We Don’t Have To Practice Being Miserable
Monday, December 14th, 2009Author Linda Brady Traynham
Leftists have said censoriously for years that all of us are only one catastrophe away from being homeless, which is absurd. Most of us are no such thing, although it is becoming less so with each new tax and every additional regulation and restriction and every drop in the value of the dollar. My critics will probably call me “heartless” and “elitist scum,” which I think means that they find any sort of stability and security offensive because their goal is to have us huddled in slums, tent cities, and WWII era duplexes trying to live off their generous handouts of the last living capitalist’s earnings.
Linda! You can’t possibly mean that! Well…okay, that’s hyperbole, but it still isn’t all that far off the mark. Statism leads invariably to bleak misery, be it in East Germany, North Korea, or a banana republic. There is always an elite that lives comparatively well (although usually in fear because losing your job means a bullet in the back of your neck or a gulag) but for the preponderance of the population increasing state control means rising oppression and depression.
I have had several odd experiences lately the demonstrate that even sweet, pampered, heartless elitist scum can find themselves in scary, miserable circumstances–which indicates to me that we had better become more serious about preserving our ways of life and our stored value. It really is possible to confuse the unlikely with the impossible and to fail to plan ahead, and the results can be quite unpleasant. I’m good at what I do, which is ensuring that my family is comfortable, well-fed, and has whatever is needed at all times. A basic rule is “Don’t make the same mistakes I did; go find some new mistakes to make!”
In the last month I have discovered first hand all I need to know to confirm my theory that we wouldn’t like it if we were unprepared for TEOTWAWKI. A month or so ago we spent a long weekend with Tex Norton–a delightful host and raconteur–at his lakehouse. Well…not exactly, because Tex is in the process of renovating his beautiful water-front home, so the plan was that we would hitch up our beloved Casita and stay in it. Now, I know better than to let men change my plans, but my darling Charles is such a sweetheart I never argue with him about anything (and vice versa!), it was a far more comfortable drive not pulling the Little House, and we knew that there is a marvelous bed and breakfast literally next door. Instead of just tossing what I needed in the Casita I had to go find suitcases and so forth, which distracted me. Tex had fixed us a great dinner and we talked until nearly midnight (Yes, this really does have to do with economics.) and Charles and I went to our lavish suite to unwind (the conversation was quite stimulating!) and end with our bedtime ritual of a few games of Spider Solitaire for him and Free Cell for me…and a night-night snack.
In my entire life I have never been hungry for any reason other than vanity. Charles has never gone hungry for longer than “Dinner will be ready in half an hour.” There we were, in the wilds of the hill country, with an automobile with plenty of gas and a pleasant amount of cash because we were going to a charity function the next evening…and two pretty good minds could not come up with a way to get a peanut butter sandwich.
It was a 25-mile trip over winding mountain road to the nearest townlet, and I perused the telephone book from cover to cover without finding a single place open all night. Hmmm. The refrigerator was bare other than a can to put fish-frying grease in. It was empty, too. I looked. We recalled a sign that says, “Do not feed the collies,” and speculated on the possibility of cadging a handful of kibble from them. We pondered beginning a life of crime, breaking into the tiny local grocery store, expecting to be found by the police munching happily, and pointing to a note we had written apologizