been, slowing the process. Brad was still at the water pump when Amanda turned the second goat loose and joined him. Amanda took over the hand pump and pumped a final bucket with water for the house. They walked to the house enjoying each other’s companionship. They had that special sibling relationship where at one moment they were each other’s best friend and the next moment worst enemies, although always in a playful-bickering-pestering mode. The crash had drawn them even closer together. The bickering had slacked off and they now relied heavily upon each other. “Amanda,” Brad said tentatively, “You know, I’m scared about leaving. This is the only home we’ve ever had. It is just so, I don’t know . . . unknown at the cabin.”
“Yeah, I know. But we’ll all just work together and get along fine.” She rested her free hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, reassuringly, as they walked. “It’ll be tough, for sure, but probably not much tougher than what we’ve already been through. I’ll cover your back – you cover mine, and we’ll both look after Mom and Aunt Frances. Dad always said that if the two of us pulled together, we could pull anything off. I’m finally starting to believe it.” Once in the house, Amanda strained the milk while Brad cleaned and cartoned the eggs, then she cleaned up while he took the milk and eggs to the root cellar. With the temperature staying so cool at night, the root cellar was as effective as the refrigerator had been in the past at keeping things cool. It wasn’t nearly as effective in the hot summer months, but it helped.
After using the hot water from the pot that was always on the wood stove to clean up, Amanda re-filled the pot from her fresh bucket and set it back on the stove to heat. She returned to the sink and looked out into the gloom for a minute, then stood with her eyes closed tightly; thankful the day was nearly over while dreading the coming day.
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Post by bretf on Jun 20, 2016 23:36:23 GMT
Chapter 2: Falling out of Heaven
The farmer stands out in the corn All dried up from drought Says oh Lord what can I do The sun's gonna burn us out You've been faithful to provide And I believe you will Just give me some kind Of sacred sign And I can pay my bills “Falling Out of Heaven” Performed by Kate Campbell Written by Kate Campbell and Walt Aldridge
With the day’s activities and evening chores taken care of, Amanda put the last of the chicken meat on a slice of sourdough bread. Her nerves had finally calmed enough to eat something; it was amazing how therapeutic it could be to milk the goats. She and Brad joined Amy and Frances where they had settled into the sparsely filled living room. Bob and Bill had already moved most of the contents of the house that would be needed to the cabin. Much of what still remained would stay at the house.
The room was faintly illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle and the fire-light through the glass door of the wood stove. Amanda sat on a folding chair, mesmerized by the dancing shadows on the wall as she began eating her light meal. Amy looked to her and asked in a voice that skirted the edge of panic, “Amanda, really? Are we really doing the right thing, leaving home? Can we really make it isolated up there on the side of a mountain? There is still some functioning government. They have to get everything cleaned up before long. Are you certain this is the right thing?” Amy still desperately clung to the hope that things would right themselves any day; that the last five years would turn out to be just a dream – a very bad dream. “It couldn’t have changed things forever, could it?” she asked hopefully.
Amanda slowly chewed her mouthful of bread and chicken while she collected her thoughts on how best to answer – a trait she had inherited from her father. He had held to the saying “Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt,” and always made sure of his answers before talking. Judging by the unsteady nature of Amy’s voice, the words needed to be just right this time.
“I’m not certain of anything, Mom. However, I feel in my heart we are doing the right thing, but I don’t like leaving any more than you do- this is the only home I’ve ever known. I know Dad thought and prayed long and hard about it. When the canal failed last year it really changed things. To go from having the water flow to us to having to carry water just to finish the growing season totally altered our circumstances. You know Dad and the other men couldn’t get the washout fixed. Unfortunately we live in the high desert. And it will return to desert without irrigation. He said it would need heavy equipment to fix the washout that we just don’t have access to. The government farms are getting all of the priority now. A bunch of subsistence growers just don’t have the same clout.”
“But I just want to go back to how it was before. I want to turn on the faucet and have water flow. Flick a switch for lights. I want to get in my car and drive to Wal-Mart or Albertsons and buy what I want, and I don’t even like Wal-Mart. I want to take a hot shower without heating water first on the stove. I want to sit down with a box of your Girl Scout cookies and veg out to some mind-numbing TV show. I just want . . . things right and . . . your Dad back,” she said in a quavering voice as she wound down, sobbing as the weight of it all closed ever tighter on her.
Amanda handed the remains of her meal to Brad and went to her mother and pulled her tight. “I know Mom, I wish things were the same as before too, but they’re not.” Amanda released the hug and held her Mom at arm’s length and looked her in the eye as she forcefully continued, “I miss all those things too. I miss my friends and I pray they are still safe. I wanted to go to high school – I dreamed of high school and everything I would do there. I wanted to do a lot of things besides working so hard to eat.” To herself she added “and I wanted to see Dad with my children, loving and teaching them as he taught me,” then had to fight hard at the emotion that flooded her before she could continue. “But that world is gone and we have no idea if it will ever be back. Dad thought this through and decided it would be best for us to leave, so that’s what we are going to do. And remember, with the spring and the generator at the cabin, we will have running cold water and some electricity again. Until the day comes you can jump in the car and go to the grocery store for what we need, we’ve got to keep providing for ourselves. The government isn’t going to do it – they can’t do it. It’s up to us. Dad and Uncle Bob have got the fields set up to irrigate at the cabin. We can still grow our food without spending every waking hour packing water to the plants.”
The shadows cast on Amanda’s face, coupled with the tone of her voice gave her words extra weight. Amy was buoyed by the strong confidence in Amanda’s response and looked back at her. “You know Honey, I always said I was there at your birth, but from then on you were your Dad’s girl. I can just hear him making those same statements. You are wired just the same as him and it is really showing through now. He would be so proud of how you are dealing with everything,” Amy told her daughter. “You two adapted to the changes effortlessly while it has been such an ordeal for the rest of us. If he just could have made his medication work effectively,” she finished in hushed tones.
“I still don’t want to go, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice at this point,” she continued in the same quiet voice. “Besides, I’m not sure how much I’d like the house now without . . . . It would just feel so empty.”
Amanda didn’t respond as she wiped at her eyes, but her mind was active, “Yeah, I’m trying so hard to comfort you but I sure wish Dad was here to do it. I’m nothing but knots inside. I don’t know how I’m going to be the strong one when I miss him so much. But it’s like he always said, ‘Somebody needs to do it and I don’t see anybody else stepping forward’,” she told herself.
Brad and Frances looked on quietly, each fearful about the coming move. Brad was nearly 15 and had been the typical pre-crash kid: more interested in video games and skateboarding than learning anything about the garden or animals. Bill had been especially proud of the transformation he had made. Prior to the crash, Bill had seriously wondered how Brad would make it in the real world without someone to pick up for him. He had certainly persuaded his mom and sister to cater to him. However, he had learned a lot since the crash, but didn’t embrace the change the way Amanda did and longed for the easy life he had led. Amanda had always been the one interested in every project Dad had gotten into: the garden, chickens, and the goats; Brad looked at them as distractions. Then after the crash, she was Bill’s number one helper and sounding board, even more than before, learning new skills to cope like she was born to them. Brad had made great strides but still, he would much rather go the pantry and grab a bag of chips than nurture some plant or chicken for what he could get out of them. As much as Amanda had emulated her father, Brad had developed many of the habits and attitudes of his mother.
Frances was like her sister Amy – a city girl through and through. She had fled to her sister’s house “in the Idaho sticks”, barely escaping Las Vegas when the riots erupted and torched most of the city. She had come to Amy and Bill’s house for safety with only what was in her car and wasn’t looking forward to leaving their home. The road had been a very fearful place. She felt it was providence Bill had called her and insisted – no demanded – that she make up what he called a bug out bag and have it and twice as much spare gas as was needed for the trip on hand as well as a full tank in the car. Not just on hand, but in the car, ready to leave at a moment’s notice. He had tried to talk her into coming to their house right away but she brushed him off as being reactionary. So he badgered her to have the BOB, gas and an escape plan with alternate routes – and those routes better be on physical maps, not some computer or GPS program. Then he called numerous times and would not let up until she sent him photos of her preparations. He still wanted her to come right away, but relented after reviewing everything she had ready.
Amy and Frances also had a brother who lived – or had lived - in Ontario, California. No amount of badgering him or his wife could make them prepare for an emergency escape from their home, not even giving them a guilt trip to at least plan for their kid’s safety. They flatly stated that the President would send the necessary help if there were problems. Besides, all the stuff on the news about FEMA’s response to disasters being inadequate, “Well that was just stuff the media made up to make them look bad.” Bill decided if they stocked up at all it would be at the liquor store. They were rarely short on that provision. They hadn’t been heard from after the cell towers lost power, when everything else lost power. Bill had learned through shortwave radio that the entire Los Angeles area had deteriorated into a burnt out war zone with the gangs having better fire power than the authorities. “Good thing the state government enacted all those gun control laws”, he thought. “That definitely made the law abiders safer, yeah right!” Soon after that, even shortwave transmissions from the area dried up. Added to everything else, not knowing if their brother and his family were safe or alive had Amy and Frances’s nerves raw and constantly on edge.
Amy, though she had been married to Bill for nearly twenty years had rarely understood his actions. She would rather not know the state of the world and just stay within her own cocoon, insulated from whatever was going on. She would humor Bill in most of the stuff he did – it was definitely better than his co-workers that spent their free time at the bars, but she didn’t “get” him. She grudgingly agreed to some of his purchases, but then would spend an equal amount on the kids, just having fun. His efforts at self –sufficiency were also a challenge; she would much rather pick up a chicken from the deli ready to eat than have one of his home raised birds. And raw milk; she said that stuff was even worse than those stringy chickens. But he had eventually convinced her on many vegetables. When they were first married, she called him a veggie snob. But after eating the fresh produce from his garden, she had to admit the flavor far surpassed anything she could buy. She also preferred his free-range chicken eggs, but didn’t know why he needed so many hens.
Following a long awkward silence, Amanda finally said, “We should all get to bed. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Brad and Amanda made the final evening trip outside to secure all of the livestock for the night and check that everything was locked up. They had locked up the chickens at night prior to the crash for raccoon and fox protection. Now they were more concerned about two-legged predators for all of the livestock; and raccoons were viewed as just another food source. They were a lot scarcer than they had once been.
Their dog, Maggie accompanied them as they made their rounds. She was constantly vigilant, watching over the house and stock pens for intruders. She had earned her keep; her menacing bark had frightened off night-time visitors on numerous occasions. Amanda and Brad each gave her some pats taking comfort from her presence.
When Amanda and Brad finished and returned to the house, Amy had banked the wood stove for the night and everyone made their evening bed-time preparations, and bid each other “Good night” and retired to their beds.
*****
Amanda went to her bed and stretched out looking in the dark towards the ceiling. Her mind was filled with the events of the day and the upcoming move. And then she broke down, tears flowing and sobbing at the loss of Dad and home. She had tried to keep herself in control for her mother and Brad’s sake. Now alone she finally let herself totally go. “It’s not right, God,” she moaned. “We still need him here. It’s only been a couple of days and I miss him so much, I’m empty inside. I don’t know what we are going to do without him.”
Amanda cried until the well of tears dried up and she sniffled, wiping her nose often. Finally she closed her eyes, just to see the image of the shroud covered body at the bottom of the grave, prompting even more tears and nose wiping. She lay awake into the deep hours of the night with the same image returning each time she closed her eyes. Eventually exhaustion won out, and she fell into a fitful sleep.
Amanda awoke with a start at hearing her Dad’s pained voice. She jumped from her bed and rushed to the living room. He was there, sitting hunched over in his chair, an agonized moan coming from his lips. His forehead was covered with sweat and his face was twisted in pain. Every muscle was rigid. She rushed over to him and knelt at his feet. She reached up to take his head in her hands; if she could just hold him, she knew she could help relieve his pain; and he dissolved into blackness; then she was again standing, looking down at the shroud in the bottom of the grave. The shroud wrapped unmoving shape.
Amanda rolled and tossed in her bed coming instantly out of sleep, gasping from the vivid images of the dream. She sat upright and tried to breathe but she couldn’t catch her breath. She frantically sought peace – realizing it had just been a dream, and slowly started to calm down and bring her breathing back under control. She lay back down, her open eyes staring at the dark ceiling, willing the images to fade; Dad in such pain, his body in the grave. Slowly, ever so slowly as she closed her eyes, her mind shut down and she eventually dropped into sleep once again.
Amanda finished milking the goat – where are the rest of the goats – and looked into the bucket. What a pitiful amount of milk. She shook her head at the thought and let the goat out of the stanchion. The goat got stiffly off the milk platform, its usual nimbleness absent. Amanda stepped out of the goat shed and started towards the house. She felt a tugging on her leg and looked down to see a cocklebur attached to her frayed jeans, the well-maintained pasture overrun by burrs and thistle; where did those come from? As she looked up, she froze in her tracks. The roof of the house was caved in and an elm tree was growing from somewhere in the living room, rising above the walls. Every window was broken out and there were large holes in the walls. What happened to that? I just came out a few minutes ago. She slowly turned seeing disrepair and neglect everywhere, all evidence of Dad’s hard work gone. Her gaze fell on the corner of the garden; the burial corner was overrun by poison ivy. She dropped the bucket, milk splashing onto her legs as she pulled away from the burrs and hurried through the garden gate, and to the corner. Heedless of touching the plants, she reached for the base of the first plant to yank it from the ground; a vine snaked out and wrapped around her wrist. As she fought it, another vine wrapped her other wrist. The vines began exerting pressure, pulling her steadily down, down, down.
Amanda awoke in a sweat, fighting for breath. She looked around the dark room illuminated only by a slight gloom from the window and recognized she was in her bed in her room. It was just a dream. She sat up in the bed and leaned against the wall, afraid to fall asleep again; afraid of what her mind would conjure up next. Slowly she calmed down, sleep coming on her stealthily as the frightening images slowly faded from her mind.
Amanda slowly got out of bed and walked to her door. What had disturbed her sleep? She opened her door and looked around. There was bright light from the kitchen. She hadn’t seen that much light at night since the power had gone off. It was incredibly bright, but oddly, it didn’t make her squint. She stepped to the kitchen and saw a familiar sight: Dad was sitting at the table with a coffee cup in his hand, his head bent over his Bible, reading by lamp light. That kerosene lamp shouldn’t put off that much light. He looked up, saw her and smiled, his face seeming to light up, to glow like the lamp. “Amanda, come sit with me Darling,” he said.
She did as he said; confused after the dreams, this feeling so real, but in the back her mind thinking it couldn’t be; didn’t we bury him?; and sat in the chair he pulled out. “Uhh . . . D . . . Dad, w . . . what are you doing here?”
“I’m really not sure. But I’ve been reading about Joseph. You know, he was a great prepper. He understood God’s message that in the times of plenty, you put aside for the times of little. I’m now at the section where the rest of Jacob’s, also known as Israel’s sons, except for Benjamin, have gone to Joseph and asked to purchase food. If we read far enough, the sons of Israel will leave Canaan and stay in Egypt. I’m wondering to myself if there are any parallels here to them and you leaving home. I don’t know; that’s too deep for me to figure out. But I would like to think we are being guided by The Lord in this. And if we continue reading, we will see that eventually, they will need Moses to deliver them from Egypt.
“I still think it is right for you to leave and go to the cabin. But be cautious and when the time is right, return home. Think your situation through and be ready to change your plan if it looks like you need to. As Joseph’s people would come to learn, what is your deliverance one day may turn out to be something else later. The answers are all here,” he said, gently tapping her forehead. “Just look deep for them and always ask The Lord for guidance. If you need help with Mom, read this section together and reason with her. I’m sure that if you lay it all out to her after going over this, it will be easier for her to accept. But she is right to be concerned. Nothing is a sure thing. Now give me a hug and go get some rest. You have a busy day tomorrow.”
Bill kissed her softly on her forehead and Amanda wrapped her arms around him and they held each other tight. A tear ran down her cheek as she relished the feeling of his strong arms holding her and drifted into her first peaceful sleep of the night.
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Post by bretf on Jun 25, 2016 11:44:06 GMT
Chapter 3: Leaving
When you see that you're leaving And you see that you're gone And you see there's no saying Goodbye
All the trees are in mourning The light is late from the sun Casting shadow on shadow Now and from the sky
And it's hard not to want to turn around It's hard not to want to back on down We're only as strong as our hearts within Only as strong
And all you know of where the road goes Is someplace far and unknown You would think you would have gotten Used to it all by now
But each day just gets harder Every journey alone Never knowing if you'll make it Back home somehow
“Leaving Song” Performed by Mary Chapin Carpenter Written by Mary Chapin Carpenter
All too soon the first light of predawn came through Amanda’s window waking her. She groaned, looking outside, remembering fleeting bits and pieces of her dreams. She dismissed the first two as anxiety from losing Dad and her home, troubling but explainable, but the last one; was that really him coming to talk to her? She didn’t know but it had felt so real and comforting to sit with him again; to get the last hug in and hear his words of support. She got out of bed, stretched and went to the kitchen, her eyes lingering at the table and wondering, “Was it real”?
She went to the wood stove, opened the draft, then the door slowly, giving the smoke a chance to vent up the chimney and not into the room. She placed some fine kindling from the bucket onto the coals and blew on it lightly to get the flames started. The flames hungrily consuming the small kindling, she added some larger pieces of kindling, and sat back and watched the growing fire for a few minutes. With the dancing flames growing rapidly, she put two larger pieces of wood on the kindling – wood to take the chill out of the house and provide heat for cooking breakfast. Thoughts of cooking reminded her of other days. “Mom and Aunt Frances sure had trouble learning to cook on wood heat. I didn’t think they would ever stop burning the food. And Dad could shift three or four pans around on the stove without missing a beat and it all came out just right”, she remembered wistfully.
She went to the sink, filled the wash pan with water and washed her face, the shock of cold water draining some of the weariness from her. She rubbed at her eyes, feeling like they were full of sand; then dumped the water in the herb bed outside the door and refilled the pan and set it on the warming wood stove. Her Mom sure detested washing with cold water.
A mischievous smile came to her face as she went back to her bedroom for a packet. The family had been officially out of coffee for nearly two years. Dad had taken her aside and showed her one last sealed one-pound package he had hidden in an out of the way place. He had explained that someday Mom might need an extra pick-up treat; Amanda would know when the time was right if he wasn’t around to brew it. She had stashed it in her bedroom anticipating that the day of leaving would be the perfect time.
Amanda located the coffee pot where it had been packed away; her Mom didn’t think it would be needed it any longer; cleaned it and filled it with water and coffee and set it on the stove to heat. Personally, she didn’t understand the appeal of coffee. She had tried it once and nearly gagged on the bitter taste. “And the look on Brad’s face when I spewed it over the floor and then he helped me clean it up before Mom saw it. I’ll take an herbal tea over that stuff any day. No wonder Mom always filled her cup half way with cream and sweetener,” she mused.
As Amanda dressed the aroma of coffee began to fill the house. Well, at least it smells better than it tastes. She went to her Mom’s room and gently shook her awake and told her there was a treat waiting for her. She could hear Aunt Frances stirring in her room. She woke Brad, and then went outside to begin the morning chores. She had liked to sleep in until her Dad had started getting her up early to help him post-crash. He said that early morning was the best part of the day. She came to treasure their early mornings together, seeing the sun rise over the mountains. She paused and looked at the eastern sky, the mountains still a dark silhouette.
*****
Amanda was milking the second goat when Maggie let her know Uncle Bob was coming. It had been such a relief to see the goats and the pasture, all normal. It had only been a bad dream, but still . . . She was still feeling the effects of lack of sleep and crying during the night; her throat burned from sinus drainage and her eyelids felt raw, but she was feeling better with the solidness of the goat. It was a familiar feeling, accompanied by the odor of the fresh milk mixed with the earthy barn smells; a welcome comfortable feeling after going through the previous day and night in a partial stupor. It didn’t totally free her mind, but the familiar activity went a long way to soothe her frayed nerves.
The other two does and the jersey cow hadn’t yet freshened. Bill had staggered their breeding so he could always have at least one animal in milk. Amanda finished milking and turned the doe out as Bob came in. “Good morning, Uncle Bob,” she said, her breath condensing in the air. Despite the glorious conditions of the previous day, the early morning air was brisk enough to remind everyone that winter wasn’t retreating without a fight. “Brad is getting the chickens crated and we can work on getting the animals loaded after breakfast. Mom is getting something ready, and I know she has a plate for you. She called out that we all need to start today with a good breakfast. She didn’t know when you would let us stop to eat again. You’re such a taskmaster,” she told him with a grin. “We have the pickup hooked to the trailer and ready to load; the wood is all ready to go in the gasifier but we haven’t lit it yet.”
*****
After the bombings began, Bill reasoned that if the terrorism continued – “Yes, Mr. President, I consider it terrorism even if the FBI has yet to declare it so, political correctness be danged”, he had thought – that gasoline could become very scarce for the common people. He had set his father Cal up to watch a YouTube video on how to make a wood gasifier for a vehicle to run on wood produced gas. He had also given him a book with full plans, descriptions, and photos; written by one of the most experienced users of wood gas. Cal was a die-hard tinkerer and was starting on the first unit the next day. By the time Bill’s concerns about fuel shortages were proven accurate, the family had five working gasifiers on their pickups and they were only slightly impacted by the lack of gas. It also became a great barter tool, trading ideas and labor on additional gasifiers to some of the farmers in the area.
Bill had stumbled onto an article in the Mother Earth News archives years earlier about the magazine staffs’ efforts to run their pickup on wood and been very intrigued. He spent a lot of time researching the process and was especially impressed to see that many farmers in Europe had converted their tractors to wood gas during World War II. He continued to print and file every article and ‘how to’ he could find on the process and had accumulated a large collection of materials that could be used to make one. By the time he needed one built, between his and Cal’s junk piles, they had most everything needed to make numerous systems.
*****
Amanda and Bob met Brad returning from the chicken house and they went together to the pump house and pumped a bucket of water that they took to the house. Packing water seemed to be a never-ending chore. They were greeted by the aroma of fresh sourdough pancakes – “Aunt Frances must have mixed it up while we did the chores last night, how did I miss it” Amanda wondered - smoked salt pork, fried eggs and . . .
“Is that coffee,” asked Bob? “I haven’t had any of that in a couple of years, if not longer. Where’d you get it?”
Amy handed him a mug full and explained about Bill’s secret stash and Amanda brewing it that morning. “I think she’s just trying to make the trip uncomfortable,” Amy said with a grin. “Drinking coffee always made me need to pee, so it will make for a long trip to the cabin. I hope you are planning on making a couple of rest stops.” Amy’s puffy red eyes told a different story than the happy smile she fought to maintain.
Despite the red eyes, Amanda was happy to see the emotional lift the coffee had given her Mom after she had been such a basket case the previous evening. Comfort food sure is a good thing. Just the idea of something from the past has lifted her up, and judging by Aunt Frances, and Uncle Bob, it’s contagious. Just wait till we get to the cabin and I give them the Hershey bars Dad had squirreled away.
Bob raised the cup to his nose and inhaled deeply. “Wow, that smells good,” he said and lowered the cup and took a sip. The contented look on his face transformed into a grimace. “Okay, as I said, it’s been quite a while since I had coffee, but is this stuff just old or lousy? I remember it tasting a lot better.”
Amy chuckled and handed him the jar of milk. “Well, didn’t you always drink that foo-foo stuff? You better try doctoring it up. You can sweeten it with honey. That’s what I put in mine; it sure tastes different than the Sweet and Low I used to use.”
Bob added milk, honey, took a sip, and added more honey. With the next sip, he declared, “It’s not what I remember but I think it will do.” He emphasized the statement with a long satisfied sip from the mug.
Amanda quietly observed her mom and Bob’s byplay while she took care of the morning’s milk. “She’s trying too hard to be cheerful,” Amanda decided. “But at least she’s not weeping.” The thought coincided with another blank stare by Amy, the smile sliding away.
They all sat down at the table, joined hands, and Brad led the family in asking the Lord’s Blessing and then they dug in. The smoked pork wasn’t quite like the bacon of the old days, but it was a more than acceptable substitute. And the pancakes were nearly like Bill used to make them. Brad would have preferred store-bought syrup to put on them but there was none to be had. Bill didn’t stock it once all of the corn was genetically modified “Franken Food” as he called it. Instead he stocked lots of cane sugar and recipes for making syrup from juices they could harvest. That morning they had chokecherry syrup - Bill’s favorite – and honey. The honey had been such a blessing, becoming the main sweetener as the stores of sugar ran out. The bees had seemed to get stronger as the use of chemicals in homes, gardens and fields had dropped off as the crash deepened.
Amy and Bob each placed over-easy eggs on their first pancake, and spread the runny yolks all over them. They all ate heartily; Amy and Amanda hungry from little to eat the previous day. No one was sure of when they would be able to eat again with the busy day ahead of them. Brad ate with the gusto of a growing teenage boy involved in hard work; one hollow leg and the other with a slow leak. His appetite made Amanda wonder if there would be enough pancakes for everyone to get their fill before he was done.
Bob took the final drink from his coffee and ended up with a mouth full of grounds, courtesy of the old-fashioned percolator. “Amy, don’t you know the grounds are supposed to stay in the basket, not in my cup?”
“I thought you needed more fiber in your diet. Besides, you’re becoming a mountain man; it’s time to toughen up.”
“Nope, it’s not gonna happen. I’m planning on sitting on the porch and letting you ladies serve me nice meals like this one. Tough is over-rated.”
After everyone finished, Bob thanked Amy and Frances for the wonderful meal, quickly echoed by Amanda and Brad. The three washed and headed outside to load the livestock; leaving Amy and Frances to clean up from the meal and pack everything that was left in the house that was going with them.
The day was looking like it would be another nice spring day. In the growing morning light, the sky was mostly blue with a few light wispy clouds. The air was already beginning to warm. Amanda was thankful for the nice weather; inclement weather would have made an already stressful day nearly intolerable.
Mark was standing at the cow and goat pen as they went out. “Good morning Mark. It’s great to see you, but what are you doing here,” asked Amanda.
Mark took a deep breath, shored up his courage and looked directly at Amanda, “Well, I just thought you could use some help; not that I’m in a hurry for you to leave or anything,” he added sheepishly. “And you don’t think I’d let the goats leave without seeing them off, do you?”
Amanda flashed him a smile, her vivid blue eyes twinkling in pleasure, as she started for the gate, making him stumble and turn red as he started to follow. She noticed that was the longest sentence he had spoken to her in some time. She smiled again at the effect of her smile and said, “Seeing the goats off, huh? Thanks, Mark, your thoughtfulness means a lot to me. And we could sure use the help. I’ve never seen a cow or pig yet that will do what you want, and very few goats that will.”
The livestock consisted of a jersey milk cow and a shorthorn bull calf; a boar, sow and gilt; the goats: four does, a buck and two weathers; and about forty chickens. Besides the two does in milk, the rest of the female animals were heavily pregnant. Amanda prayed that the trip and relocations wouldn’t cause any problems. Soon after the dry goats kidded, Amanda would dry off the two remaining does in anticipation of their own kids.
The cow and calf were loaded into the front of the stock trailer. The divider gate was closed and the pigs and chicken crate were loaded into the rear section. Amanda was sorry to be disrupting the chickens; the daylight hours had lengthened enough that egg production had greatly increased, and she guessed the move would set them back again, as well as mess up the goat’s milk production. Oh well, it can’t be helped.
The goats were loaded into the back of the pickup with their leads secured. For years Bill had been training the weathers and the young does as packers. Each time he would remove the pack saddles, he put a scoop of grain in a feed box in the pickup, making the goats jump in for a snack. They were so well trained to jump in that the weathers always jumped right into the pickup hoping for a snack even when Bill had not set one out for them. The only one that gave them any trouble was the buck – of course. “It’s just plain orneriness, him making us grab him to load and getting his stink-pretty on our hands,” Amanda stated. The milk stand and the feeders were secured on the feed trailer. The remaining household items were loaded onto the back of Bob’s pickup with his gear and tarped over, and then they hooked the feed trailer to his pickup.
When Amy came out of the house, Amanda took her hand and asked Brad to accompany them. Mark stayed behind and talked with Bob and Frances, not wanting to intrude on the family but following Amanda’s every move with his eyes. Amanda, Amy and Brad took a slow walk through their home noting the emptiness that now greeted them. Amanda tried not to let any of the disturbing images from her dreams creep in as they looked through the house, pointing out some of the things Bill had done to remodel it over the years as the family grew. Going out the back door, Amanda looked at the area where the bee hives had been and remembered taking the introduction to beekeeping class with Dad so many years ago. They looked where the greenhouse had been and could picture Bill sorting his collection of sliding glass doors and building the greenhouse from other peoples cast offs. They could imagine him inside it, working at the benches, transplanting young seedlings; working at nurturing more crops he could harvest during the cold months.
They walked through the deserted work shop, missing the clutter of tools Bill always dropped on the bench, instead of returning them to the tool box, until it was too piled to work on a project. Amy had always wanted Bill to clean up his “clutter and junk”. Now it seemed so empty to her without his many projects scattered around. They noted the silence at the chicken coop with no roosters telling them the day was here. They walked through the garden noting Bill would have cold frames out and cool weather crops starting to sprout by now. They saw the blank areas where the hoop-houses had stood before being taken down and packed to the cabin. Bill had done so much at the home, that seeing much of his work dismantled and already looking neglected, it was just another harsh reminder that he really was gone. They walked to the corner of the garden where he had been laid to rest and joining hands, each said their own prayer and personal good bye. They silently went to the pickup, joining the waiting family members, still holding each-others hands. Amanda noted the anxious look on Mark’s face before he turned away from her gaze, blushing.
While Bob and Amanda had been loading up, the rest of the family had been loading the other pickups. All told there were twenty one members of the extended family making the move, ranging from Carla’s five year old granddaughter to sixty three year old Alan. They would travel in five large pickup trucks- extended and king cabs - all equipped with wood gasifier units; four of them pulling trailers. Neither Amy nor Amanda felt comfortable pulling the trailer so Alan’s son Ken would be driving their pickup. Each pickup carried at least two semi-auto rifles with high capacity magazines at the ready. Bob didn’t think they would be needed, but since they had them, they might as well be handy. Most of the thieves working the area were opportunists that preferred to work under cover of darkness. Then they came out in steadily increasing numbers, carrying off anything that wasn’t secured. During daytime, however, they kept hidden. There had been a few gangs in town that had operated openly during the early days of the crash, emboldened by the lack of police presence. But they hadn’t counted on the local National Guard unit remaining intact. The Guardsmen had formed up and dealt with the problems in a decisive manner. They were determined to defend the area and not let it slip into anarchy like had happened in so many places. They managed to maintain communication with the governor obtaining official approval for any actions they undertook. Prison was no longer an option following the crash; most law breakers died quickly of lead poisoning. The actions of the Guardsmen had sent a strong message to other thieves to stay hidden. ***** With the vehicles pulled onto the road, Brad was securing the gate when Mike joined his son standing with the group. “I know we said goodbye yesterday but I wanted to see you off,” Mike said. Mark had shuffled behind and slightly to the side of his Dad during the conversation, his awkwardness at the situation returned, hands deep in his pockets, looking at his feet, but would glance up and quickly look away if anyone was looking in his direction. Amanda dropped Amy’s hand and stepped in front of Mark. “I really appreciate your help this morning Mark. It means a lot and you have such a way with animals. You’re a very special friend.” She reached out and grasped Mark’s arm, feeling it stiffen at her touch. “Take good care of Belle now.” Belle was a goat that Mark had gotten from Bill. “And take good care of yourself. Now here’s a goodbye you won’t get from the goats,” she said with glistening eyes, then surprised Mark by giving him a hug and a lingering kiss on the cheek, her lips brushing softly across his ear as she pulled away. Mark stood petrified in place. Holding his gaze with her own, willing those eyes not to tear up, red cheeked Amanda backed away and turned and got into the pickup after her Mom. While Amanda had talked to Mark, Amy had given Mike the keys to the house and the locks on the gates and outbuildings. She also told him the milk and eggs in the root cellar were for his family to use. Mike and Mark would watch over the home and use anything they had a need of that had been left behind.
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Post by bretf on Jun 25, 2016 11:48:56 GMT
Chapter 4: Starlight on the Rails
“Oh God, we have been in exile in our own country and a stranger in another land. We walk down little roads in Cumberland, stooped because the sky hung down so low, And no place that we went was far. And always returned to us that terrible hunger that haunts and hurts Americans And makes us exiles in our own land and strangers wherever we go.
“Starlight on the Rails” Performed by Rosalie Sorrels Written by Utah Phillips
Bob pulled away first, towing the trailer with the stock feed, followed by Amy and Amanda’s pickup with the stock trailer. As they passed Carla’s family’s home, another pickup and trailer pulled in behind. Further down the road, Alan and his son Jim were each waiting with their families in front of their houses to join the caravan.
It was quiet in the pickup as Ken pulled away, a grim look on his serious face, each person reflecting upon leaving their homes. Amy looked at the empty house and remembered Amanda and Brad coming home as infants and growing into the fine people they were now. Could it really be eighteen years ago that we brought Amanda home from the hospital; fifteen years since Brad had first come home? Bill had been so nervous that first drive. Always a careful driver, he was strung tight on that trip. While Amy had just wanted to hold the baby tight but had to content herself with looking into the back seat child carrier, Bill drove like someone embarking on his first solo drive. He was so cautious, white knuckled on the steering wheel, making sure they made it home safely with their precious cargo. The usually twenty minute drive had stretched to more than thirty; extra-long stops and checks for traffic at each signal light and stop sign, slow gentle starts, driving under the speed zone. The horns honking and single finger waves never phased him. Amy clutched Amanda’s hand – her rock of support and comfort.
They drove slowly down the road, Amy so familiar with it, more memories coming to her. She and Bill had taught the kids to ride their bikes on that road, running alongside them, ready to catch them after the training wheels were removed. In winter Bill had taught them all to cross-country ski there, before tackling the hills. Grandpa had pulled them on their sleds with his 4-wheeler. She looked at Bill’s parent’s house as they passed; dark and lonely. It had been the location of so many boisterous gatherings; birthday barbeques that evolved into water fights, Thanksgiving dinners, Christmas gatherings, Easter egg hunts. So many of the family activities had taken place in the home; it looked so sad now. She reached to her pocket and found it empty. Amanda saw her action and pulled out a clean handkerchief for Amy and another one she used to wipe away her own tears.
Amanda couldn’t keep her thoughts in line. She was thinking of Dad and something they had done in their home when thoughts of Mark replaced it. He was extremely nice and polite, but he had gotten so quiet. It was exasperating. She would walk out to where her Dad had been working with Mark, teaching him something, and they were both talking away. Then, as soon as Mark saw her, he clammed up. He would sometimes ask Amanda about something to do with the goats or gardening that he didn’t understand, but it was so hard to engage him in a real conversation. He seemed to think two or three stammered words strung together made a sentence. They used to have long conversations but something had changed; he had grown muter by the day. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure him out. “Boys!” she thought, then amended it. “Not boy, young man.” He had turned into a remarkable young man in her view; she just didn’t know why he had gotten so strange. Men truly must be from Mars; he was just so confusing. With her mind spinning, she barely saw her grandparent’s house when they went past.
A solitary figure stood in the road at Amanda’s house watching as the last vehicle turned onto the connecting street and was lost from view. One hand was jammed deeply into a pocket, the other lightly touching his cheek. He slowly turned, looked dejectedly at the empty house, back at the empty road, and then, head down, made his way back towards his own home with slow shuffling steps. His hand continued to lightly touch his cheek.
The caravan of pickups and trailers made the turns on the connecting streets and eventually turned onto the main north-south state highway. The roadbeds were cracked with dried up stalks and vines from last summer’s weeds sticking up through the asphalt and encroaching from the sides, slowing making their way across the roads. Some of the weeds had been crushed, but traffic was sparse allowing the weeds to get a strong hold. The roots were making steady progress breaking down the pavement. Some low spots were marred by large broken up sections where rain water had settled and frozen, breaking the asphalt with ease. This had been helped by the heavy truck traffic of the past that had worn deep grooves in the roadbed. Nature was flexing her muscles without the constant maintenance of the road crews. Bob set a slow pace over the rough roads. No need to jostle the load and animals more than necessary. We don’t want the goats to give whipped cream tonight.
*****
The family was moving to Bob’s cabin in the low mountains about forty five miles to the north of town. Bob had bought the forty acre site many years ago as a place to get away to but still relatively close to home. It was on the south east slope, up a long gravel road that in some places felt like it was just clinging to the side of the mountain face. Many first timers over the road refused to look out the side windows when going up the road, before it “flattened out” on gentler slopes of rolling hills. The road led to six other private parcels besides Bob’s. The road was impassable during the winter and Bob had routinely snow-shoed in to make sure the load on the cabin roof was not too heavy. While the state highway could be seen from a few vantage points in the area, the spot was secluded due to the steep brush covered slopes and its location across a major river from the highway.
Bob had made the trek up the mountain and used his bulldozer to push the snow off the road. It had taken a fair amount of the precious remaining diesel, mixed liberally with sunflower oil, but he thought it was worth the effort. Pushing most of the snow off the road allowed them to make the move about a month sooner than waiting for the snow to melt on its own.
Bob’s forty acres abutted the national forest on one side. On one of the other sides was a forty acre parcel whose owners had never been seen in the twenty years Bob had owned his place. The property on the other two sides was owned by a snowbird couple. They had not returned to the mountain since the crash. Two of the other homes were occupied: one by an elderly woman who had lived there for sixty years; “and I’m going to die up here, by God”, she said; first arriving on the mountain as a young newlywed. She was grudgingly helped by a grandson who was torn between duty to Grandma and the lure of an area with more people. The other home was occupied by a couple that had escaped the rat race and had been homesteading for about ten years.
The cabin was in a vegetation transition zone where the sagebrush stingily gave way to light pine forests, with a good mixing of the two. There were heavy concentrations of thorn brush, alder and choke cherry mixed in. The ground was very steep in some places; other places were gradual sloping, covered in low grasses and patches of brush. Two spring fed creeks flowed through Bob’s property; both fed into cisterns that sent piped water to the tillable areas. Over the years, Bob and Cal with some occasional help from the rest of the family had run water lines to the open gentle slopes, creating irrigated meadows during the summer. Bob had also purchased a big pile of sprinkler pipes at a farm auction. He had a double row of sprinkler lines around the cabin area that he kept green and succulent in the summer in case of wild fires. Bob had always grown a nice garden at the site, but once the crash hit, the family had increased its size substantially and grew a large amount of their produce in the surrounding meadows. A barn had been added early on where Bob kept his small bulldozer and Ford 9N tractor. After the crash hit, Bob and Bill had built a second barn to be ready if they ever had to take the livestock up.
One of the cisterns piped water to a building next to the cabin. Inside it was a small hydro-generator that charged a bank of batteries. It didn’t produce a large amount of power but had always produced more than was needed for Bob’s needs when he stayed at the cabin. Another buried water line ran from a spring-box to the cabin to provide clean drinking water. The cabin itself was a single bedroom when Bob purchased it. The family had built onto it, adding four bedrooms and a larger kitchen – dining area. Travel trailers had been pulled in and set up to be the bedrooms for everyone else. It wasn’t ideal living conditions, but it would work.
*****
The line of pickups moved up the highway without problems into the town of Horseshoe Bend, roughly the half-way point. The town had been populated with a large number of commuters that drove across the hills to their jobs in the city. After the crash, the population had dwindled to a small number of highly self-sufficient individuals and families. They provided what they could to the sheriff so he could continue to keep tabs on the county.
Few people were out as the group went through town, but those few that were looked at the line of vehicles with interest. As Bob came to the sheriff’s office, he braked to a stop when he saw the sheriff’s pickup parked out front. Bob and Cal had fostered good-will with the sheriff; they had come to him with material and equipped his pickup with a wood gasifier. They wanted to do what they could to keep the route to the cabin as safe as possible, and what better way than guarantee the sheriff could still get around the county.
That first gasifier had led to a large number being made until there were no scrap tanks or pipe to be had in the town or the surrounding farms. The people were extremely grateful, being able to run much of their machinery while so many elsewhere were idled without fuel.
When Bob entered the office the sheriff looked up and smiled in recognition and stood up from his desk, offering his hand. “Bob,” he said, “Good to see you. Is it moving day?”
“Hi Joe,” Bob said, taking the sheriff’s hand and shaking. “Yep, we’re going up today with everyone and the livestock.” Bob stopped in each time he went through town, checking on the general status of the area and sharing his plans and any news with the sheriff.
“What about Bill? Is he with you?”
“No. We buried him yesterday,” Bob answered softly.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Joe said. “He was a good man. I don’t know what would have happened to everyone up here if he hadn’t gotten all of that gasifier information that you guys shared with us. Not to mention his greenhouse ideas and off-season harvesting.”
“Thanks Joe. He would tell you that none of those ideas were his own; he was just drawn to it by God. But I know a lot of the stuff was his adaptations and some of the stuff he came up with on his own. We sure will miss him.” After a bit of silence, Bob asked, “So how do things look here and up-country? Anything we need to be concerned about?”
“Well, we had a real gulley-washer a few days ago but I haven’t been up that way since. It caused some washing and slides around here. There’s a good chance you might run into a slide where that fire cleared off the hillside a couple years ago. Other than that, things have been pretty quiet.”
“Sounds good, Joe, thanks, I appreciate the information. I better not stay around and chat. If we have some road to clear it might make for a long day.”
Joe accompanied Bob outside and looked at the line of pickups and trailers. He saw Amanda and Brad where they were checking on the livestock after making sure the rest of their and Bob’s loads were secure. He nodded in their direction and asked Bob “Those are Bill’s kids aren’t they?”
“Yep. And you won’t find two better kids anywhere. If I’d have had kids of my own, I could only hope they would’ve been near what those two are. They’re holding up pretty well considering. It’s a heck of a burden that’s been laid on their shoulders.
“Well, we better get going. You make it up our way, I’m sure we’ll have a pot of soup on if not something else. You’re welcome anytime. I probably won’t be back this way for a few weeks.”
“Alright”, Joe said. “You guys take care and drive careful. I’ll swing up the hill next time I’m up your way.” They shook hands again and everyone got back into the pickups. Alan and Jim had also been checking loads, making sure nothing had shaken loose.
Bob led off the group again and once they were underway he took his CB radio mike and let everyone know what Joe had said. Besides the CB’s mounted in each pickup, they had three portable CB’s and ten FRS radios. They kept all of the radio batteries charged with solar chargers, although the charges didn’t last near as long as they used to. Bob drove slowly up the river canyon, avoiding as many of the broken spots as he could easily. As he went around a bend in the road and looked ahead, he let out a groan. Sure enough there was a slide. He radioed to everyone what he saw: a patch of mud, rocks, and brush with at least two large pine trees. The slide was at least forty feet across. He called for everyone to grab shovels and for Alan to bring the cross cut saw. They had some hard work to do before going any farther.
Everyone joined in and started digging. Being too crowded for everyone on one side, Bob and Alan managed to make it through the mud at the lower section of the slide so they could dig from the opposite side. Ken and Jim picked up the cross cut and waded into the muck. The sucking action of the deep mud engulfed their lower legs and tried to pull the boots off their feet with each step. Mud past their knees and breathing deeply, they made it to the first pine tree. After catching their breath they started cutting the tree into manageable sections. “Man, what I wouldn’t give for some good chainsaw gas about now,” Jim said between strokes with the saw.
Despite the cool temperature, jackets were quickly shed under the effort of digging the muck. In no time at all, the sticky clinging mud was coating boots, pant legs shovel handles, hands. Brad went back to the trailer and found some empty five-gallon buckets that he could use to carry mud off the side of the road. After a fair amount of mud had been moved, Brad called for some help. “I need a couple of you to give me a hand rolling these rocks out of here. They’re bigger than I can handle.” Amanda couldn’t resist the comment and started to clap for Brad.
“Bigger than I can handle” was an understatement. The largest rock required the winch on Bob’s pickup to drag away. The rest were moved out of the road with three people straining and pushing on them.
It took nearly three hours to get a track through the slide wide enough to drive through. A tired, muddy crew went to where Amy had set two buckets of water with the instructions: the first bucket is to get most of the easy mud off, the second bucket is the rinse water. Still, the second bucket was full of grime when it was dumped and packed away. With everyone’s hands somewhat clean, Frances passed around bags of dried fruit for a snack. Amanda decided the group needed a pick-me-up now and went to her backpack and pulled out her stash of Hershey Bars, then went back to the group and started breaking them; a half bar for each person.
“Is that what I think it is?” Amy, a devoted choc-oholic asked. “Where have you been hiding those? Don’t you know you shouldn’t keep secrets from your mother?”
“Where you couldn’t find them, obviously. Dad thought you might need an emergency infusion someday so he let me know where he kept the real crisis food. It just seemed like this is a good time.”
The chocolate had a white powdery outer layer from being in storage for so long. Some of them were globs, some sticking to the wrappers from melting in hot weather but no one complained; it had been a long time since they had eaten a candy bar.
A half hour later, after no further delays, the family turned off the highway to begin the slow trek up the mountain road. There had been two more minor slides on the highway, but they could be driven around and through. Bob stopped and everyone put the drivetrains into four wheel drive. As they drove up the hill, they encountered a few patches of snow that remained in the shady sections. They were able to drive right over them since Bob had run the bulldozer through it. The water bars Bob kept in the road had done their job, diverting most of the water from the recent rainstorm and melting snow. Some of them were shaved off when the stock trailer crossed, the wheels dropping into the ditch while the back end scoured away the top level of dirt and rock. There were places where accumulations of forest litter and rocks would need cleared later, but the vehicles were able to make it through.
At last they reached the cabin and parked and everyone got out. Ken backed the trailer to the pen next to the stock barn. The women went to the cabin to get the fire started and start heating wash water and a meal. Amanda stayed at the trailer and helped get the stock unloaded, penned and settled and the chickens moved into the barn. Bob and Brad walked the fence from opposite directions after making sure the solar fence charger was operating to check for shorts in the line or breaches wild animals might have made. Once the fence was given the okay, they straggled wearily to the cabin, anxious to wash, get into clean clothes, and fill their stomachs.
Amanda lingered at the barn, absently scratching the old milk goat Mischief and looked slowly around. She would give the animals a chance to get settled better while she cleaned up and ate before she came back and did the evening milking. She had a wide view down toward the river canyon and the hidden highway. The tree covered slopes behind her were showing lengthening shadows as evening was rapidly approaching. It comes on so much faster up here. She pulled her jacket tighter and closed the zipper to the top. She had gone to the cabin many times with her father for various activities: cutting firewood, working in the garden, hunting elk, family picnics, but she had never anticipated that she would one day call it home. It would be so strange, living there without her dad. Every memory she had about the place was associated with him. But he was gone, and Mark, was, well, he was so far away now. As she looked out across the hills; not registering the majesty before her; she wiped away a tear and thought of everything had transpired to bring them all there.
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Post by bretf on Jun 25, 2016 11:58:18 GMT
Part II: Bill’s Tale Chapter 5: Brigham Young
Brigham, Brigham Young It’s a miracle he survived With his roaring rams and his pretty little lambs And his five and forty wives.
Number forty five’s about sixteen Number one is sixty and three Along such a ride how he ever keeps them quiet Is a downright mystery to me.
For they cackle and crow and they jaw jaw jaw Each one has a different desire It would aid the renown for the best shop in town To supply them with the half they require.
“Brigham Young” Performed by Rosalie Sorrels Written by Rosalie Sorrels
Thursday, September 11, 2013 Bill had just completed his latest project and decided to go on the web for a bit before starting on his next job. He wanted to go on the fish and game website and see if there was any information on chukar counts – the season was opening in a little over a week; and he also wanted to see if there was anything worth reading in the news. It was September 11th and he was sure the news would be dominated by stories commemorating the 2001 bombings, but there might be something of interest to see. He was still embittered at each news story of another of America’s bravest dying in Afghanistan when most of the bombers had been Saudis. That is, when he could find the real news that was hidden behind all of the mind numbing pabulum from Hollywood. Oh Well, that’s our modern culture for you. Hadn’t one of the presidents made a great show of proclaiming victory years ago, yet our forces are still over there? I have all the respect in the world for the people on the ground there, but I sure question the reasoning of the ones that make the decisions to send them over.
Bill opened the browser to Fox News and saw a distressing photo that dominated their home page. It was the front of a supermarket with a large section of the front missing, thick black smoke boiling out of the opening, fire fighters spraying water into it. It was accompanied by the headline “Apparent Firebomb at Waterloo, Iowa Wal-Mart”. He clicked on the story and began reading the very incomplete early account of what authorities believed happened and the suspected injuries and damage. There were thumbnails for a number of other photos attached to the story. It was bedlam. Numerous photos showed medics attending injured shoppers. It was reminiscent of the triage scenes from the old MASH television show. After being pulled totally into the news, Bill promptly forgot about the upcoming chukar hunting season.
Bill was nearing the end of the news story when the browser refreshed and a new photo appeared with a headline in bold red copy: “Second Supermarket Bombed” with the tagline indicating a store in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico had just been bombed in the same manner as the Waterloo store. He noted wryly that Fox had dropped the “apparent” from the headline. Was the change because of information from the scenes or an executive decision by Fox? He opened the story and quickly scanned it, noting the similarities to the other bombing. Details were still scarce, but there were enough from each location to determine they could very well have been coordinated attacks. “Lord, they’re at it again,” he thought, “And I think they might have raised the ante in the game.” He continued reading with a sickening feeling rising inside him, a feeling of empathy for those hurt and a nagging feeling of dread about what it all meant. He also felt extreme anger for the perpetrators. Jesus had said to love his enemies, but man, they just made it so hard.
Bill clicked back to the Fox News homepage and linked to the live streaming thread and switched from his ears buds to his external speakers. While the page was loading he said, “Hey guys,” over the room divider to his co-workers. “There’ve been some stores bombed.”
“Bombs? Where?” Steve asked as Greg was saying something at the same time Bill couldn’t make out. “Waterloo, Iowa and Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. Hold on, I’ve got the news coming on to streaming,” he said as he adjusted his speakers so everyone could hear. The guys got quiet as they listened to the disturbing news, making curses at the perpetrators quite regularly as events unfolded. The news wasn’t good. Whoever had set the bombs had done a very thorough job of it, the entire front of the stores engulfed as well as the back entrances. Bill’s feeling of dread strengthened as he listened to the news report. It began to overwhelm his thinking to the point he could no longer concentrate on what the news was saying. He stopped listening and concentrated, mentally arranging his thoughts; then turned to his shelf and pulled out a binder. He often carried it with him between home and work and added to it constantly from items he found on the internet. He thumbed through the dividers to the section labeled “Emergencies”. He opened the section and began to read through the material he had put together over the years.
*****
Bill had once been accused of being a survivalist by his friend Steve at work. Steve had been telling Bill all about his Saturday golf game and the NASCAR race on Sunday when he asked Bill what he had been up to over the weekend. Bill told him he had canned a few things from his garden and tried to leave it at that, but then Steve asked, “So what are you, one of those nut job survivalists that are planning on sitting out the end of the world in your bunker?”
Bill groaned. Of course all of the information Steve had about people that didn’t rely solely on grocery stores and restaurants was from that TV show where those fools went on and showed the world everything they had. Bill had never watched it but he had heard it didn’t portray survivalists and preppers in a flattering way. “Survivalist, what are you talking about? I just like to grow as much of my own food as possible and save some for eating later. The Good Lord gave me a curiosity to learn how to do for myself and I sure don’t want to argue with Him. Besides it tastes so much better than that stuff you eat that was trucked in from Mexico, and I know what’s in the food I grow. I’m sure not in a hurry to poison my family with all of the chemicals that the big ag-companies are polluting your food with. All that goes in my veggies is sunshine, water and good old chicken manure,” he said with a smile. I sure can’t explain cost savings to someone that eats out two meals every day. Getting what I did from Mom and Dad’s garden was the only way I made it through the lean times.
Another friend, Greg who had been listening to the conversation and was a Latter Day Saints jumped in, “No, Steve, Billy’s not a survivalist; he’s just a good Mormon, working on his two years supply.”
Bill wanted to move the conversation away from him possibly being a prepper so he answered Greg, “You know, I admire and respect many of the things you Mormons do, but I just can’t believe in a faith that was started by such a lunatic.” Not to mention there some doctrinal issues too but I’ll keep those to myself right now.
The reaction Bill had hoped for was immediate. Greg naturally took offense at the remark and demanded “And just what do you mean by that?”
“Well,” Bill said with a twinkle in his eye, “You know I love women, but only a lunatic would think he could be happily married to more than one at the same time, let alone thirty-something.” Bill took a wild guess at the number of wives Joseph Smith had taken. “It’s one thing to admire them, but to come home to a whole houseful every night? That’s not for me. And then there were what, fifty or sixty that Brigham Young had. That guy had to be a total nutcase; either that or he was stone deaf. Shoot, it’s a full time job for me with just one wife.”
“Boy, you aren’t kidding there,” Greg began, eagerly jumping on the change of subject. He was currently unhappily married to wife number two, both “sealed in the temple”. Bill had no idea what that even meant, but he was pretty sure it didn’t necessarily mean longevity.
Greg barely stopped for a breath. “Wait till you hear what my wife pulled last night. You won’t believe this crap.” Bill smiled inwardly at getting the conversation away from his busy weekend. And they don’t know the half of it. I guess next time I’ll just tell them I tinkered in the kitchen all weekend. Greg and Steve started trading gripes about their wives spending too much money, and making demands of them.
Bill thought to himself as he slipped away from the two, leaving them to their complaining, just how glad he was that he was married to his best friend. He and Amy might not see eye to eye on everything but they were always able to discuss issues together and come up with agreements that both could accept. He actually felt sorry for Greg and Steve that they found the need to gripe about their wives. It’s too bad they can’t have honest open discussions with their wives and work that stuff out instead of airing their dirty laundry.
Bill truly didn’t consider himself a prepper, much less a survivalist. I’m just trying to be as self-sufficient as I can like I grew up, but he had worked diligently on his garden and the chicken flock, adding milk goats and honey bees to his place when he was able. At the same time he continued to read and research other aspects of self-sufficiency, but with money always tight for his growing, active family, he didn’t jump full into everything. He did regularly check on Craigslist for certain building materials for projects he hoped to build, purchasing them when the price was right, and picking up some items at the local auction house. Amy had accused him of never passing a barrel or piece of PVC pipe without getting lustful looks in his eyes.
Something else that kept Bill focused on self-sufficiency rather than jumping into full prepper mode was certain members of his family that lived in the same neighborhood. His brother Alan was among the many people who decided that once Barack Obama was elected access to guns and ammunition would become threatened for the general public. So Alan began purchasing ammunition at every chance he got and added a few guns he had wanted. He had purchased so much ammo, that when the shortages began following the Sandy Hook shooting, accompanied by the gun control talks, Alan had no need to add any more to his stock. Barring all-out war, he was stocked for life with plenty to share.
And then there was Jim! In a family of gun owners, Alan’s oldest son was considered a full-on gun nut. Jim had been fascinated with guns at a young age and that fascination had only intensified as he grew. Once he started working he spent nearly all of his paycheck on different guns and the ammo for them. When his best friend tried to get him to start dating, his stock answer was “I don’t have any money for a girlfriend. Once I get all of the “toys” I want, then I can start looking for the right girl.” He stuck with that strategy until one day he saw a young woman in his favorite gun shop. She was deftly handling an SKS rifle and asking the salesman about accessories. Jim already had four SKS’s so he was more than happy to lend his opinion. The two of them left the store together to go shooting and he had been wrapped around her finger ever since. He decided he had enough weapons and ammo collected to keep him satisfied – at least until it was time to pick out his bride’s annual birthday and Christmas gifts - and settled contentedly into marital bliss.
For his part, Bill had his basic guns: a big game rifle, 12ga shotgun, a pistol and two 22 rifles. For his preferred hunting methods he also had a muzzleloader and a longbow. He kept enough ammo on hand for hunting and a little plinking but not much beyond that. He knew he should probably have more but held back after a conversation with Jim.
“Hey Jim,” Bill said, “I’m thinking about getting one of those so-called assault rifle. What do you recommend?”
“Well, that depends, what do you want if for? Do you want it for just fun shooting, hunting, or what?”
“I want to have one at hand for emergencies, home defense type stuff.” Bill answered. “I don’t want one for hunting; I’d rather rely on marksmanship than one of your drum magazines for elk.” Jim took a lot of good-natured teasing about needing a full ammo can just for one deer. “And I’m too cheap to go run through thousands of rounds of ammo just for fun. I don’t see a lot of promise in the direction our economy is headed. So I just want the rifle and ammo for regular practice and a good supply of ammo if the world goes haywire.”
Jim took about thirty seconds to think, and then said, “Come with me.” He took Bill into his spare bedroom and started opening gun safes and taking out rifles. “Okay, which ones do you want to borrow?”
“Huh, what are you talking about,” Bill asked?
“Well, you know I love to collect guns, but other than the Barrett and the Uzi, there isn’t anything special about these. I just like them, and the different versions. So here’s my deal: I’ll loan you enough of these for your family, but only after I’ve taken all four of you out and taught you everything about them. Then we’ll all go shooting every couple of months. That way you stay proficient with them. They’ll still be mine, just kept somewhere else. If your emergency ever happens, we all have to stick together and I can’t use all of these guns. Unlike the movies where Arnold carries twelve different guns, I would prefer to have one gun and twelve magazines. Well, and a pistol too I guess, but anyway. I would much rather have the other guns in use helping protect the family than getting dusty in the safe. I have enough AK’s or SKS’s now that you could each have one, then all of the magazines and ammo would interchange. If you wanted the AR, then you are getting into different ammo, although its ammo fits the Ruger Mini 14. Personally, I would recommend you take those four AK’s to make everything simpler for you. They might be a little big for Brad and Amanda but they’ll grow into them. So what do you think? Oh yeah, you need to get the ammo for whichever you choose. I only have about five thousand rounds on hand.”
“Only five thousand?” Bill had laughed, thinking about the two twenty-round boxes of 30:06 he had been using for the last five years. And then he said, Wow, Jim. I’d be pretty foolish to turn that deal down.” So he had given Jim money for more ammo, learned all he could about the AK’s with the rest of his family and taken four to store in his gun safe. Brad was pretty small for shooting them, but he learned to dis-assemble and re-assemble faster than anyone else in the family. After the first day of shooting, Bill could see how easy it would be to get hooked and run up a big bill on shooting. No wonder Jim waited so long to get married.
Bill borrowed the guns and locked them up in his gun safe. Then he went outside and weeded the garden. No, he didn’t consider himself a survivalist.
*****
Bill did a thorough review of his “Emergencies” information, put a marker in the page and closed his binder. He went to his supervisor’s office and tapped on the open door as he entered the room. “Hey Tom”, he said, “I finished up that project I was on and I was hoping to get the rest of the afternoon off.”
Tom looked up from the papers he had been reviewing and acknowledged Bill, then pulled out his production schedule and scanned it. “Yeah, that’ll be alright Bill,” he said. “It looks like we’re ahead of things right now. You wanting to do something fun?”
Bill didn’t want to seem like an alarmist or reveal too much of what he was going to be working on. I could always be way off on this anyway. If it does escalate, I‘ll talk to everybody about getting some things set aside. I don’t think they would pay any attention now. And I sure don’t want to hear their “I’ll just come to your house” nonsense.
“Turn your radio on. Some lowlifes have bombed a couple of grocery stores to celebrate 911. I’m not sure I could concentrate on work while I’m listening to it and I want to be fair to you. Plus I’ve got a few things I want to pick up before I make it home this afternoon.”
“Those dirty rat–bags!” Tom exclaimed, coming to an immediate conclusion. “You want to make any bets on their religion? Just when will the stooges in Washington learn those curs aren’t coming to our country to embrace us and our way of life. Our borders should have been tightened up a long time ago. And they should have rounded up every one of them after the Boston Marathon and kicked their collective butts right back to where they came from. So where’d they do it?”
While Bill explained what he knew at that point, Tom leaned over and turned his radio on. Bill cringed at what he might hear, but Rush Limbaugh’s over the top ranting had been replaced by another man; one that was covering the bombings. Bill thanked Tom and excused himself and returned to his desk.
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Post by bretf on Jun 25, 2016 12:14:35 GMT
Chapter 6: Hold it up to the Light Now as soon as I'm moving - my choice is good This way comes through right where I prayed that it would If I keep my eyes open and look where I should Somehow all of the signs are in sight If I hold it up to the light
I said God, will you bless this decision? I'm scared, Is my life at stake? But I see if you gave me a vision Would I never have reason to use my faith?
“Hold it up to the light” Performed by David Wilcox Written by David Wilcox
Bill returned to his desk and resumed looking over the information in his binder. As he looked over the material, he began to put small check marks by the items he felt he had covered and highlighted the items that he knew he was lacking. Then he consolidated much of the information into a needs list and prioritized it. Bill had his priority list mostly arranged when he heard Greg loudly exclaim “Those dirty rotten camel-jockeys!” He instantly pulled his attention back to the news and checked the screen. Another store had just suffered the same fate as the previous two, this one in North Hollywood, California. Bill read the latest posting then bowed his head, closed his eyes, and clasped his hands together and began to pray. He prayed for healing and comfort for those affected by the devastation as well as for their families. He prayed for skill and knowledge for the care givers. He prayed for safety for the emergency personnel on the scenes. He prayed for guidance on his own thoughts and actions. Then he prayed for the wrath of a vengeful God on the perpetrators of the day’s activities. He was still struggling with “love your enemy”. He prayed that his own family would remain safe in the midst of the craziness. After he finished praying, Bill looked back to the list before him with a new clarity and resolve he had not had before. He turned to another section in his binder and found the phone number for his financial advisor. He muted his speakers; Greg had turned his computer to live streaming. Bill punched in the phone number and waited while the line rang. “Good afternoon,” a cheery voice answered. “This is Gretchen, thank you for calling Bradford investments. How may I help you?” “Hi Gretchen,” Bill said. “This is Bill Moser; I need to talk to Jack please.” “He is on another line right now. Can I take a message for him?” “Sure,” Bill replied. “Please let him know that I need him to cash out my IRA today, pay the taxes and penalties and get everything that’s left into my bank account.” “Ohh-kay….” Gretchen replied, not nearly as cheery. “I think you will have to discuss that directly with Jack.” “All right, but he needs to call me within the next few minutes. I’m going to be unavailable for the rest of the day,” Bill answered. “You have a good day, Gretchen, and I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and studied his list planning out the rest of his day. He wondered just how irritated Amy was going to be at him for closing his IRA. Please Lord, give me the right words to make her understand and accept this when I tell her. She was always urging him to contribute more to the account and his 401K. He countered to her that his garden and everything associated with it was his retirement fund, besides it was better to go into retirement with no debt. It had remained a sticking point for them, neither able to sway the other. So he contributed some to retirement savings, but also put money toward his projects as he was able. He would like to cash out the 401K also, but reasoned at this point if the bombings did not lead to an escalating problem, he would still have that account. If the violence did intensify, the account he was closing should finance everything on his priority list barring a sudden total collapse. Bill could pretty much anticipate how the conversation with Jack was going to go. Once Jack had someone’s money invested, it was extremely difficult to get him to relinquish it. He held onto investments like a dog held onto a fresh bone. He used all of the reasoning he could come up with: not enough money at retirement, extra taxes now, penalties, loss of earning power, a down market and laced it with as much emotion, doom and gloom as he could muster. Jack was generally very persuasive: he could paint a mental picture of his clients ending up destitute on the streets that made many of them change their mind and allow the money to stay in place. In a short time Jack returned Bill’s call – he was always quick to return calls when someone wanted to do what he didn’t want - and it went pretty much as Bill had envisioned. Bill stood his ground however; he didn’t make up a story nor did he tell Jack his reasons, just stressing to Jack that it was vital that he had his funds. He would, however, re-establish another IRA at his earliest opportunity. Eventually, Jack grudgingly relented and began the process to liquidate the account. When the conversation with Jack was finished, Bill found the phone number and called his family doctor. He asked for an appointment at the earliest convenience and was able to schedule one for the following week. He asked about Amy’s annual visit and found she was close enough that they scheduled her for the slot following his own appointment. Bill finished the call and wondered if he would be able to convince Amy to keep the appointment. “I just need to trust in God’s guidance,” he thought, “And that the right words will come to me.” Bill looked back at the news to see if there was anything new, and then turned in his binder to the “Gardening” section. He found the page with his seed inventory he had compiled during the summer and started making notes on a scratch paper. He tried to keep at least two years’ worth of seed on hand but some varieties had dropped below that level after planting his garden and hadn’t been replenished. He turned to another page titled Amounts of Vegetables to be Grown and Preserved for a Family of 4 Persons and thought about quantities and decided that if the bombings escalated two years supply of seed wasn’t enough. He thought long about what would happen in the neighborhood if the local stores were destroyed or shut down. Finally he started calculating the quantities he thought he would need of each variety. After compiling a partial shopping list based on the first chart, he turned to two other charts that contained vegetables that weren’t all listed on the first chart. The first chart he referenced was the fall-winter planting guide. Ever since he had discovered Elliot Coleman’s books and articles he had been inspired to expand his gardening. Mr. Coleman was harvesting fresh vegetables year around in Maine, without heated greenhouses. Although Bill was a long way from obtaining the kind of results as Mr. Coleman, he had made modest gains each winter. A fair number of his plants had overwintered – with one winter being exceptionally harsh for the region. He allowed as many plants as possible to develop seed that year. He was slowly adding more seed from plants that could survive the winter weather. territorial.commercev3.com/lettercast/b_lc.php?c=E__IeaOUA www.territorialseed.com/product/14108 Going through the three separate charts was pretty time consuming. He mentally kicked himself for never putting all of the information together in an excel spread sheet. If he had just done that, it would only require a few numbers of in-put to show him how much seed he needed. Oh well, live and learn. Once his notes were complete, Bill opened the web site of his favorite online seed company and began pulling up seed types and filling a shopping cart. He stuck to heirloom seeds on everything but had a mental battle with himself at the sweet corn. He was very fond of one of the sugar enhanced hybrids and would like to have some of it, but for this order he stuck with heirlooms only. The old corn was good, Dad just always said to have the water boiling before you went to pick it. The heirloom seeds would produce plants that would be the same as their parents, unlike hybrids that crossed different varieties. Bill had been working at saving seeds for a few years. Most of his annuals were from his own seeds, but he was still having trouble with some bi-annual crops. He had managed to get some seed, but for the most part it seemed his storage conditions were never just right for holding them over the winter. Carrying the vegetables over was critical, as they produced seed the second year. “That has to be remedied if this escalates and things start to unravel,” he thought. “I guess I’ll have to be more careful about fencing off sections and turning the chickens in the garden in for the winter.” So his order, while covering a lot of crops, was heavy in bi-annuals. One thing he was hoping for but could not get was asparagus crowns. They were sold out for the year and would not have any more until spring. Well, if I can still order in spring, I’ll get some then. Instead, he ordered enough seeds to plant a large field. Bill liked asparagus and other plants in its special category; plant once, harvest for years. Besides asparagus he had artichokes, rhubarb, grapes, berries, fruit trees, walking onions and oregano that provided each year from the same established plants. Every year he tried to add more to that category. The artichokes were something he had enjoyed experimenting with. While they sold locally as annuals, he knew they were perennial in California. But they didn’t overwinter in his climate. So he tried to fence around them and add a thick insulating layer of leaves over them each fall. He had achieved about 75% carryover –w hen I can keep the chickens from messing with the leaves – and was able to harvest much sooner on the established plants than with new replacement plants. Besides vegetables, he ordered a large amount of a variety of green manure crop seed. His current garden was fertilized with composted manure from the chickens and goats. If he had to expand his growing, he reasoned that the soil would need more nutrients than he currently had available. After he completed his order he lowered his head to ask the Lord’s blessing once again on his actions. The final amount owed just about floored him. Well, one more thing to include in the Amy talk tonight. If the other stuff won’t make her think I’ve gone over the deep end, this just might do it. But if the power stays on and I can freeze all of this, I don’t think I’ll ever have to buy another seed. With that thought he clicked the “Confirm Order” button. He went to two other seed company websites before he was done. One was a small company he had found that sold heirloom field corn – wasn’t that an endangered species in the modern farm world. The other company sold mangle seed. The large beets had high sugar content and made great winter stock feed. He had grown some of each the last two years for his animals since it was getting so hard to find non-genetically modified organism feed around home. Bill just couldn’t bring himself to trust that stuff. It seemed wrong to introduce botulism to the seed to break down their barriers, and then flood the feed with glyphosate. He just couldn’t do it, wouldn’t use it, not for the animals that produced his family’s food and especially not for his family. After those two orders he looked at some of his collected material in his binder for a bit more and thought. “Oh why not,” he finally said and found a company where he ordered hoop house poly cover. If he needed to provide all of his family’s food, the greenhouse-like hoop houses would be invaluable. They could be erected with a lot less labor and material than a regular greenhouse. He had piles of steel and PVC pipe at home that could make ribs to support the poly cover. In a pinch he could use clear visqueen for the cover, but the poly cover was much more durable. The next site he went on was Amazon. He ordered Eliot Coleman’s books on “Four Seasons Harvest”. He had one that Amy had purchased for him on the Kindle, but it was just not the same to him. He liked to hold the book in his hands, put book marks in it and highlight important parts. The Kindle just seemed like more trouble, but he did admit Amy had a lot of information stored in a small package. I’m just too old school I guess. While he was on Amazon, he remembered a blog entry he had read by a man that went by “Ferfal” on the internet. He had gone through the rough times in Argentina when their money became worthless. Someone had asked him what he regretted not having. He had replied that he wished he had more DVDs. They had spent a lot of time inside and he would have liked to have some time fillers. So Bill searched and found a number of videos he added to his cart. A few of the videos were music instruction. He and both kids were playing – to varying degrees – the guitar, fiddle, mandolin and banjo. If they were stuck with lots of time on their hands, he thought playing music would be a great distraction. From another website, he ordered Jackie Clay’s books on canning. What he had seen of one of them, Jackie had a number of meals that she made up and canned and then they were just heat and serve. Jackie had been writing articles and blogs about her self-sufficient lifestyle for years. Bill again referenced the Amounts of Vegetables to be Grown and Preserved for a Family of 4 Persons sheet. After more calculations, he made a search for Tattler lids prices. The Tattler lids were unlike normal canning lids that were thrown away after use. The Tattlers could be re-used. He found a decent – in comparison- price from a company he had ordered from before, so he placed an order for eight cases of twenty four dozen wide mouth lids, and eight cases of regular mouth. Wow, that’s a lot of money, again, but if we are all doing our own food, they will be invaluable.Bill made one more online order; a solar fence charger. He had desired one for years but never felt he could justify the cost. All of his fences were within an extension cord of one of his outbuildings. Well, if I don’t use it at home, I can always take it to Bob’s place and we can use it to keep his garden safe. Bill looked over his priority list and decided he had done what he could from the computer; it was time to go shopping. He looked at the things he wanted to get done before making it home and jotted down his order of stops. Then he compared notes on the stored foods he had at home and did a quick comparison with the LDS worksheet on food storage. www.thefoodguys.com/foodcalc.html His personal list wasn’t up to date, of course, but it gave a reference point to start from. He made some guesses and put together a shopping list. The Mormon Church recommended they have at least two years supply of food on hand. Bill thought about Greg, muttering curses behind him at the news. Greg had confided that he didn’t have anything close to that, in fact he would be lucky to have a month worth of food on hand. “Oh well, to each his own,” Bill muttered. After checking the news-site one final time he shut down his computer and gathered his lunch box and binder and left the office. He had debated whether to go to Costco or Cash and Carry and decided on Cash and Carry. It was about twenty minutes closer, the prices were comparable and it was quicker to get in and out. He liked the large restaurant size quantities sold there, especially for what he had in mind today. Bill owned a small car that got excellent gas mileage that he generally used to commute to work. He also owned a Ford F350 king cab pickup that sucked down fuel like guys at a frat party sucked down booze. The pickup was parked most days but he had driven it that day so he could get chicken and goat feed after work. Providence or coincidence? He definitely didn’t have an answer to that one. He got in and drove to the store. At the store he loaded up heavily on the items from the LDS sheet that did well in long term storage. He bought 400 pounds of cane sugar – I hate to buy cane when so many beets are grown locally, but they made the decision to get in bed with the devil, dang you GMO companies. He found everything on his list and made a large number of spontaneous purchases. Once he was done shopping and had everything loaded, the back seat of the pickup was packed. There’s just enough room for “one thin wafer” he thought and chuckled that that thought would come to him at this time. He was afraid a sudden stop would unload some of the contents into the front seat. Bill got into the driver’s seat and took a long pull from his water bottle, wiped his brow and looked at his to do list, started up the pickup and drove to his credit union. He left the checking account alone but withdrew everything he could from his savings, leaving just the minimum balance. He asked for a large amount of smaller bills. If it came to paying cash for everything he didn’t want to overpay if someone couldn’t make change for large bills. The teller, always chatty, wanted to know what he had planned with all that cash. Bill just grinned and said he was planning to find some real deals over the weekend at yard sales. Frankly, it’s my money and none of your business! And it’s going home to be locked up in the safe.After leaving the credit union he entered the freeway and checked his watch. Amy would be leaving work in a few minutes and picking up Amanda and Brad at school. He debated with himself for a while about calling her. He decided not to. She could stay oblivious to what was happening for a while longer. Once he got home would be soon enough to tell her what was happening and his fears of what it could lead to. T he Bible said you should not fear but put all faith in the Lord. Sometimes that was pretty hard. Okay, then, he would tell her his concerns of what it could all mean. Bill turned the radio on, a 70’s tune blasting from the oldies station, and tuned in the station that carried Fox News and listened to the ongoing reports as he drove. He had exited the freeway and was traveling down the country road through farmland when the news reader issued a breaking news bulletin. Bill let out a rare curse when the report came across. Those dogs did it again. This time they had hit sin city itself; a supermarket in Las Vegas was fully engulfed in flames following an explosion. As the news started to unfold Bill suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Lord, please let Frances be safe. Amy’s sister lived there! Saliva was flooding his mouth as he pulled off the road; he barely made it to the side away from traffic when he began to heave. He emptied the contents of his stomach, sweating heavily, holding the side of the pickup for support. Finally, his stomach empty, the retching stopped; he went to the passenger door and reached in for his water bottle. He rinsed his mouth and spit, and then did it again before swallowing a sip. He dug out a napkin and wiped his face and took several deep breaths. Feeling better, he walked back around the pickup and got in. Maybe I should just turn the radio back off. But he didn’t; he started the engine, listening to incoming reports from each bombing location as he went to the ranch where he bought his grain. The ranch grew a lot of grain and bought grain from farmers in the region for re-sale. They also made regular trips to Walton Foods and brought back truckloads of storage food that was very popular with the local LDS population. Bill went into the office to make his order. Usually he told them what he wanted, wrote a check, and then loaded. Today would be different. “I don’t know how much I want,” he told the woman at the desk. “I want to get a full pickup load of oats, barley, wheat and some home storage food, but I don’t know how much I can carry.” In the past he had also fed corn but he had stopped that when the farmers all switched to GMO. “How about I leave you a signed, blank check, load up, then finish filling out the check at the end?” he asked. “Sure, that’ll be fine. I’ll just give you a note for the guys when they load you.” Bill drove to the building where the bagged grain was stored and they started to load. He kept a careful eye on the space available and the springs. The back end was full with the springs still looking pretty good when he called a stop. I’m glad the guy I bought the pickup from put those overload springs on for his camper.At the storage food building and they filled the remaining space in the cab with twenty five pound bags of pinto beans, rolled oats, hard red wheat, white and brown rice and pearl barley. Bill wrote the check, thinking yet again about the upcoming conversation with Amy. After he heard the news of the latest bombing his resolve had strengthened. He was now sure of the right words coming when he talked to Amy and just hoped she would be strong in the coming days. The front seat was crammed, but Bill had left just enough space to sit. He started slowly for home. “Okay, there might be more weight on here than I thought, this thing is soft on the steering wheel,” he thought as he drove slowly down the road; the rear end was sitting lower than normal, the front lifted. As he drove his mind was running through what else he wanted to get done that night. It might turn out to be a long night, but I don’t want to wait on this. He turned the radio volume down and took out his phone and called Amy. She answered after the first ring and said, “Oh bill, have you had the news on? When are you going to get home? I can’t get ahold of Frances.” ” Wow,” he thought, “ And I was sure she wouldn’t have heard.” “Yeah, I’ve been listening to it. It sounds pretty bad. I would guess that a lot of people are trying to call in and out of Vegas so the lines are overwhelmed. Vegas is a big city. Why don’t you go online and find where the store is in relation to Frances’ house, and her office. At least it will give us a clue on her status. “I’ll be home in about forty five minutes. When I get there I’d like to talk with everybody at Mom and Dad’s. Would you be able to make the calls and see if everyone can get there? I’ll call Bob and Alan but I don’t have anyone else’s numbers. Maybe in about an hour?” “So you think this is going to get worse,” she said quietly, between a question and a statement. “I’m concerned that it might, so I’d like to have the family discuss the possibilities and our options.” “Okay, I’ll try to get ahold of everyone. Be careful out there, and get home safe. I love you.” “Love you too, and I’ll be careful. Bye.” Bill made the calls to his brothers. Alan lived two doors down, across the street from their folks and said he would be there. Bob was already on his way to their parent’s house and would hang around. As the folks were slowed by age, Bob had made himself available to help them out with anything that needed done. This was easier for him, being single and recently accepting early retirement from the revenue-strapped county emergency medical system. At the last gas station before home Bill pulled in to fill up. It was busier than a normal Thursday, more like what he saw at the start of a three-day weekend. Some of the vehicles were loaded as if the drivers had just finished a large shopping trip. The people waiting were all patient, though many had concerned looks on their faces and glanced often at their watches. “Well, I don’t think everyone here are sheeple. It’s nice to see that some people are paying attention,” he thought. One man looked a little closer at Bill’s load and gave him a nod. Once his tank and spare gas cans were topped off he pulled away from the pump island and parked. Then he walked back to Bill to inquire where he had bought the grain and how the prices were. The man wrote it down, thanked Bill and left. A sigh of relief came from Bill as he pulled onto his road. When he stopped in front of his driveway gate, a blind moved in the living room window and Amanda ran out of the house and beat him to the gate. She waved him through, closed the gate then followed as he drove to the feed shed. “What a great girl,” Bill thought, “Lord, I don’t know how I ever deserved those two kids, but I am so grateful to you for them. Now please help me keep them safe.” He nearly started to cry right then, thinking of how wonderful his life had become despite his best efforts to make it otherwise, and to know there were people out there trying to destroy it all. Amanda and Brad were such a pleasure for Bill. He was still shocked that he had such a wonderful wife and children. He had given up on that ever happening.
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Post by bretf on Jun 25, 2016 12:35:10 GMT
Chapter 7: Red Solo Cup
Now a red solo cup is the best receptacle For barbecues, tailgates, fairs and festivals And you, sir, do not have a pair of testicles If you prefer drinking from glass
Red solo cup, I fill you up Let's have a party, let's have a party I love you red solo cup, I lift you up Proceed to party, proceed to party
But I have to admit the ladies get smitten Admiring how sharply my first name is written On you with a sharpie when I get to hittin' On them to help me get lucky
Red solo cup, I fill you up Let's have a party, let's have a party I love you red solo cup, I lift you up Proceed to party, proceed to party
“Red Solo Cup” Performed by Toby Keith Written by Brett and Brad Warren & Brett and Jim Beavers
Bill was forty one years old when he first became a father. He had been married to Amy for a little over two years at the time. That fabulous moment was followed by the birth of Brad nearly three years later. It shocked him to think that everything had come together as it had so many years later than most of his schoolmates and friends. For some reason he could not fathom, God had blessed him although he had taken a rough road to that realization.
Bill was nearly married once before, at the age of twenty. Like so many decisions he had made in that time period, he was just doing something without thinking about it or the consequences of his decisions. He would look on that time period later in life and wonder “Where did my brains go?” He had moved in with a girl he thought was his girlfriend. She wanted more, he didn’t. Why buy the cow when the milk’s free, right? As she pressured him more and more to get married, using every weapon in her arsenal, he relented. Then as the time of the wedding approached, his job needed him to work out of town for a time. Of course he had do go. Needless to say, his decision was not well received. The relationship ended as soon as he told her he had to leave. Later he would reflect on this as one of the luckiest moments of his life. He was going to marry for all of the wrong reasons and would have ended up as just another statistic in divorce court. And her temper! I really wouldn’t want her raising my kids. He also came to realize he most likely triggered that also. She was really a wonderful lady, just not The One.
Looking back, that part of his life seemed to him like it must have been someone else’s life. When he was in his early teens, he had a good idea of what he wanted to do in life and had it all planned out how he was going to get there. He had researched his chosen field, knew where he needed to apply for college and what scholarships would be available; those scholarships would be essential. It would be hard work, but he knew how to accomplish it. Bill’s parents had never had much money, but he never considered them poor. They grew a large garden, raised chickens and beef, milked cows. “Poor people” went hungry. Bill’s family never went hungry; they just didn’t have any spare money. He had grown up with a strong work ethic instilled in him.
Then he had gone to high school, discovered girls and beer and all of his earlier ideas disappeared like burned off fog. He sleep-walked his way through high school without direction, then had gone on to college with no plans or directions. No plans, enjoying beer entirely too much, and he drifted even farther off course. He took a job with a construction crew and loved the money but he managed to spend most of what he made. The job conflicted with school so he never went back – what was the point?
At a party one night he met a girl that he moved in with two weeks later. Life became a cycle of work and party, and then more of the same. When the relationship ended, Bill really didn’t care. There were always more girls at the parties; they loved the guys that earned a paycheck. He was mostly bummed out about the inconvenience of moving. He did good enough at work that he eventually became a foreman of his own crew. Now instead of the guys being his drinking buddies, he had to reprimand them for the same behavior he had enjoyed so much himself. He clashed with his friends and he clashed with his boss while defending his friends. The first time he had to fire a man for unsafe performance, he bought a bottle of whiskey and drank until it was gone. The rotten feeling in his gut from the firing was just pushed aside, but not replaced. The man had a wife and two kids. Bill knew they had lived paycheck to paycheck like most of the people in the trade. Bill woke up with a pounding head and was lucky to make it to the toilet before he started throwing up. Bill became more and m ore morose, spending his free time alone drinking. He managed to be mostly sober for work but his job performance was rapidly plummeting with the rest of his life. If a positive could be found in his life, it was that drinking alone at home cut down on his alcohol bills substantially. He could go through his entire paycheck in a week at the bar. That was much harder to do when buying beer at the grocery store.
*****
Bill woke slowly, his body aching, a rank smell in his nostrils. His mouth had a taste like something had crawled in and died. His head pounding, the odor nearly overwhelming, he tried to open his gummed-up crusty eyes to try to locate the stench. He managed to get his eyes open and could not register what he was seeing. Finally the eyes and brain got in synch and he realized his left eye was seeing an up-close view of rocks and dirt laced with vomit. He retched at the realization that the side of his face was laying in his own vomit. He pushed himself shakily up to his hands and knees, dry heaves wracking his body, lightning bolts of sharp pain stabbing his brain, not registering the rocks scraping raw tracks across his hands. At last his body stopped revolting and he slowly lifted his head to look around. The view spun and he dry heaved again. When the retching stopped he looked around, even slower in an attempt to keep from further upsetting his stomach. “Where in the heck am I?”
He grasped a nearby bush to help pull himself in lurching stages to his feet. His fogged over brain did not register the shiny poison oak leaves as it spread down both arms. Involuntarily, he reached up to rub his gummed up eyes and scrape the crusted vomit from his face. His eyes and face started to itch and burn as he tried to focus on his surroundings. He came to the realization what the bushes were, and stumbled away, his foot rolling on an empty whiskey bottle and falling back to his hands and knees. He jammed his wrist, pain shooting up his right arm as he fell against some lava rocks. “Dang rocks,” he exclaimed as another one ripped the knee out of his pants and cut a long gouge through the skin. He struggled to his feet again, dizzy, barely managing to stay upright, but mindful of rocks and anything else that might trip him.
Slowly as he looked around at the rocks and bushes surrounding him he registered the sound of running water. He turned to it and a slow to form realization came to him. “The Snake River? What the heck am I doing here?” His face and arms burning and itching, he found a track that led to the water and started down it, stumbled, and then tumbled down the embankment into the water. As he went under, he cracked his bleeding knee on a rock at the water’s edge. Gasping and sputtering he got his head out of the water and grasped the rock. He hung on and got his breathing under control and his thoughts back in line. Dang this water is cold. Despite the cold, he remained there, the cold water soothing the burning in his arms and knee and his pounding head. He remained there clinging to the rock until his body began to shake from the cold. After cleaning his face the best he could, he crawled on hands and knees out of the water, a jolt of pain shooting up his arm each time his weight rested on his jammed wrist, quickly echoed by the lacerated knee. There was a pile of driftwood nearby so he crawled to it and found a stick that would serve as a staff. He pulled it free of the pile, stood it on its end and began to try to get upright. His knee threatened to buckle at any moment and his wrist was nearly useless, but he struggled to a standing position.
The embankment Bill had rolled down was about twelve feet high, and with the aid of the staff he managed to stagger to the top, falling once. He let out a cry of pain and cursed the God-forsaken river before he managed to regain his feet. After he was at the top he again tried to figure out where he was. Although his face still burned and he could feel a tightness as it was swelling up, he could see better than he had all morning – or was it still morning?
Stumbling through the brush to the spot where he had awoke; Bill stopped and looked around, searching for anything familiar, anything at all. Something blue caught his eye and he staggered towards it, eventually making out the top of his pickup. He managed to make it to the pickup, and then checked his pockets. Dang, where are the keys? He opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief to find them in the ignition. Bill climbed into the seat and slumped with his pounding head in his hands against the steering wheel. He dozed in that position until the pressure in his bladder aroused him. He half rolled out of the seat and promptly fell to the ground when his stiffened knee refused to bend properly. He retrieved the staff from where he had dropped it and pulled himself to his feet and relieved himself where he stood. The foul taste of vomit in his mouth registered through the pounding in his head, he leaned back into the pickup looking for something – anything – to drink. All he found was a couple of cans of warm beer. He grabbed one and shuffled to the other side of the pickup and opened that door. After a short search, he dug his aspirin bottle out of the jockey box. He fought with the child proof lid, mentally cursing the people that had brought about that change in packaging. Finally, the lid popped off and aspirin showered the ground. He bent, nearly toppling from the bum knee, and picked up four tablets, mixed with a liberal amount of sand and dirt. He popped them in his mouth and took a chug of the beer. The beer hit his churning stomach and immediately made an about face and he heaved it back out onto the side of his pickup. Not just the beer and aspirin, it felt as if he was trying to expel everything he had eaten for the last week. He grasped the side of the pickup to keep from falling while he spewed as spasms wracked his body. When he finished puking, he carefully kneeled to the ground, not able to keep the dizziness away, and located two aspirin, left mostly whole and dry, and popped them in his mouth and chewed them up with a handful of grit and swallowed them dry. With his head pounding and spinning he located the beer can where it had fallen, now just a mass of foam, picked it up and angrily threw it into the brush.
Bill considered the last can of beer, and decided to keep it, stumbled around the pickup again and climbed into the driver’s seat, reclined it and closed his eyes. He passed out rather than falling asleep, but it was rest nonetheless. Sometime later Bill awoke; he had no idea how much later. His head didn’t pound as bad so he was able to string some thoughts together. Whatever he was doing there, he needed to get home, clean up and get some real rest. He started the engine, put it in gear and let the clutch out. Nothing happened. He revved the engine, but the pickup still didn’t move. He put it in neutral, slowly got out, still unsteady on his feet. He carefully lowered himself to the ground while clinging to the door and looked under the pickup. The rear axle was resting on a rock, just high enough to keep one wheel off the ground. Looking carefully, he couldn’t see any other obstructions. He grasped the door and pulled himself upright and returned to the seat, shifted into four wheel drive low range and slowly eased off the rock. A sickening screech of metal on rock sounded but he kept going until the sound stopped and he was clear of the rock. He wanted to just keep driving, but a voice in his mind made him stop and get out and make sure he hadn’t damaged something that would make him regret going on. He eased himself out, walked gingerly to the back and slowly lowered himself to his hands and knees. The knee didn’t make it easy and the jammed wrist barely support him, but he gritted his teeth and fought through the pain. Once on his hands and knees he looked under the pickup and couldn’t see anything that appeared damaged. Lurching back upright, he walked unsteadily to the cab and got back in. Putting the pickup back in gear, he slowly pulled away, not hearing anything to cause concern.
Bill could see faint tracks in the dirt and followed them through the scrub brush, avoiding rocks while the brush scraped the paint on each side as he went. Following the track, he got to what passed as a road in the river canyon, put the pickup back into two-wheel drive and started up the road. He began to recognize landmarks of an area he went to fishing for channel cats. Well, at least I know where I am and how to get home. He drove to a paved road and went to a nearby store. Luckily there was some cash in his wallet, so he went in and purchased bottled water, saltines and more aspirin. The cashier wrinkled his nose and gave him a funny look. If he looked as bad as he felt he could understand it.
Back at his pickup but not getting in he opened the water, rinsed his mouth and spit. He tried just a slight sip and it settled so he climbed into his seat. He slowly ate a saltine making sure each nibble would stay down before having another. After eating three saltines he chanced washing down three aspirin with water. It stayed, but left him unsettled so he didn’t try to eat or drink more right away and started for home. On the way, he occasionally nibbled at the crackers and took tiny sips of water.
Slowly as he was driving, he began to remember the day before. He had gone to work with a better attitude than normal for a change. Things were going well until the company bookkeeper came to the job site. The management group had just been arrested for defrauding customers, all assets were frozen, and the company was officially defunct. As everyone cursed, they picked up their tools and left. Bill had driven to the liquor store, bought a bottle and proceeded to drink himself into ignorance as he mindlessly drove. He wasn’t able to recall going to the river canyon. By the time Bill got to his apartment, his headache was down to a strum rather than a pound and his stomach was much settled. He went in and took a long shower, ate a bowl of soup, took more aspirin and collapsed in bed.
When Bill awoke and looked outside, he saw it was close to night, long shadows being cast by the setting sun. Okay, the drinking is getting out of hand. If I don’t stop now, I never will. He went to the fridge hoping for something to eat. All he saw was an open case of beer. He went to the cabinet and was greeted with one can of sardines and a can of stew. Stew it is. He warmed it in the microwave and sat down to eat and think. A full blown pity party was about to blossom and he was considering how deep he could get into the case of beer when the voice in his head stopped him. Drinking put you here; it’s time for another approach. He looked wistfully at the fridge then filled a glass with water and sat down to figure out how to proceed.
The following morning, Bill showered, shaved and made himself look as presentable as he could. He filed for unemployment, getting all of the information on jobs he could. Unfortunately the recession was getting worse and construction was on life support. He had considered himself lucky to still have a job for some time. Now it was obvious how lucky he had been. He went back home and went online to look at job prospects. As the day drew on, he went to his sister Carla’s house to enlist her help in making a resume. That was something he never had, starting work out of school and never having a need for one.
Bill slipped into a routine; unemployment office looking for job opportunities and online searching. With no prospects, he signed on with a temporary agency taking small jobs as they came. While he still wanted a beer, he didn’t feel like the need to drink into oblivion each day. But he knew if he drank one, it would never be enough. He wouldn’t stop until he passed out. What a contradiction; one beer was both not enough and also too much. So he stopped drinking altogether. His bank account was shrinking; drinking was for guys with money to throw away.
As the bank account dwindled, he came to the decision that given his current situation, without wholesale changes he would soon be broke and homeless. If he didn’t fix it now – right now – he was in for some very tough times. It would be better to go into it as he directed rather than be forced. He thought hard about how he had grown up. Dad never seemed to have extra money, but they always got along fine. The more he thought about it, it boiled down to two main points. Dad did everything possible he could do for himself, not relying on others for services, and made as many things as he could himself, reducing purchases. And all purchases were needs, not wants. Sometimes it was convenient to blur the two, but he was going to have to stick very strictly to the NEED principle.
He made out a budget with expenditures as tight as he could feasibly come up with. The first cuts were easy; the cable went first. It was bundled with his phone line, high speed internet and TV. He really didn’t want a cell phone with the monthly bill, but needed to be reached instantly if a job came his way. So he ditched his old phone and service at the end of the contract and went for a prepaid phone. In place of the internet, he became a regular at the library, using the computers there for job searching. He also read and checked out magazines and movies and books. The library was certainly different than it had been in his youth.
Also cut was his newspaper and magazine subscriptions. He could get magazines at the library, although not always the ones he had subscribed to. Oh well. He had considered keeping the newspaper for the Sunday coupons, but after checking them closely, the majority was for prepared foods. If he bought basic ingredients and cooked himself, he could still save even more than if he bought the coupon items. It just took more time, and he now had that in surplus. He quit eating out, bought basic ingredients and went to produce stands for his fruits and vegetables. If he was going to be out, he made something at home and took it with him to eat later. Though he longed for beer, he continued to refrain from drinking any alcohol, sticking with water and whatever the cheapest coffee was when he went shopping.
The next big item was his pickup – the payment and insurance. He listed it and sold it for less than he owed, leaving him to make up the difference, but it still helped with his cash flow. He couldn’t find a car he could buy for cash, so he bought a slightly used bicycle at a thrift store and began peddling everywhere. Not only was he saving money, he was getting healthier, the beer belly dropping off rapidly with his changes. He found two laptop computer bags at a thrift store, that when combined with some webbing from the Army-Navy Store and some heavy sewing soon became bicycle panniers.
He had never been much for clothes shopping, but now he watched for items his size at thrift stores. He wanted clothes that looked good for job interviews. Most of his wardrobe consisted of worn work clothes.
Another benefit of his changes was the relationship with his family. While he was drunk, he had avoided his family, embarrassed to show them how far he had fallen. Although awkward at first, his parents were happy to have him around; he began working most days in the garden and helped in the hayfields. He was able to stop buying at produce stands. His mom always sent him home with fresh vegetables from the garden.
Occasional temp jobs came to Bill, and less occasional were real job interviews. He stopped looking at jobs just in construction and began filling out applications for any job. He was to the point he needed a job not a career.
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Post by bretf on Jun 25, 2016 12:39:41 GMT
Chapter 8: Busted
I called up my brother to ask for a loan cause I was busted Now I hate to beg like a dog for a bone but I was busted My brother said, "There ain't a thing I can do My wife and the kids are all down with the flu And I was just thinkin' 'bout callin' on you Cause I'm busted
Now I'm no thief but a man can go wrong when he's busted The food that we canned last summer is gone and we're busted The fields are all bare and the cotton won't grow Me and my family's gotta pack up and go I'll make a livin', just where I don't know Cause I'm busted
“Busted” Performed by John Conlee Written by Harlan Howard
Despite all of the spending changes Bill had made, it was not enough. He had been unable to get any steady employment and his savings was continuing to decline. He was running out of options. The apartment would have to go; he just didn’t know where to turn next. He started searching for a studio apartment. He certainly didn’t need the large apartment any longer. About the only good news was his employment benefits had been extended. This really galled Bill. He had finally begun to grow up. He didn’t want to be taking unemployment; he wanted to earn his own way but couldn’t.
Bill was riding his bike to his parent’s house from the opposite direction he normally went when he saw a “For Sale” sign in the yard of a neighbor’s house. What a dump. They better have a low price or they’ll never sell that dog. When he got to his folks place, his dad was hooking the baler to the tractor so he helped get it attached and the power take off hooked up. While his dad checked the twine and put in two new spools, Bill took the grease gun and pumped all of the certs full. Bill watched Cal start baling, and then hooked the trailer to the pickup and drove to the field and began loading the bales. His mom joined him and took over driving so Bill stuck with loading the bales orderly on the trailer. His mind drifted from the mundane repetitive action, and kept going back to the house for sale. He pictured the lay of the property and began to picture it planted with a large garden. He continued to paint a mental picture of the place, where the fruit trees would go, the grape vines, the hen house and pen. The place looked to be about three acres; with proper planning and layout, it could be very productive.
When Bill had stacked the first trailer load of hay and was loading the second, Cal, having finished bailing, joined him at the trailer. As they worked, Bill asked his dad about the neighbor house. “Well, I think the inside looks even worse than the outside. But look close, it’s solid built. The outside just needs cosmetic work. The inside however, needs gutted and totally redone.”
They continued to load hay in silence and drove to the hay yard to unload and stack. “So what are you thinking about that place?” Cal asked.
“I’ve got to get out of the apartment, the rent is killing me. I don’t know how I could ever get a loan to buy that place, not having a job and all. I could do the entire remodel and turn it into a livable house. But I still couldn’t get the loan. Just thinking out loud I guess”.
They got the last bale on the stack and returned to the field for the final load. “What about you make payments to me?” Cal asked. “I could buy it and you could pay me.”
Bill was shocked. “Thanks Dad. I don’t know what to say. But I can’t let you do that. If I can’t get a job, you’d be stuck.”
“Well, some months back I would have let you end up on the streets. You were a drunken jerk. And that was your better side,” he chuckled. “But you’ve changed. Your head had been in the clouds for years; I haven’t known who you were. But this has made you into a better person. I’m betting it sticks this time. Don’t disappoint me,” he looked Bill sternly in the eye.
“Let me throw something else out for you. Consider making a living; not a paycheck. Suppose you can’t find a steady job. Have you noticed how organic produce sells at those Farmer’s Markets now? And free range eggs? There is a real market for good food; people are willing to pay premium prices for it. You could probably make that place pay for itself if you didn’t waste money.” Cal watched Bill’s nod of acknowledgement.
Bill and Cal finished the hay, went to the house and washed up. “I need to run Dad, I’ve going to go to the library and see if there are any new job postings.” Bill said.
“Okay, I’ll see you later. And I’ll look into that house.”
Bill got on his bike, noticing the panniers had been stuffed with fresh produce from the garden. There was enough there to feed him for nearly a week. Thanks Mom.
As he was nearing his apartment to drop off the vegetables, his phone rang. He stopped at the side of the road and got the phone out and looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it. “Hi, this is Bill” he answered.
“Bill, this is Tom Roberts. I work with your brother Bob at the county.”
“Hi Tom, what can I do for you?”
“Bob tells me you’re looking for a job and know something about construction. I’ve been moonlighting on my days off and the thing is getting too big for me. I need some help and Bob said now that you’ve gone on the wagon, you were a good hand”.
There it is again. First Dad says I was a jerk, now Bob recommends me since I’ve quit drinking. I must have really been a piece of work. Maybe it’s good that I don’t remember a lot. “Tom, I would love to talk with you about it. Just tell me where and when.” Bill got the information, pedaled quickly to the apartment and put away the vegetables, then went to Tom’s house.
Tom had a small operation that had continued to grow despite the recession. He did remodel work, handy-man work, and general small construction projects. The job Tom offered was Jack of all trades. Bill would work with Tom on job sites doing all phases of work: rough and finish carpentry, plumbing, electrical, drywall, painting, and roofing. He would learn to do hand drawings; not nearly as detailed as an architect’s, yet with enough detail to pull permits and be fully understandable to perform the work. He would learn Tom’s methods of purchasing. It was an invaluable position that would give Bill knowledge in most every aspect of building with overlap into other industries.
Bill took the job on the spot. The pay was less than he had made in the past but he didn’t care. The way he had changed his lifestyle, he could do quite well with the pay. He started working for Tom the next day. The only drawback he saw was transportation; he would have to carry tools and materials to jobs. He found a bike trailer at a thrift store that would get him by while he saved some money. By the time the weather turned cold, he hoped to have enough saved up to pay cash for a reliable pickup. But no drunken driving this time.
When Bill called his Dad to say he had a job and would like to go ahead and purchase the house he got another surprise. Cal had known about the job offer before Tom had called. Tom had talked to both Bob and Cal numerous times to be sure Bill would be up to the job and be a dependable worker before talking directly with Bill.
Cal made a cash offer on the house that was accepted right away in the down market. Cal closed on the house and Bill moved out of his apartment. When he stepped into the house for the first time, he wondered if he had made a mistake. “Dump” was a kind word for what was behind the walls. He didn’t think animals could live worse than the previous occupants. He wondered if the stench would ever leave, even with gutting the house. But the stench did leave as Bill gutted and rebuild the house. The exterior repairs went fast; the interior not so fast.
Bill continued with his stingy spending habits, sticking to needs only and used that same philosophy on the house. An auction house in town regularly had building products. Bill had priced most of the items he needed for the house at the big box store and had it all written in a pocket notebook. He was able to pick up much of the material he needed for a reduced price, including a full set of kitchen cabinets. They weren’t perfect, but with some effort they turned out fine.
Bill spent all of his free time on the house. He was living in his Dad’s wall tent in the back yard while doing the work. He really wanted to be done before winter. When he saw he would never beat the changing seasons, he made sure he completed the plumbing and the bathroom. He could do one room at a time and make do as needed. With one paycheck he picked up a used woodstove. He had to purchase new triple wall chimney that ended up costing more than the stove, but he gladly paid the price. Every scrap of wood was saved from his job as well as the house remodel and would keep the house above freezing through the winter. He would consider comfort heat the next winter. He also picked up any pallets he saw with a “Free” sign in the warehouse part of town.
By spring, the interior was complete, just in time to work on the ground. During the more mundane parts of Bill’s work, he continually thought about the ground layout and had a full plan when spring arrived. He borrowed his Dad’s tractor, ripper and disc and worked up a section of ground for fruit trees and garden. He laid out areas for the shop-garage he would build and the area he hoped to put up a greenhouse.
One weekend was spent building a simple chicken house and pen. He purchased broiler chicks and Rhode Island Red pullets and a rooster chick from the local hatchery. He spent more than he would have liked and put up strong, tight fences around his pasture area so he could supplement their feed by allowing the chicks to free range. The broilers didn’t grow as fast as they could have if they had been confined and stuffed with feed, but he liked the trade-off of money saved on feed, for in his opinion at least, healthier birds than confined ones. He planted the garden with a wide variety of vegetables, with enough to can or freeze the surplus. He bought a new upright freezer. He bought hundreds of Mason jars at thrift stores. When the chickens were large enough he butchered and froze them. The young pullets had begun to lay eggs. When the garden started producing he began to live mostly on what he produced.
With the garden in control and growing, Bill built the shop - garage with bays to park two cars and that much more area as a work shop. One section was built with heavily insulated walls with closeable vents and shelves to store his canned produce. On one outside wall of the shop, he added a lean-to for wood storage. He went with his Dad and brothers on weekend trips to the mountains and they all got enough firewood for the winter. Bill would have comfort heat that winter.
Having been employed by Tom for a full year, Bill secured his own mortgage and paid Cal for the home on top of the payment’s he had made to Cal for the previous year. Bill tried to pay him more but his dad kept tearing up the checks. Bill’s mortgage was for fifteen years. Each payment he sent on it contained whatever he could afford to pay extra. Some months it was a substantial amount, other months not. He wanted to work as hard as possible to never be faced with losing the home. In the end, his extra amounts cut four years off the mortgage.
When fall came, Bill went elk hunting with Bob and Alan for the first time in many years. Wow, I missed these trips. They had success, getting a spike bull and a three point. They split the meat equally between the three brothers, their folks and Carla. Along with the chickens and garden produce, Bill’s freezer contents looked impressive. The trips to the grocery store would be minimal.
Bill was sitting in his rocker by the wood stove one evening sipping an herbal tea when he reflected on his life changes. He had been on a path of self-destruction when he lost his job. Out of that he had grown and matured. He couldn’t remember being this content since he was a kid. He didn’t feel complete, but he did feel contentment.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 25, 2016 20:09:07 GMT
A long, long time ago, in a forum far away, I opened a thread called “Five Years Later” and began to read. “It's been five years since an EOTWAWKI event. How do you see yourself? What is your living situation? How are you surviving? How has your life changed? Here's my "vision" I continued to read, and that thread wouldn’t leave me alone. When I milked my goat, it stayed with me, and a story began to form in my mind. I had never written anything longer than an essay, always for school, and mostly factual, although I threw a little fiction in here and there. But that was it, and it was decades ago. But I started writing, and with my heart pounding and breathing rapidly, I posted my first ever attempt at real fiction. Tom was a great inspiration for me. Most times he would post comments, and “likes” for what I posted. So I kept on. The story shifted as I went, but stayed true for the most part to the “Five years later” meme. Although I couldn’t start my story there; I had to bring it up to that point. One of my driving forces in writing the story was questions I’d read on forums like this one, and that other one. So, many points in the story were addressing those things. Looking back at the story, I think I could do a better job of it, but oh well. Maybe if I ever get the chance, I’ll change it. But here it is with pretty much all of the warts and poor writing that it had way back then. THANKS TOM!!! More? Please??
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Post by themotherhen on Jun 26, 2016 4:13:32 GMT
bretf, I started reading this story awhile back on PAW, and I'm so glad you brought it over here! You are so good at organizing needed materials and providing for future needs, you have really changed my view of what is important regarding preps. Thank you so much for all of the information that you share. I am listening and learning as I read :-)
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Post by bretf on Jun 26, 2016 12:32:32 GMT
Chapter 9: Kisses Sweeter than Wine
Oh, kisses sweeter than wine Oh, kisses sweeter than wine
When I was a young man and never been kissed I got to thinking it over what I had missed I got me a girl, I kissed her and then Oh lord, I kissed her again.
Oh, kisses sweeter than wine Oh, kisses sweeter than wine
He asked me to marry and be his sweet wife And we would be happy for all of our lives He begged and he pleaded like a natural man Oh lord, I gave him my hand.
Oh, kisses sweeter than wine Oh, kisses sweeter than wine
I worked mighty hard and so did my wife Workin' hand in hand to make a good life With corn in the field and wheat in the bins I was, oh lord, the father of twins.
Oh, kisses sweeter than wine Oh, kisses sweeter than wine
“Kisses Sweeter than Wine” Performed by Aiofe Clancy and Bobby Clancy Written by The Weavers
Bill took the drawings for the latest project Tom had secured to the county to apply for a building permit. When he turned in the paperwork he noted there was a new woman working in the department. He gave her his best smile, wow she’s pretty, and got a smile in return. He drifted through the day; that smile returning to his thoughts over and over.
The next morning, he asked Tom if there was anything at the county that needed picked because he had to take care of something in that area and it would save him time to do two things on one trip. Tom did in fact have another job to permit and Bill went to the permit office with a smile on his face. Great, she’s here. He went to the new woman, Amy her badge said, and turned in the paperwork, chatting with her while she worked. When she had the paper work done and handed him the permit, he asked her if she would like to go with him for lunch one day. She looked at him, studying him sharply. He was feeling like he might melt under her scrutiny, when she answered, “Tell you what, meet me at my church Sunday at 9:00 and we will see how it goes from there.”
“Church?’ he asked. Sunday was for hunting, fishing, gardening or any multitude of things. He hadn’t been to church since Mom had let him off the hook when he was ten. He looked at her as he thought and saw the triumphant look on her face the longer he mulled. “Sure he said. Where is it and where do I meet you?”
Her triumphant look was transformed into a look of surprise. “Really? Do you go to church?”
“Well, it’s been a while, but what better time than the present, right?”
She gave him a quizzical look, and then gave him the information for meeting Sunday and he left. He was wondering the whole time back to the job if he had made the right decision. A member of the God Squad, huh? Definitely different than the girls I used to run with. That’s got to be an improvement.
Bill attended services with Amy, then convinced her to have lunch with him. Keeping to his frugal habits, he drove her to a nearby park and brought out a cooler with the lunches he had prepared at home. Amy gave him a puzzled look at the situation but didn’t question him; he was sure she had been expecting a restaurant lunch. As it was, they were able to hold a nice conversation in the quiet park. Indian summer was in full effect, but it was certain not to last long. The trees were gold and crimson with a fair amount of leaves already on the ground.
When Bill returned Amy to the church, he asked to get together again. Amy said, “Of course, I’ll see you here next Sunday at 9:00.”
So they began a pattern each Sunday of attending services and finding a place to eat the lunch Bill had prepared. As they got to know each other better, with the weather turning colder, they began to have lunch at one of their homes. Amy eventually relented and began to see Bill other than Sundays. The day she agreed to become his wife was beyond joyous for him, only surpassed by the wedding. He often reflected on his life changes and was amazed at the path he had taken. He was thirty nine years old and a newlywed for the first time. He knew he could have easily been on number two or three.
Following the birth of Amanda, he was sitting in church one morning thinking how he would rather be teaching the girl to fish, so what if she is too young, she’s gotta start sometime. He was gazing into the baby’s angelic face, the Pastor was talking about something, Bill wasn’t sure what; he frequently tuned out. What was that he said? Something about God’s love, Jesus, children? Bill had been going through the motions so long he rarely paid attention, but he tuned in to what was being said. The pastor spoke of God the Father’s love with the same feeling Bill had for Amanda. Suddenly it all clicked together. I get it now. He again tuned out, but instead of thinking about fishing, he spoke to the Lord and accepted Jesus as his personal savior. He was filled with peace and contentment. He was still prone to slip into a daydream during services but it was much easier to pay closer attention to the message from that point on.
Bill continued with his frugal ways after becoming a family man. He felt it was even more important than it had been before. He had people depending on him that he did not want to let down. Combined with being frugal, he became very concerned about his family’s food consumption. The more he learned of mass produced food, the more he wanted to limit that to his family. Amy still liked the comfort of prepared foods, but he managed to limit the amount they used. Bill expanded his garden and food production with a new passion. They’re not going to poison my kids.
*****
Bill pulled out of his reverie and looked at Amanda trotting down the driveway, and saw Amy and Brad coming out the back door to greet him. He got out of the heavily loaded pickup and pulled them all together for a group hug, tears running down his face. These three people meant the world to him. He would do everything in his power to keep them safe.
“Dad, they said at school that somebody is blowing up stores,” Brad said. “Why are they doing that? If they don’t like the store can’t they just shop someplace else?”
“I don’t think it’s quite like that, Brad. There are some people that don’t like America and our way of life. They are trying to hurt our country, not necessarily the stores. Creating fear is one of their main weapons. It looks like they are trying to make people afraid of going shopping.”
Brad got a serious look on his young face while he mulled it over. Bill had never believed in hiding the ugly part of the world from the kids. He wanted them to know there was danger and to always be prepared to face it. Some times when he would tell them about a news story of a child predator, Amy would ask just why he told them about that. He wanted them prepared. He always drilled it into them that if anyone ever grabbed them they were to kick, bite, scream and fight with every ounce of effort they had; targeting the tender spots like the eyes, throat, groin. Finally Brad came to a decision, “We don’t have to be scared. We just have to look out for the bad people.”
“That’s’ right. We can’t let them change how we live, but we need to be aware those people are out there. The more we can be normal, it keeps them from winning.”
Amy gave Bill a fierce hug, separate from the group hug. “I’m so glad you’re home. And thanks for the map idea for Vegas. The store was on the opposite side of town from Frances. So if she was at work, she should be fine.”
“So enough of this for now, we’ll discuss it in depth later. Amanda, Brad how was school and cross country practice today?” Bill asked.
He grinned as the kids recounted the run through the foothills. Amanda ran with a natural grace and was the top runner in the school; and Brad was bound and determined his sister wouldn’t beat him. The age difference didn’t matter to him; he pressed her for everything she had. Ah, good old sibling rivalry. Despite the day’s news, Bill couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he listened to both of them. Man, it’s good to be home.
When the kids finally ran down, Amy said, “I’ve got sandwiches made. I figured you would want to eat something before we go to your folks. And I suppose you want to go hang out with your goat first too.” The goats were still a bone of contention for her. She didn’t like them and wanted them gone. Brad agreed with her except when there were babies. Amanda loved them. They were at a stalemate on the goats so Bill never requested Amy to help with them at all. He figured if they escaped from their pasture, she would let them into the road in hopes they would leave.
“Well then we better eat, and not let your efforts go to waste,” he told her after finally giving her a greeting kiss. They went to the house, washed, went to the table, prayed and began to eat.
While they were eating, Amanda asked what would happen now. Amy gave her an irritated look. That is not proper dinner table conversation. But Amanda didn’t notice, or chose not to notice.
“That is the puzzle we have to figure out,” Bill answered. “Is this a one-time big statement or is this just the beginning of something bigger? This was different than what they usually do. Most of the time it is someone acting on their own that will plant a single bomb like those knuckleheads at the Boston Marathon, and that’s it for a while. This time there was more coordination and at numerous places across the country. The last time I remember this much coordination was on 9-1-1. The targets that time were very specific: financial and military. But this time; wow, grocery stores are everywhere. It would be very easy for them to continue this. There is sure to be beefed up security at the big stores, but not everyone can afford extra guards, and the police are stretched pretty thin in a lot of places all ready. I suppose the National Guard and army could be used at the stores, but I’m not sure about that. It would feel almost like we have become a police state and our freedoms lost. The bombers would sure love that.” Bill did see the irritated look Amy shot him and let the rest of his thoughts hang. “But we don’t need to discuss it now. We’re going down the Grandpa and Grandma’s in a little while. We can talk about it then.”
“And while the adults talk, you guys can read,” Amy told them.
Bill turned at her with a serious look, “They can listen to the discussion if they choose. They have to know what is happening, and I would rather we direct their contact to it than kids on the playground. We can present the facts as we know them. Who knows what stories are going to be running through school tomorrow?”
“But Bill, they’re so young.”
“Yes they are, but they are smart, thinking people. I wouldn’t put it past them to think of something the rest of us miss.”
Amanda smiled down at her plate for her dad to have included her. Brad‘s eyes were down-cast, but he looked back and forth between his parents. They didn’t argue like some of his classmates said their parents did, but Dad usually let Mom get her way. This was pretty important stuff.
Bill excused himself, thanked Amy for making supper and picked up the milk pail and went to the door. Amanda jumped up, “Can I help you Dad?”
He looked at the table; not much to clean up, Amy can have it done before I’m done milking; and looked at Amanda, “I would be glad for your help.” They went out the door together, while Amy looked on, exasperated at events.
Amanda got the grain bucket and managed to get Mischief into the barn while Bill closed the gate to keep the rest of the goats from getting in. They put her in the stanchion and Bill settled in to milk, waiting quietly.
“So without Mom to shush us, what do you really think?” Amanda asked.
“I think today was just the tip of the iceberg. Look at the places they hit; it wasn’t the large population centers where they could probably get even more notice and take more lives. Waterloo, Truth or Consequences, Sin City, Tinsel Town. I think those names and locations are meant to send a message. Just think about it. Napoleon was finally defeated at Waterloo. Truth or Consequences, well that name says it all doesn’t it. And then there are the two icons of the decadence of the west; Hollywood and Vegas. I’m sure those were carefully picked and it is just the start. On 9-1-1, they hit financial and military targets and we came through strong. Now the targets are what they think makes “America”. I have prayed that I am wrong, but I feel pretty strong about it.”
Amanda mulled it over. Bill again had to admire how sharp she was for thirteen. “All right, so what will happen if they do set off more bombs?”
Bill had finished milking, stood up, hung the bucket, then released the goat and put his T-stool back on the shelf. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? Give it some thought. We’ll go down to Grandma and Grandpa’s house and discuss it as soon as I take care of the milk.”
They went to the house together and Bill strained the milk, put it in the refrigerator and washed his bucket and strainer cloth. He washed up and refreshed his water bottle, then went to his book shelf and pulled out some material. “Okay, let’s get this going,” he said and headed for the front door.
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Post by bretf on Jun 26, 2016 12:42:37 GMT
Chapter 10: Bad Moon Rising I see the bad moon arisin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today
Don't go around tonight Well, it's bound to take your life There's a bad moon on the rise
Hope you got your things together Hope you are quite prepared to die Looks like we're in for nasty weather One eye is taken for an eye
Well, don't go around tonight Well, it's bound to take your life There's a bad moon on the rise
“Bad Moon Rising” Performed by Creedence Clearwater Revival Written by John FogertyBill, Amy, Amanda and Brad walked the short distance down the road to Bill’s parent’s house. There were a number of vehicles parked out front. It looked like most of the family was going to be involved with the discussion. The television was on, broadcasting coverage from the bombing sites, currently covering the California store. The adults took chairs around the kitchen table, while Bill’s mother muted the TV. Bill started the discussion, “So I’m afraid this is the start of something bigger, judging by the towns they hit, what do you all think?” Bob was the first to answer, “I called some friends that are still with the county. They seem to have that same feeling. They’re gearing up for something big, and have reports of some online chatter to back it up.” No one else had anything to add to support or detract from the possibility of escalating violence. “So what do you think we should be doing, Bob?” Alan asked. “Let’s look at what we might be facing first. We’ll look at it two ways. If the bombings are a one-time statement, no one knows that, so they will react as if it is continuing. The stores will put on heavy security, you will be scrutinized in the parking lots and especially entering the stores. All of that is going to cost a lot of money and you know they will pass that on to the consumers. The government will certainly jump in somewhere, and you know they hate to stop a program once it is in place. The second scenario is if whoever it is continues or escalates the bombings. Security gets tight, it is inconvenient to shop and it all costs us more. Maybe they will disrupt the supply lines too. I think the bottom line no matter what, is groceries will cost more, be inconvenient and we may face shortages. Throw all this on top of the never ending recession and a bad situation just got very ugly. I think we should fill every nook and cranny with groceries as soon as we can and be ready to grow even more in the gardens next year. And that’s my best case scenario. “Now they could have something a lot worse planned. They might have gotten ahold of some of those missing Russian nukes and paid the right people to alter them so they can launch and fry all of our circuitry, throwing us into the dark ages.” “I’m sorry Bob, but what does that mean?” his mom asked. “I’m talking about an electromagnetic pulse; also known as EMP. Certain nuclear bombs can produce that large pulse. It pretty much fries most electronic circuitry, and about everything we have now has that kind of circuitry, even our cars. Depending on which study you believe, it could be more devastating to us to set off one of those in the upper atmosphere than to set off conventional nukes,” Bob answered. The group around the table was silent as they contemplated what Bob had just told them. “Or maybe they just set off some dirty nukes in the right places. If you noticed on the news, the secret service has stuffed the Prez in a rabbit hole somewhere. Congress has gone underground too. They think it’s going to get worse. I say we think and prepare for the worst and hope we are wrong,” Bob said. “Although, my guess is they don’t have nukes or they would have already used them.” “That follows my thoughts too,” Bill added. “I think all gas tanks and spare cans should be filled. Propane tanks, kerosene bottles, lantern fuel and any other fuel containers need filled. On the garden thought, if it comes down to us providing more of our own food, besides having enough seeds, we need to preserve as much as we can. I think we all need to see what canning supplies we have, get more if we need it and make sure everything is cleaned and ready to use. Alan and Jim, you should make sure you have as much chicken feed as you can handle. Besides animal feed, the ranch also has sealed bags of long term human storage food. As another precaution, I want to get my hand pump mounted on my well. We should get Dad’s and Alan’s pumps on too, in case there is a disruption in power. “Another thing we should all think about and try to stock up on are any prescription medicines we need. I already set up a doctor appointment for next week to try to get as much as I can. “I would also like to go the livestock auction this Saturday. Butcher hogs should be coming in and we could get some and try for an old sow to grind for sausage. And it would be nice if we could get a cow to grind into burger and another younger one to cut as normal. The weather is too warm still to let them age, but if we canned everything, the long time in the pressure canner makes about anything tender.” There was more discussion about that, Bill and Amy being the only ones who used a pressure canner. Amy did voice her opinion that she didn’t especially care for home canned meat. In the end, they came to a consensus that Cal and Bob would go to the auction and try to buy everything they wanted. They would cut, wrap and freeze as much as they could and only can that if the power was disrupted. Bill reminded them again that they better make sure all of their propane tanks were full if they had to can on camp stoves. If it came to that, he hoped that his gas stove would continue to work for a time by lighting it by hand, but he didn’t know how the booster pump stations functioned. Alan had access to butcher wrap at reduced prices so he could get enough paper for everything. Bill mentioned that he should also pick up some parchment paper, so they would have it on hand if they had to can the bacon. Alan could also get sausage seasoning. Everyone mulled it over and mentioned a few things they would do individually. As they were breaking up, most planning on going to the nearby Winco store, Bill gave his Dad the literature he had brought along, How to Build and Run the GEK Gasifier. “Why don’t you look this over? He also has a good website. Another place you can spend some time is on YouTube. driveonwood.com/“There are a bunch of videos on gasifiers. One guy, I think he calls himself “Mr. Teslonian”, has posted a lot. One is the step by step building of a unit he made that runs a small pickup. He used mostly scavenged materials for it. It looks to me like your kind of project. If the fuel supply gets messed up, this would be a pretty useful set-up to have.” Cal took the literature and began thumbing through it. “If I can drive without supporting the bloated fuel companies, why did you wait till now to give me this?” He was irritated each time he fueled up and then read of the big profits the gas companies raked in. “What, and miss out on hearing you sing the praises of those guys, not to mention supporting the countries that send the bombers to us? What fun would that have been?” Bill excused himself and started for home with his family. “I want to go to Winco and get whatever looks like it will store for some time that we would eat,” he told Amy. “All right. You and Bob made it sound like a sure thing. Should the kids and I go with you?” “If we all went, we could push three carts and make a major load of it. It might just be the only family time we get today.” They went to the garage and emptied the back of Amy’s van, laid the back seats down and made the short drive to the store. They stocked up heavily on canned foods, soap, extra bleach and lots of toilet paper. Bill also picked up a large amount of individual hard candies. He looked wistfully at the beer cooler. I’d sure enjoy a beer this evening, but I don’t think one would be enough, even after all this time. I don’t need that tonight or the aftereffects tomorrow. Besides, that money could be better used elsewhere. He turned from the cooler with some regret and continued to load the cart with items everyone in the family would use. The checkout took nearly as long as it had taken to load the carts. Amy winced as the total climbed higher and higher with each beep of the scanner. When her card was run she looked at Bill with an “Are you sure about this?” look. The contents of the three nearly-overflowing carts filled the back of the van. Once back home, Amy and the kids started to unload the van and put things away. Bill would work on unloading the pickup. Before he started unloading, there was one other thing he wanted to do. He went to a shelf in the shop and took down his egg incubator, blowing the dust off the top. It was a small, inexpensive model that he had purchased with an egg turner that held forty one eggs. When it was set flat in a secure spot on his work bench, he carried a bag of groceries into the house for the egg bucket and a quart of water. This is one time I’m alright with the kids not putting the eggs away right after gathering them. Once the water trays in the incubator were filled, he plugged in the incubator and the turner. Normally when he started the incubator, he allowed it to heat for a day to make sure the temperature was right. It had been reliable and held the proper temperature every time he used it, even in the varying temperatures of his shop, so he decided not to take the extra day. Its only requirement when operating had been to regularly refill the water trays to keep the humidity at the desired level. He filled the incubator half full with the day’s eggs and pointed it out to Amanda and Brad and asked them to put the next day’s eggs in also. Then it was time to get to work unloading. The grain was normally stored in a number of plastic and steel barrels with snug fitting lids. He filled them all and still had bags of grain that didn’t fit inside. After clearing a spot in his storage shed, he laid out boards to keep everything off the cement floor and stacked the bags, leaving ample space all around them. He had some excellent mousers, two of which lived in the shed. Mice would most likely still get into the grain, but hopefully the losses wouldn’t be too great. By the time the grain was put away; Amy and the kids had finished with the van load. Bill looked in the food pantry he had built into the corner of the shop. The shelves were full from the just completed trip and full Mason jars. The space between the shelves was the only open area. A wooden rack was in a slot beside his upright freezer that he pulled out and laid on the floor between the storage shelves. Everything from the cab of the pickup was stacked on the rack, eliminating the access between the shelves. “I’ll have to do something about that soon,” he thought as he shut off the light, closed and latched the door. Brad met him at the door with a large glass of cold water that he gratefully accepted and drank most at once. Despite the cooling evening air, he was covered in sweat and his shirt had clung to him with each bend. Amy asked what she and the kids could do to help so he asked them to do a rough inventory of empty canning jars and start a load of them running in the dishwasher. Once the pickup was parked, Bill went to the chicken pen and shut everything up for the night. The small door for the chickens, and the walk through door for people into the chicken house, were both secured. The gate to the pen was closed and latched. The wooden house was the chicken’s safety at night; the gate and chicken wire pen was cosmetic. The pen was only strong enough to keep the chickens confined on the rare instances they weren’t allowed to free range. It wouldn’t be much of a deterrent for a hungry animal. Raccoons were thick in the neighborhood as well as occasional foxes and they liked nothing better than a fresh chicken dinner. Coyotes were often seen and heard in the area, but at least he hadn’t seen any at home, not that he would be surprised to see them. Sometimes the free range chickens decided not to roost in the house, opting instead for the nearby apple trees. The ones that managed to escape Bill’s notice usually were scant remains under the trees the next morning. Glad to have everything done for the evening, Bill got two lawn chairs and set them up in the back yard. Amy saw what he had done and after getting her own glass of water, and a refilled one for Bill joined him. “Judging by the chairs, I guess you want to talk.” “Yeah, I do. The kids can join us if they want; you know I don’t try to hide stuff from them. But I want to get a sweat shirt first.” The sweat-soaked shirt he was wearing was cold against his skin now that he wasn’t working. The sun had set long before, the air cooling off noticeably; though not as fast as it would if the sky wasn’t blanketed with smoke. “Okay, if they want to listen I’ll let them, even though I wish they wouldn’t. But I still wish they could stay young a while longer. It would be so nice if they could just have a normal quiet childhood like we did.” Bill paused at the door, his hand on the knob. “I wish they could too, the Good Lord knows I do, but the world has changed and they have to change with it. I don’t want them blind-sided because we sheltered them. I’m afraid that’s going to happen to a lot of people.” His face was serious as he went in the house for his sweat shirt. As it happened, the kids stayed at the kitchen table with their school books and notebooks open, the laptop computer open, taking turns to use it for that portion of their homework. “Alright,” Amy said after Bill had settled into the lawn chair with a groan. “What do you want to tell me?” “You know I think things are going to get a lot worse. I just have this terrible gut feeling this is only the beginning. I prayed about it but the feeling just wouldn’t go away. So I did a few things today that will help us if things get bad.” Bill paused and took a drink from his glass. “The first thing, I set us up to see the doctor this coming Wednesday for our annual check-ups. Why don’t you take your phone out right now and put it in your calendar so we don’t forget. I want us to get blood work done and make sure our prescriptions are still the right dose and see if she recommends anything else. Then I want to try to get her to prescribe as many years-worth of meds as we can get. I have no idea how open she will be to longer than a year, but I have to try. If she will help us, of course the pharmacy will tell us that insurance won’t cover it, so we will pay for it all with cash.” “More than a year’s worth?” Amy asked. “Do you really think we could have problems longer than that? I’m sorry Bill, but well, that seems outlandish to me. How can you think something could be wrong for that long? This is America after all.” “Yes, it’s America, with all its problems. This recession, as the powers that be call it has drug on for years. They tell us that unemployment is down, but you want to know something sad about that? They don’t count unemployment the same way they used to. Now if you no longer qualify for unemployment benefits, you aren’t counted. Handy isn’t it? If they truly counted all the unemployed, well, they won’t. And they really don’t want to go into the under-employed. You can’t get reelected doing that. “I know history wasn’t your favorite subject, but think about our Great Depression. It began in 1928 and the country didn’t really pull out of it until the war came along. Now there is a great economy booster, an all-out war. That’s another concern I have; an all-out war. But it’s not at the top of my list of concerns. Now this time the fight has come to our soil. It took years and years after the war was over for things to be good again in Europe, Japan and everywhere else where there was fighting. “Even without war, here in our modern times, Argentina has gone through a long depression. I don’t know a lot about it, but it seems that it started with a financial crisis; maybe not a whole lot different than we have been going through. And it lasted quite a few years. “So to answer your original question, I do think we could be in a crisis situation for longer than a year. It might not take much to tip over our house of cards.” Amy mulled it over while Bill took another drink. Her brow knitted and creased, lines appeared on her forehead as she thought. Bill used the time to consider his next words. “So, I told you I did some things today to make it a little easier on us if everything falls apart. I asked God’s guidance in what I had to face and everything felt right, so I proceeded without talking to you first. And then I closed out my IRA.” The look on Amy’s face showed she didn’t agree, “The IRA, but Bill, we’re going to need…” He broke in before she could build up momentum on her protest. “I left the 401K accounts alone. But the IRA, I directed Jack to close and put the money in our checking account. The money will still be there if nothing happens and we can always re-invest. But if this stuff continues and things go bad, we may need some things that we have to pay cash for and now we will have it available. I know it would be nice to slide into a nice and comfortable retirement but the terrorists are trying their hardest to prevent that. I want to be ready to face the future they are dictating. If the financial institutions have problems, cash could be king, at least as long as there are goods to purchase”. “Okay I don’t necessarily agree, but I see your reasoning. What else did you do?” “Well, I did my darndest to spend as much of the money as I could.” The look he received told him he wasn’t funny. “I looked at things as if we are going into a long term crisis; then I made a huge order of garden seeds, reusable jar lids, hoop ho..” “Did you say reusable lids?” “Yeah, this company called Tattler makes canning lids that they say can be used over and over. I’ve wanted to get some for quite a while, but didn’t like the prices and we still had some regular lids from those four cases we bought a couple years ago.” “Okay, those would be nice if you can use them over and over. And you said “huge order” of seeds. What is huge?” “At the rate I garden now, it is enough to last the rest of my life. But…if things fall apart, we can plant most of the neighborhood for a number of years.” Amy nodded in understanding and he continued to tell what he had done that afternoon. “After that, I got some books and videos from Amazon, hoop house cover material, and.” “What’s “hoop house material”?” “You’ve seen those greenhouses with the flexible plastic type covers on hoops?” At her nod, yes, he continued, “Those are hoop houses. The covers are a plastic that holds up well in wind and sunshine.” “Uh huh, so what about the hoops? Do you need to get something for them? I take it you’re planning to grow a lot of food in the off season. ” “I’ve seen some made with pipe, some with conduit, some with PVC. I’ve got that pile of pipe out there that I can make work. I still need a little more material, but I’ve got enough to get a good workable start.” “Is there more?” “Well, you saw the pickup; I got a lot more grain than usual and a lot of storage food, you know, dry beans, oats, rice, pearl barley, stuff like that. I also got a bunch of stuff at Cash and Carry. And I ordered an electric fencer and I gutted the savings account. “ “Okay, one at a time. You gutted the bank account? Really? Why?” He pulled a large roll of cash from his pocket, “I got this to put in the safe. We will have it on hand if we need to make purchases we can’t write a check for. Again, cash may be king; it’s possible cash may become the only payment accepted. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but it is just one more layer of insurance. Plus all of the IRA money should be in the checking account tonight. ” “I have never wanted you to be wrong before, but, well, I hope you are dead wrong on every bit of this. Now, that aside, I understand the food and hope I never have to eat the storage stuff. But why did you get a fencer? You already have one.” “The fencer I ordered is solar. If something happens to the power, we can still run the fences.” “Get rid of the goats and you don’t need electric fences, what about that?” she asked, never missing a chance to voice her opinion about the goats. That and she didn’t want to contemplate that they might not have electricity. Bill let the comment go without answering. Seeing he wasn’t going to answer, she said, “Well, you’ve thought about it a lot, I guess. It’s going to take me a while to wrap my mind around it all. You don’t think you are being reactionary at all do you? You always thought there were a bunch of kooks with the Y2K non-event. Now you are doing about the same as a lot of them.” The sun had set and the chill air matched the lack of warmth in their conversation. Crickets and frogs were making the night air ring with their songs; the only answer to Amy’s statement. When her comments again didn’t bring a response from Bill, she finally said, “Let’s clean up and get to bed.” They went in the house. Amanda and Brad were still at the table working on their homework. They would have normally been done by the late hour, but the evening’s circumstances had set them back. “Are you about done so you can get to bed?” Amy asked. While addressing the kids, she had her cell phone out, tried to call Frances again and had a pained expression when she was still unable to get through. “I’m done,” Brad said closing his notebook, “But you still need to sign off on my reading.” “Four more problems in algebra, then I’m done” Amanda said. “Well, get them done. You don’t want to turn in incomplete work. Then you need to get ready and go to bed. Brad, brush your teeth,” she told him as he was headed for the television. “But Mom, Amanda’s not ready. I’ll brush my teeth when she does.” “Brad,” Bill said and looked at him sternly. “You’ll do it now,” she snapped and instantly regretted it. “Alright. Boy, you guys sure aren’t fair.” But he did as he was told. When he finished and started for his bedroom, Bill asked if he wanted to discuss the events of the day. Brad thought about it and said no, he would just say his prayers and go to bed. Amy accompanied him to pray with him like every other night. Amanda finished her problems, and got ready for bed. “Good night Dad, I love you” she said as she hugged Bill. “And thank you for making it so we can be safe.” “Love you, hon. And I’ll do my best to keep you three as safe as I can. Good night.” Amy came out of brad’s room and followed Amanda into her room. Bill showered, scrubbing of the afternoon and evening’s sweat, shaved, brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. He sat in the living room and waited for Amy with the news turned on low. There was really nothing new to report. The authorities were speculating as to who and why and there was little to connect the bombings. Yeah right, Bill thought. The White House spokesman had made a statement asking the populace to remain calm, don’t try to take vengeance, we don’t know who did it. Don’t automatically come to the decision it was Islamic terrorists. Yep, about what I expected. Amy came out of Amanda’ bedroom and prepared for bed. She joined Bill, “Anything new?” Her cell phone was in her hand and she tried another call to Frances. She sighed loudly when the call didn’t go through. “Nope. They are just rehashing what they said earlier. If they know anything else, they aren’t admitting it. And the prez says don’t assume it was Muslims. How are the kids taking it?” “I don’t think Brad is looking at any big pictures. He sees it as a long way from here and not affecting us, but he prayed for all of the families of the people that were hurt. Amanda feels badly for everyone involved and thinks we are going into hard times, but you and Grandpa know how to handle it so we will all be fine. She has loads of confidence in you.” She fixed him with a stare. So do I, but are you sure about this? “Come on, turn that thing off and let’s go to bed. They went to bed and Bill held Amy close. “Bill, do you really think it’s going to be bad?” “Yes I do. It’s like Bob laid it out; they hit us in a vulnerable spot and they can pull that off over and over again. It’s going to take some effort and pain to fix it. And that’s if things go easy. If they continue, well, it’s going to be ugly.” Amy lay quietly thinking about that. She was afraid to admit Bill might be right; no she was terrified that he could be right. She liked her life orderly, with little change from day to day. Bill was soon snoring softly while she continued to lay awake, her mind running over the events of the day and the family’s response to it. Amanda was right. Bill, his dad and brothers do know what to do. I just hope they are wrong and we don’t fall apart. I hope Frances is safe somewhere, far from danger. She pulled Bill’s arm tighter around her and eventually slept.
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Post by bretf on Jun 26, 2016 12:54:27 GMT
Chapter 11: Ready For The Storm
O the waves crash in and the tide pulls out It's an angry sea but there is no doubt That the lighthouse will keep shining out To warn the lonely sailor And the lightning strikes and the wind cuts cold Through the sailor's bones to the sailor's soul Till there's nothing left that he can hold Except the rolling ocean
But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm
Give me mercy for my dreams For every confrontation seems To tell me what it really means To be this lonely sailor But when the sky begins to clear And the sun it melts away my fear I'll cry a silent weary tear For those that need to love me
But I am ready for the storm, yes sir ready I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm
“Ready For the Storm” Performed by Dougie MaClean Written by Dougie MaClean
Bill laid awake, willing sleep to take him again. He shifted his position and finally opened his eyes and looked at the clock. 4:45, the alarm will go off in fifteen minutes. Might as well quit fighting it and just get up. He sat up on the side of the bed as quietly as he could so as not to disturb Amy, stretched, turned off the alarm, gathered up his clothes and went into the bathroom. He had to step softly around Maggie, a darker shape on the dark floor. He left the bathroom dressed and went into the kitchen.
When he turned the light on over the sink he was greeted by a chorus of calls from the goat pen. If he was up, they were ready for treats and milking. He picked his prescription bottle off the shelf, opened it and removed a pill. He did a quick estimate of the remaining pills, about two weeks-worth. I sure hope the doc will let me get enough of this to weather a long term problem however long it lasts. He washed down the pill with a large cup of water and reached for the coffee pot, chuckling as the goats called again for him to get out there. I’m coming, but some of you will be disappointed. He got the coffee started to brew, took the milk bucket out then glanced at the thermometer. Jacket morning, but still warm for mid-September, he thought as he went to the coat hooks and took down his well-worn sweat shirt. Amy and his mom both tried to get him to throw it out. It had two large tears, the cuffs were ragged and it was covered in paint and stains that wouldn’t wash out. He didn’t see the need to toss it and start trashing another one. Chores are tough on clothes so why wreck something good. He was sure he could get one more winter out of this one.
When Bill opened the door, Maggie joined him and went out into the darkness, the smell of smoke heavy on the air. I wish we could get rain to help get those fires out. We don’t need the bombers for fires around here. The west was in yet another drought year with late summer forest fires raging in many locations. The thick smoke rolled in and settled into the valleys, trapping the heat from the previous day and making for generally unhealthy breathing conditions.
The dog did a quick circuit of the back yard, her nose up sniffing the air for anything out of the ordinary. Once Bill opened the back gate, she trotted towards the chicken pen to investigate for threats. Bill went to the feed shed to get some grain. He normally gave each of the goats a morning treat even though they sure didn’t need it. This time he scooped just enough grain for Mischief and a much smaller amount than usual for the rest; just enough to distract them while he got Mischief in the barn. He poured the extra grain in the feeder to occupy the goats, grabbed Mischief and went into the barn and closed the entrance gate. Before he had Mischief in the stanchion on the milk stand, Rand and Perrin, the two pack weathers were standing on the gate wanting more grain. “Sorry boys, you’re going to be on short rations from now on,” he told them. As Bill settled in to milk, he began to think of what he wanted to accomplish during the day. He did some of his best thinking while he was milking on a peaceful morning. The previous day had felt hectic even though he had accomplished everything on his immediate “to do list”.
With the milking complete, Bill went to the house and started the milk to strain. While it was dripping, he filled a cup with coffee and took a drink before he placed a sheet of paper in his clipboard and started noting everything he wanted to get done that day. As soon as his basic thoughts were recorded he emptied the dishwasher, refilled it with canning jars and started it running. If the power went off he wanted the jars as clean as possible. He finished up the milk, put the jar in the fridge and washed his bucket and strainer cloth and put them away to dry. Too bad Amy won’t have anything to do with my goat milk.
Bill’s guts clenched and he picked up his pencil and clipboard and went into the bathroom. It was the second area he had to himself each morning where he could think. While answering the call of nature he pondered how his activities might be different if the terrorists popped an EMP or something worse. Well, the first place is right here; how to take care of our own waste. With no power, all the water would be hand pumped. I don’t want to spend that much time pumping. The urine would be easy, at least for me and Brad. And I can use it as fertilizer. Better find that “Humanure” book by that Jenkins guy, I think his name was. As Bill thought about that, he figured both kids would get on board even though they might not like it. Amy, probably not. As backup, better plan on some packing of water for the toilet and maybe build an outhouse. Did I ever download plans on composting toilets? I wonder how the septic tank will work with just a minimal amount of water going in. Okay, toilet paper. We would never be able to stock enough for long term, not that I won’t try. Dad said they used to save corn cobs and would use a red one first, then a white one to know if they heeded another red one. I’m not sure if he was joking or not, but my hemorrhoids hurt just thinking about it. Something I read once said people each had individual cloths and a way to clean them, then some bleach water for final cleaning and letting them dry. That would be better than a corn cob; OUCH. Bill finished up and washed his hands while he relished the fact that he had some very soft two-ply and a self- filling tank on the toilet.
In the kitchen, Bill picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. Cold. He put it in the microwave to warm while he opened the fridge to see what would work for lunch. He pulled out a container with some left over elk roast, an apple and a jar of milk. He cut off some of the meat, bagged it and put it in his lunch bag with the apple and filled a pint jar with milk, then returned the containers to the fridge. He got two ice bottles form the freezer section and put them in the bag next to the milk, added some mixed nuts to a baggie and put it in the lunch bag and closed the zipper. For breakfast that he usually ate at break time at work, he started a cup of water heating in the microwave while he put a half cup of mixed rolled oats and wheat in his wide mouth thermos with some cinnamon and honey. When the water came to a boil, he poured it over the mix, secured the lid and shook the thermos well and set it with his lunch bag. It would be perfectly cooked in less than an hour, but by using old fashioned oats, would still be excellent hours later, well, as excellent as hot cereal could be compared to ham and eggs.
After he brushed his teeth and brushed his hair, Bill checked the time and saw he had about twenty minutes before he normally left for work. He refilled his coffee cup and sat down at the computer with his binder and the clipboard at hand. He searched Craigslist for PVC pipe, metal tanks, barrels, cinder blocks and bricks. He responded to two posts. The prices were higher than he normally paid for used materials but beat new prices. If things fell apart there were still some things he wanted to get materials for.
After logging off the web, Bill rinsed his coffee cup and went to wake Amy and kiss her goodbye, opened the kid’s bedroom doors and picked up his lunch and headed outside. He let the chickens out and got in the car and headed for work. The radio needed tuned to a news station, but as he listened, there wasn’t anything new to report. And even better, there had been no further incidents.
At the office, Tom was lining out the work crews for the day when Bill arrived. He got a cup of coffee, started his computer, checked his email, and looked at his work for the day. Steve and Greg both arrived, Steve complaining to Greg about the night before. “So we went to dinner at Sizzler. They have the TVs everywhere that are always on different games. The Yankees were playing Baltimore and Andy Petit was starting. I really wanted to watch him. But, no. All the TVs in the joint were on the news. Jenny was really ticked. She asked the manager to change one, not all of them, just the one. But he wouldn’t do it. I mean, I’m as interested in the news as the next guy, but they were just rehashing the same stuff. Come on, it’s pennant race time. After a few drinks, we just got more ticked off. They weren’t even flashing the scores at the bottom.” He chuckled and added, “We left without leaving a tip.”
Tom had finished with the outside work crews and walked back to where Steve and Greg were. Bill left his desk to hear what Tom had to say and to offer up some of his thoughts. “What a mess. They ought to find the guys that did that and strap a bomb on them,” Tom spat out.
“That’s not good enough, it would be instant. Did you see all the people that were burned? Those desert rats need to suffer for a long, long time,” Greg added.
“Thoughts of justice aside, have you given any thought to the effects of yesterday on each of us?” Bill asked.
“What do you mean us? We weren’t around there.” Steve responded. “Well, other than not getting to see the game last night, I don’t see any effects.”
“Well, stop and think a little bigger picture. Wal-Mart lost some stores yesterday. How do you think they will respond? Are they just going to issue a press release that all their stores are safe – come shopping, no worries. Or are they going to try to put in security to try to make sure those stores are safe. And how much security do they need. Remember flying before 9-1-1? Look at the security at the airports now. Are they going to have scanners to enter the store? What about the possibility of car bombs driven into the front door? How much security will it take to make you really safe, or at least the appearance of safety? What will that do to the cost of groceries?”
Bill gave them a while to think on that, all of them silent. “Now suppose there are more stores bombed. Let me ask you a personal question. Do you have home owners insurance? Do you have health insurance, car insurance, or any other insurance? Think about eating insurance. Tom grows a large garden for a lot of his food, but aside from that, what kind of insurance do any of you have that you will eat tomorrow? Do you just assume that Wal-Mart and Sizzler will always be there and have nicely stocked up shelves and steaks ready to grill?” Steve’s frown turned to a grimace at the comment. “Greg, what does your church say about that? You know, the two-year supply that you are all expected to have, although you have told me you only have a few days-worth.”
Again, there was a long period of silence while each of them thought of their own circumstances. Steve was the first one to speak, “So, it looks like we’re screwed.”
“Missing out on a ball game might be the least of your worries,” Bill told Steve.
Tom looked at Bill and asked, “So it’s obvious you’ve thought about it. What do you think?”
Bill took some time to look them each in the eye before responding. “I think you are only screwed if you don’t do anything. I think we should all have enough supplies on hand to go through a long rough patch. Maybe the terrorists will be picked up today, maybe not. Maybe there will be a whole slew of copycats. There’s a whole lot of ‘maybes’. But if we all get things that we will use, and can be stored for long term, it is what I call food insurance. Greg should have all kinds of information on what to do there.”
Tom and Steve turned to Greg. “Well what do you think?” Tom asked him.
“Billy’s talking sense I guess. Are you sure you’re not Mormon?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
“Get us the information on storage food. We’ll take the morning off, get the flat bed and go to Costco.” Tom turned to Bill, “Anything else?”
“I’ll work with Greg on his information. I may have something to add,” Bill said.
Relieved that they were taking the situation seriously, Tom anyway, Bill sat with Greg at this work station and they put together as much information as they could. “Man,” Bill thought. “I’m more up on the LDS two year list than he is and it’s his church. Egad, I must be Mormon; I need more wives.” His snort made Greg look up at him questionably.
“Sorry Greg, sinus drainage,” he said and suppressed another snort.
Tom called the outside crews back and laid out the gist of the completed discussion and the plan to stock up.
“But I don’t have any money for stocking up,” Jimmy, one of the outside crewmembers said.
“Tell you guys what,” Tom said. “The cash I would give you for a Christmas bonus, plus the cost of the Christmas dinner, I’ll put into this shopping trip.” He turned to Jimmy, “And no, you can’t have the cash instead. It’s a one- time offer, take it or leave it. I’ll pay for what Greg and Bill have recommended. Anything else is on you.”
Jimmy had a sour look on his face, “All right. I’ll take it.” Jimmy rarely had two coins to rub together in his pocket. Tom often had to turn him down for advances on his pay. Bill noticed Steve seemed about as enthusiastic about the idea as Jimmy, but he remained quiet.
Excusing himself from the Costco run, Bill went to his computer and started looking though information he had downloaded, thinking about each of his coworkers. He burned discs for each of them based on their own circumstances as much as possible. The information contained everything he had collected on water filtration, distilling and collecting rainwater. There was information on gardening, native edible and medicinal plants. Rocket stove mass heaters. Food preservation techniques. Fishing and trapping plans. Trapping methods and recipes for raccoons, rock-chucks, squirrels, fish, and crawdads.
Tom had the best situation by far, living far outside the city limits, with the garden, ten acres of alfalfa, a well, septic, barn. Jimmy, on the other hand, reminded Bill of what he now called “Dark-Side Bill”, the part of his life he regretted ever happening. He was in a sparsely furnished apartment with nothing to his name but his tools, and the bar stool he claimed every day after work. Even his television was on a rent to own arrangement. If the world fell to pieces, Bill was concerned that Jimmy would slip into the mode of a predator.
Bill was just burning the final disc when his cell rang. He looked at the display and saw it was Amy. “Hiya Hon. What’s up?”
“Well, nothing. Really, nothing. Have you been listening to the news? They’re just rehashing stuff they said last night. Do you think it’s too late to have Jack get the IRA re-invested?”
Head shaking, and taking a deep breath, Bill answered, her, “No, it’s a done deal. I had the confirmation in my inbox this morning. It showed what he sent of the IRS, what went into our account and the small print on what he kept.”
Amy was quiet for a while. “Okay, I just thought we might still be able to save the account since nothing is happening. Oh well, wishful thinking I guess.
“I still can’t reach Frances. I got her voicemail and told her to call. Her office phone also goes straight to voicemail.”
“I’m sure the system is just overwhelmed from everyone checking in. You should be able to reach her later. What’s the work atmosphere like today?” Bill asked her.
“Not much work getting done. A lot of discussion about yesterday.”
“I know you aren’t totally on board with what I did yesterday, but you might try to point some of the discussion to what Bob said last night.” He also mentioned to her the “food insurance” line but could tell by her lukewarm response, she would most likely remain silent. Yep, don’t let them know your husband is a nutcase. Thinking that might be more effective than lecturing her about keeping quiet. “Well, we better get back to it; maybe get some work done today. Love you.”
“Love you too, bye.”
*****
Bill thanked Tom for what he had done with the Costco run and transferred his portion into his car. He noticed that everyone in the morning’s discussion except Steve, as well as two down-to earth types from the outside crew had extra. Jimmy was already trying to offload some of his for cash, before it was even stowed in his car. Yep, he’ll be trouble for someone if things get dicey. Bill gave everyone the discs he had prepared. Jimmy gave a shrug upon receiving his.
At lunch time, Bill went to the nearest Kinko’s printing location. He ordered numerous copies made of the information stored on the discs he had burned for himself. If the power goes out, I don’t want all of this lost on the computer. Later when he picked up his order, it completely filled two copy paper boxes. It was much more than he needed but a lot of the information was to share with others; more insurance.
*****
At home, Bill was greeted by Maggie and an empty stall on Amy’s side of the garage. That’s right; they had a youth group barbecue at the Jones house today. I’ll figure out something to eat when I’m done with all of this. He checked the incubator and saw the kids had finished filling it as he had asked, and the temperature was right. After he got his load from Costco put away and the boxes of papers stacked in his shop, Bill parked the car and switched to the pickup. He drove to pick up some barrels from the morning’s Craigslist search and made another stop for a pile of cinderblocks. On the way home, he stopped at the Home Depot and purchased more heavy-wall PVC pipe to add to his pile. He wanted to be able to erect additional hoop houses if he needed to. He also bought a new well cap. His final stop was the recreation vehicle store where he topped off all of his propane tanks.
When everything was put away, Bill hunted through his shop and found the box with his hand water pump and fittings. In another corner was the PVC pipe to drop down the well casing. He had purchased everything years earlier, but had never mounted it to the well. It now had a nice covering of dust. He cleaned everything thoroughly and ran a bleach solution over and through it all. He drilled the new cap for bolt holes and the larger hole for the water line and bolted the pump to the new well cap, made the pipe connections and carried everything to the pump-house. After removing the existing well cap from the casing, he had to find a stick to wipe some spider webs out of the top of the well casing. He dropped the PVC with its newly attached foot valve down the casing and secured it with a twine. The pump and well cap was hung over it and the pipe union joining both sections was screwed together. He lowered the full assembly down and secured the well cap to the casing. After placing a bucket under the spout, he primed the pump with the nearby garden hose and began to pump. After just a few pumps he had water flowing and half-filled the bucket. I’m glad that’s done but I really, really don’t want to have to rely on it.
The water was dumped out the door, a hand rag dropped into the bottom of the bucket, then the tools set into the bucket and returned to the shop. He set the bucket on the floor in front of his work bench, briefly considered putting everything away, but instead went to the garden and picked corn, tomatoes, cucumbers and pulled a carrot for his supper. This was his favorite eating time of the year, picking the vegetables fresh and eating them within minutes. He always wondered how vegetarians could live, but there was this one period of the year he could almost go meatless.
After he had eaten and fed Maggie, Bill showered. Ah, something else I would really miss if it is gone. What are my alternatives? When he was younger and helping his dad in the hay fields, his dad had rigged up an outside summer shower. It was a black barrel on a stand with a valve and pipe to let water out. They filled it with the garden hose. By late evening, the sun had warmed the water enough for a very comfortable shower. His parents had also told him about their first home together. They bathed in a galvanized wash tub in the kitchen. Another possibility that he came up with was the camp showers; black rubber bladders with an outlet. He could always fill them with warm water and hang them in the shower stall. All viable options, but each meant hand pumping water, and heating it without the water heater. I guess that would be the end of long showers. He was shaving under the shower stream and realized that would end also. It used way too much water.
After Bill had dressed, he went online and searched Craigslist again. This time he went to the farm and livestock section. He needed to locate a buck goat; won’t Amy love that. He was also searching for a jersey cow. He wasn’t sure he wanted a cow at the moment; it would add a fair amount to his morning and evening chores. However, since Amy turned up her nose to the goat milk, maybe she would be more open to raw cow milk. He wasn’t sure. The rich raw milk was far from the stuff she bought at the grocery store. He found a couple of bucks that might work and jotted down the information. The cow was not to be found but there were some heifers. He added their information to his notepad. He wasn’t going to purchase today. This was mostly for comparison. He would ask his dad to look for each at the auction the next day and decide how to proceed from there.
Logging off, Bill picked up his note pad and headed for the front door. Maggie saw him and raced out the dog-door and was waiting impatiently for him at the front gate. They made the short walk to his parent’s house where Bill found his dad watching a video on the computer on wood gasifiers. Bill confirmed the plan for Bob and Cal to go the livestock auction the next day. He gave his dad the notes on bucks and heifers. “What do you think about us getting a jersey cow?” he asked.
Bill’s mom had come over, “He’s wanted to get a cow for the last two years. But I don’t think he needs to be milking twice a day.” Cal was eighty three years old and slowed by cancer surgery and treatments although he didn’t want to admit it.
“I’d just as soon not be adding one more animal to milk right now either, but I think we should look in case we see something good,” Bill replied.
“I can still milk twice a day, it just might take me longer,” Cal said. He really didn’t like to admit he had limitations. Bill had noticed that Bob now drove him to all of his doctor appointments.
“If we decide to get one, I’ll milk her and Amanda can take over milking Mischief,” Bill answered. Amanda sometimes milked the goat when he was busy. “Why don’t you check out bucks tomorrow too? This is what is available now on Craigslist,” he pointed on his note paper. “And if you find a good one, Amy can be mad at you instead of me,” he said with a smile.
“Alright, we’ll see what they have. Come out to the shop with me. I’ve got something to show you.”
“He’s been out there playing all day,” Bill’s mom said. “You gave him a good challenge.”
Pipes and various steel tanks were spread across the room. Some had been welded together. Bill was impressed with the progress Cal had made. “I think a couple more days on this and I can have it ready to put on the pickup. I spent as much time gathering parts as I did working on it. Let’s get the old Jimmy out this weekend and park it by the shop.” Cal, having grown up with little of anything hated to depart with something once he had it. That included motor vehicles. He had three parked that were still running when he bought their replacements. The Jimmy was a seventies model half-ton pick-up that was too light for the loads Cal had begun to carry. So he parked it and bought a one ton extended cab pickup. Every so often, he would go out and start it and check all of the fluids and air in the tires, but it hadn’t been driven more than five miles a year in the last ten years.
They discussed the project a while longer, then Bill excused himself, whistled for Maggie and started for home. Dad sure looks tired tonight. I hope he didn’t overdo it. I’d try to take his place at the auction but he wouldn’t stand for that. Cal loved attending auctions. He had taken the boys to many over the years: livestock, junk, farm sales, they took them all in. It was rare for him to leave one early.
The house was still empty when Bill got home. He got a glass of ice water and set it on the stand near his recliner, picked up a pair of reading glasses and went to his book shelf. Need to remember to go by the dollar store and pick up a big variety of readers. He searched until he found two books on livestock anatomy and veterinary techniques and returned to the chair and began to look for some specific information. He took a drink of water while he paused between pages. Ice makers and refrigerators – that’s something else I sure would hate to do without. He went back to searching the books.
Maggie’s happy barks at hearing Amy drive up accompanied by the slap of the dog door flap woke Bill. His early wake up time combined with the comfortable chair made him fall asleep easily once he was done with his work for the day. He picked up the book where it had fallen into his lap and marked his page with a bookmark and returned the books to the book shelf. The backdoor opened to a flurry of squirming, tail wagging dog followed by Brad, Amanda and Amy. He got a hug from each and a kiss from Amy and got to hear all about the barbecue.
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Post by bretf on Jun 26, 2016 13:02:47 GMT
Chapter 12: Don’t Worry Be Happy
Here's a little song I wrote, You might want to sing it note for note, Don't worry, be happy
In every life we have some trouble, When you worry you make it double Don't worry, be happy
Don’t worry be happy now
“Don’t Worry, Be Happy” Performed by Bobby McFerrin Written by Bobby McFerrin
Saturday morning dawned unseasonably warm for mid-September and very smoky. The firefighters weren’t making much headway on the raging forest fires. Most of their efforts had been defensive for home protection; the result of the affluent building multi-million dollar homes where they had no business putting in houses.
After his morning chores, Bill stood in the back yard and looked to the foothills, just a blurry shape. I’m not looking forward to spending the day in this skunky air, but I’m not going to waste the day either. He figured he had about six hours before his dad and brother returned, so he was going to make the best of it by starting the expansion of his greenhouse. Alan and Jim would be preparing everything for butchering. It was nice to have a brother that had spent fifteen years on the kill floor of the local meat packing plant.
Wanting a greenhouse for years, Bill had scrounged a number of used sliding glass doors. Most of them came from Freecycle, two stacks from people that had scrounged them to build their own greenhouses, and then abandoned the idea. The lumber for the framing was from an auction where he had picked up a number of full bunks of 2x4s and 2x6’s. They weren’t number one quality, but with care, pre-drilling, and extra supports, most were able to be straightened. And the price he paid couldn’t be beat. When he first made the greenhouse, he had the glass doors at the front extend to the ground, later obscuring the bottom section with planter boxes. It was a classic “DUH” moment when he looked at the covered over glass and determined he could greatly increase the size by building a short base wall and extending the doors up from it horizontally instead of vertically.
Bill got the pages from his binder with the plans he had made for expanding the greenhouse. He had everything on hand that he needed to do the expansion; it had just not made it to the top of the priority list to actually get it done. It should have however, since he was close to the end of the planting window to get a viable crop before short daylight hours and cooler temperatures put a stop to any growing. He would pour a new concrete footing for the short wall, and with luck, would have that part accomplished before the butchering began. Bill set up his outside radio to listen to while he worked. He considered, briefly, whether to tune in the news, college game day or music.
News: nah, I just don’t want to hear any more of that this morning. He had turned the television on while he dressed and again while he was taking care of the morning’s milk. The commander in chief was on both times, stern faced, making an address from an undisclosed location. He assured the nation there was absolutely nothing to worry about. The FBI had numerous viable leads and should be making arrests soon. The perpetrators would be dealt with, blah, blah, blah.
Game day: tempting. College football was his favorite sport, but it had started to sour for him. The whole college football thing just seemed to be getting out of hand. So many schools were switching conferences for the money, severing long time rivalries, the Broncos included. Somehow, they had managed to join and leave a conference in the east without ever playing a game. Now the big schools planned to start paying their players. Shoot, if I wanted to watch professional football, I’d watch on Sunday. Anyway, he was sure Bob would have the game broadcast on that afternoon. The Broncos would be playing Air Force which had the potential to be a very tough game with their unusual option offense. Really, a full day of football talk might be a tad too much.
In the end, music won out. The local public radio station ran a program on Saturday mornings with music that wouldn’t be played on any of the popular music stations. Amy told him there was a good reason for that. He enjoyed hearing the eclectic mix they came up with: folk, blues, Celtic, country, rock, blue grass, and some he had no idea how to classify.
After the radio was set up John Prine’s voice was coming strong
“I don't want your big French Fry, I don't want your car, I don't want to buy no soap, From no washed-up movie star, You are so much louder, Than the show I wanna hear, With your sugarless gum, Gee but I'm dumb, non-alcoholic beer, It's enough to make a grown man Blow up his own TV, Quit hollerin' at me, Quit hollerin' at me”,
He hummed along – good song, John - as he measured everything and staked it, then measured again – only moving one stake. He got his bar, pick and shovel and started digging. Once he moved the loose leaf and dirt surface accumulation be began encountering river rock and sand mixed with the soil. Just once, I’d like to dig something around this place without running into all the danged rocks.
Brad joined him and said Mom and Amanda were making breakfast and offered to help. They made great progress and were ready to start putting up concrete frames when they were called to the house. Bill restrained himself as he wanted to say “Quit hollerin at me”; he knew no one else in the family was familiar with the song and it most likely wouldn’t go over well.
They cleaned up and settled at the table to scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and fresh cantaloupe from the garden. After the blessing, Amy asked sweetly, “So what are you working on today?”
Uh oh, what’s with the tone? Bill told her about the greenhouse expansion, what he hoped to get done before his dad and Bob got back.
“So do you know what I’ve been doing?” she asked, then gave him the answer before he could make a guess. “I’ve been straightening up the house with the news on and then I was working on our bank account. Do you know what was on the news? Nothing new, nothing at all. They are just going over the same stuff as the last few days. However, the president made a short statement. He said the FBI has assured him that the bombings were isolated attacks and they will be making arrests soon. There is nothing to worry about. We should all go back to our normal activities. He also urged everyone to call their congressmen and demand an end to the budget stalemate. He insinuated this would never have happened if not for the sequester, or whatever they called it. See, business as usual. Then of course you know what I saw with the bank account. I can’t believe you spent all that money without discussing it with me first. You gut our account and throw away our retirement savings. And for what? Just some isolated incident like the Boston Marathon bombing. That was a one- time deal, this will be too. Bill, you over reacted and now we don’t have an account to go into retirement.”
He waited patiently for her to vent while he tried to shut John Prine out of his head. He also refrained from asking if the president’s lips were moving when he made his statement. You know how you can tell if a politician is lying? When she was quiet he asked, “Is that all, or do you have anything else?” Her answer was a flat stare.
“Alright then. I had hoped Thursday night we had this covered but I guess I was wrong. What part of my spending is setting you off the most? The garden seed? I buy seed every year. If the good ole boys at the FBI are right, I won’t have to buy seed again for years, if ever. I just made it so we won’t have to spend that money in retirement. How about the food, animal feed? Again, everything I got was stuff we will use, and you know prices are always rising. I spent money now that we would have spent later when we aren’t bringing in a paycheck. Add in inflation and I bet we’ll cover the penalties and taxes from closing the IRA. You remember how our money buys less at the grocery store each month don’t you? The hoop house? I can raise more of our food and save even more money later. You know our freezers and pantry are full of stuff we’ve raised. I’ll do even more now. So what exactly is it?” He didn’t tell her maybe she should go back to not knowing the news and was very glad he hadn’t answered her call to breakfast as per John Prine.
Her eyes were glistening when she looked at him. “I’m scared,” she said very softly. “I’m scared you might be right. I’m scared you might be wrong and are jumping at shadows. No one at work or on the news has come to the same conclusion you did.” He didn’t tell her if she checked different media, she would find many who did agree. “I’m scared for Frances. I still haven’t been able to reach her. I’m scared for our future. You didn’t know my dad and I never talk about him. He died broke and homeless. The county buried him. I don’t want us to be destitute when we retire. Everything is just scaring me right now, I don’t know what to think.”
He reached across the table and took the shaking fork from her and grasped her hand. “I’m not going to give you false assurances. I’ll leave that to the politicians and the talking heads that read the approved news reports. I can only tell you what I see, from study of more angles than the happy-talk guys on TV. Now, I’m not your dad. I had my rough stretch but that’s in the past. Look around. See this house? It is ours. We don’t carry a mortgage. We aren’t going to lose the place and be homeless. Now, look down at your plate. Those eggs, the cantaloupe, the milk in my glass. We produced them here, right here at our home. After tomorrow we will have a freezer full of pork and beef along with the elk meat. We aren’t going hungry. I won’t let that happen. I will take care of you and the kids. Like I just told you, even if nothing comes of this, everything I have done will actually help us later. I pray that I am wrong, and if I am, I will be the happiest guy around. But if I’m right to some degree, we will all be better for it. I don’t think I’m crazy just yet.”
She sniffed, wiped her nose and fought to regain her composure. “All right, I’ll try to support you, but stop surprising me. I have to be part of things and not be blind-sided.”
Just then, Amy’s phone rang. “FRANCES!” Amy nearly shouted into the phone. “I’ve been so worried about you.” She was quiet while Frances started talking; got up from the table and went into the bedroom. Bill hoped that finally hearing from her sister would relieve some of Amy’s anxiety. He finished eating his lukewarm eggs and had an additional slice of cantaloupe. This has so much more flavor than those ones the stores sell that were picked green and shipped hundreds of miles. When he was finished he thanked Amanda for breakfast, washed and went outside to continue the greenhouse project.
*****
The wood forms were in place and Bill was just getting ready to start mixing cement when Amy came out. She pulled him in a tight embrace and held him. “She’s fine. The store was quite a way from her house. She was at work when it happened. She said it has been pretty crazy there since. There is increased police and security presence everywhere.”
“I’m glad she’s fine, and it’s not surprising to hear about the security. And I’m glad to see you are a little less wigged out.”
“Thanks for putting up with me. I was so scared when I couldn’t reach her. It looks like you have a lot of stuff going on today. What can the kids and I do to help?”
“I’d like one of the kids here with me. The other one can help you. I need you to go through the freezers. See what needs fed to the chickens, get everything arranged so we can find what’s what, and make room for a pig and some beef. Also, we need to keep washing canning jars. If you get that done maybe you could go shopping. The reader sign on the pawn shop I pass on the way to work said ‘thirty DVDs for $30’. Maybe you and the kids could find something we would like. And when you are out, fill the van with gas, and I have one empty can that needs filled too. One other thing, when you are in the kitchen, we need the sourdough set out if we are having pancakes in the morning.” Bill always let the starter reach room temperature before mixing in more flour and water.
“All righty then, and what shall I do after lunch?” she asked, some of her sass returning.
“Fetch me my chair, a tall glass of lemonade and my clipboard and I’ll make you a list. No, on second thought, writings too much work. You write, I’ll dictate. “
“Thanks Babe, but maybe I better just get these things done first. You get back to work.” She flashed him a smile and went to the shop to clean and arrange the freezers.
*****
With the cement footing poured, tamped in and the top trowelled and anchor bolts placed, Bill cleaned up the cement mixer and rolled it out of the way. The mixer belonged to Alan. He had purchased it in true family form; at an auction. Some cleaning, bending, welding and a new drive belt later, it was a very dependable machine. Bill and Brad cleaned up the rest of the tools and put them away. Bill had been pleasantly surprised at Brad’s help. He had enjoyed working the cement once it was dumped into the frames, and had trowelled the top to a very smooth surface.
They both cleaned up and Bill switched into a dry shirt. He found one with the elbows worn out and the collar stained and frayed. All four of them had a sandwich, heavy with fresh tomatoes, thinly sliced cucumbers and onions before they separated to continue their day’s work.
Bill went to the bookshelf and pulled out the two books he had studied the previous night, and he and Brad made the walk to Bill’s parent’s house. Alan and Jim had most everything prepped for the task ahead. Cal had a pipe A-frame with a winch mounted to it that was high enough to hang a butchered beef. It was in position with a neck yoke and chains ready on the winch’s cable. On a table nearby was Alan’s knives, the meat saw, the Sawzall reciprocating saw with a new 13” wood blade, wash tubs, dish pans and the twenty-two rifle. Bill never bothered with his own knives when they butchered. “Butcher” would be a good term for the job his knives would do. Alan’s had been purchased over years in the meat packing plant and all were sharp enough to shave with.
“Hey Alan, I want you to look at something here,” Bill said. He set both books down and opened them to the pages he had marked the previous evening. “This is a hog thyroid,” he said pointing, “and this is the one in a cow. I’d like to save them. The pig’s is located pretty much where you stick them to bleed. Do you think you could work around them?”
Alan studied the photos carefully. “Yeah, I think I can miss them. You think that you won’t be able to get your prescription?” Bill had gotten a thyroid disorder called Graves’ Disease. Following his doctor’s advice, his thyroid was irradiated. Now he had to take medication daily; better living through chemistry, if the chemistry was available. In hindsight, we wished he had kept a functioning thyroid and tried to regulate it. But that decision had been made years earlier and there was no going back. It had amazed him how much of the bodies functions was regulated by that one small gland.
“It could happen if there are disruptions. I found some literature that early thyroid medication was from pig glands. Unfortunately, I didn’t find any good clinical information on preparation or dosage. Everything I found was modern use of what they sell as Armour Thyroid; it’s actual pig thyroid. Maybe I can find some old medical texts that cover it, but so far I haven’t had any luck.”
“Well, we better make sure we get them out undamaged. Are you going to freeze them?”
“No. If it comes down to having to experiment with using it, the freezer won’t do me any good. I figure if we have electricity for the freezer, the pharmacies will still be open. I think I’ll dehydrate them, and then vacuum seal them in canning jars and hope and pray for the best.”
While they were waiting and discussing home medications, they located their dad’s hand water pump and looked over his well cap. They were searching through his plumbing parts, hoping to find what they needed to get it operational on the well when Cal and Bob returned. The stock trailer had six hogs, five of which were prime butcher size, an older cow, a young Hereford steer and a jersey heifer.
“It looks like you found everything we wanted,” Alan said. “I was almost hoping you might miss something. That’s a lot of work in that trailer.”
“Yeah, and look what’s in the camper shell,” Bob said. “You can clean and deodorize it after we are done” he told Bill.
Bill went over and looked in. There was a buck goat looking back at him. He appeared to be a mix of Nubian and alpine. “Nice goat you’ve got there. He should take good care of your backyard. Hopefully your neighbors will be understanding when his perfume starts wafting in their window.” Bob’s home was on a small lot with a very well maintained backyard flower garden and container vegetable garden.
“If you want him in your yard, that’s where I’ll put him. It probably won’t take him anytime to figure out your dog door.”
Knowing the nature of goats and his brother alike, Bill could picture it all happening. “Naw, just slip him in the pasture gate. You’ll have me in enough trouble as it is.”
While they looked at the goat Alan had changed into his rubber boots, put on his rubber apron and hooked the chain around his waist holding his metal multiple knife sheath. “Hey, if you’re done flapping your jaws, we’ve got a bit of work to do here.” He directed them to get one of the cows in the makeshift chute he and Jim had set up. He took the rifle, pictured the point where the animal’s ears and eyes made an “X” and shot it from four feet away. As it dropped and started to kick, he directed the panels moved and pulled a sharp knife and expertly cut along the windpipe being careful to avoid the thyroid. He opened the throat from the tongue to the brisket, and worked the knife into the chest cavity to get the blood draining. He went from there to the hind leg in the air, sliced down along the bone and quickly skinned a section off , then finding the hidden joint, cut and broke the foot off, tossing it to one of the waiting dogs. The animal was rolled onto its back with 4x4s stuck alongside to hold it up. Alan started on the other back leg while Bob began to skin the leg Alan had already opened up. All the men in the family were good at butchering, but let Alan with his years in the slaughterhouse get everything started. Soon each person with a knife was skinning while Cal got the hind legs chained to the neck yoke and began to crank the winch. With the rear end at good working height, Cal stopped cranking, and then he and Jim went to get the next cow ready while Bob and Bill continued on the first one.
When the first cow was at the proper height, according to Alan, he came back over, opened the cavity and dropped the guts out into a waiting wash tub. The liver and heart were removed and put in one of the dish pans. He examined the liver, made a couple of cuts and looked closer. “Fluke worms. This one is dog food.” He went back to the other beef, leaving the first for Bob and Bill to complete skinning. When the carcass was hanging at the top of the winch with all of the hide bunching around the head, Alan removed the head then found the thyroid gland and cut it out and handed it to Bill. “Here’s what you wanted, hope you don’t come down to needing it”, then he picked up the head and placed it on the nearby table. He removed all of the head meat and the tongue then carried the head away from the work area and dropped it. One of the dogs dropped the leg bone it had been gnawing on and started to chew on the head.
Bill went to another dishpan and dropped the thyroid gland into it, used the garden hose to fill it with water and rinsed his hands off. He looked it over closely, his thoughts echoing his brother’s; I sure hope I never need this. With his hands mostly clean, he scratched the itch he had been ignoring, and for the first time noticed the smells in the air. The odor of fresh blood was mixed with manure, fresh raw meat smell, and the offensive smell from the tub of guts. Over all the other odors was the ever-present smoke from the forest fires. He wiped his hands once more, ran the knife he was using across the sharpening steel a number of times and rejoined Bob at the beef.
Someone had brought out a radio and tuned it to the football game. What’s Saturday in the fall without college football, after all? The Falcon option was giving the Broncos fits, but the Broncos were holding onto a slim lead. Bill quit concentrating on it and went back to assist Bob.
Bob had the Sawzall in hand and was standing on a step ladder beginning to cut down the middle of the backbone. In the past they had done this step with a hand meat saw. Wow, I like electricity. I’d hate to go back to splitting them by hand, Bill thought. He has doing his best to hold the carcass still for Bob to cut. Once it was split, individual chains were placed to hang each half separately on the A-frame’s main beam. The neck yoke was lowered and chained to the second carcass. Bob put the saw back on the table and picked up the garden hose with the sprayer attached and began to wash the beef halves, picking off any hair he saw and thoroughly cleaning it.
The sun was on the western horizon when the last hog was finally hanging on the rail. The rail had proven to be too short for everything, so Cal had directed his boys to hang three hogs from a beam in his shop. Once the last pig was out of the trailer, Cal and Brad had taken the heifer and goat to Bill’s house and put them in his pasture. While the trailer was there, they had shoveled the manure out into a pile near the garden, then sprayed out what had remained, and hosed out the back of the pickup. His droppings were gone, but it would take a while for Mr. Buck’s odor to fade. Brad picked up Bill’s roll of electric netting fence and put it in the pickup, and they returned the trailer to its parking spot. The fencing was strung around the rail of meat and hooked to an electric fencer and plugged in. It should keep any animals away during the night, especially with all of the scraps and remains that were dragged off to the side.
The radio was turned off and put back in the shop. The Broncos had eventually won by double digits in a tough fought game. The broadcast was now fans calling in: some bragging up the team, others griping about every miscue and missed tackle. The quiet was welcome. Once everything was cleaned and placed in the shop, the weary group trudged into the house. Bill did a final rinse of the thyroids and put them in a plastic bag in the refrigerator until he was ready to head home.
Bob had removed a loin from the first hog they had butchered and sliced it into chops. The women had fried up the chops and added to the bounty from the garden, had a delicious meal waiting.
After finishing a bite of the pork loin, Cal said, “That’s good meat; you did a great job of preparing it. They sure look good hanging out there. Bob, did you tell them about our conversation at the auction?”
“No, I didn’t. Why don’t you go ahead?” Bob didn’t want to waste time talking when he could be eating.
“Well we were sitting by an old fellow at the sale and it turned out it was his hogs we were buying. He said he still had a good bunch of them. He would sell us some breeding stock as well as more butcher hogs when we need them if the world goes to pieces. He can feed for quite a while but thinks that things might get dicey and he will be hard pressed to keep all he has. We got the directions to his place if we need it.”
Brad asked about the heifer and the goat. Bill wanted to kick him from the flash of anger in Amy’s eyes. Yep, she’s not happy about another goat and what his presence means. Cal answered Brad, “That little cow will be calving nest spring. She should give four or five gallons of milk a day, of which we’ll give the calf a couple of quarts. As you well know, some people aren’t exactly fond of goat milk, but we’ll have the best cow milk around. The jersey has lots of cream so we can all have butter. She will be invaluable to us. The goat, well, if you are going to have babies, you’ve got to have a buck. You can always trade or sell any extras.”
Amy was thinking “sell or trade them all now”, but before she could voice her opinion, Amanda told Brad, “Remember Prim in The Hunger Games? It said in the book the goat gave her wealth, having the milk and making cheese. Our goats give us the same chance if things get bad”. Although she loved to read dystopian novels, Amanda had a hard time picturing their world actually falling apart, and she was sure Brad couldn’t. She just wanted to stand up for her dad. She was crazy about the goats, especially new babies. Amy’s lips were pursed tightly as she spared Bill from her glare and directed it at her daughter.
After cleaning up everything from supper everyone left for their own homes, planning on returning at 8:00 the next morning to cut and wrap the meat. Bill, Amy and the kids would have to skip church but it was necessary to get the meat processed. Bill got the bag of thyroid glands out of the refrigerator before he left. Once he was home, he took a dehydrator from the shelf, laid out the glands and started them drying. Amanda and Brad had returned home earlier and taken care of the chickens and goats. Bill was glad he didn’t have to milk. His back and hips were hurting from too much bending in one place. All he wanted to do was sit down in the recliner with a bowl of popcorn; of course he still needed to make it. If Bill had his way, popcorn would be its own food group.
“Amy, why don’t you call your brother and see how things are there after the bombing? Kids, would you mix up the sourdough so we can have pancakes in the morning?” While Amy made the call, he started some butter melting on the stove and got the air-popper out of the cabinet. Amanda and Brad worked together on the sourdough; they poured the starter into a glass bowl, mixed it thoroughly with flour and water, and covered it with a damp cloth. The corn popper was spitting puffed up popcorn out, Bill spooning butter on as it accumulated in the bowl when Amy returned to the kitchen.
“What’s the mood in Ontario?” he asked Amy about the call to her brother.
“Festive. They are either at a bar or a very loud party. I could barely hear anything he said. He said he’ll call tomorrow sometime.” Her face showed both irritation and concern. She didn’t approve of excess drinking.
“Like when he sobers up,” Bill thought, but kept to himself. “Since you’re done with the phone, I’m going to call your sister.” The popper had just finished and Bill was shaking salt over the bowl.
“Why? I told you after she called that she’s fine. The bomb was across town from her.”
“Yeah, I know. But what about the next one? She needs to get out of that hole into a safer place.” He could read the expression on Amy’s face. It was one thing to go along with Bill and his family, but she still wasn’t sold.
Bill made the call and offered Frances a place to stay in the spare bedroom. She refused. He told her to at least be ready to get out of town. She shrugged him off. It was about what he expected, however the seed was planted. He gave her a number of things to think about. Perhaps next time she would be more receptive.
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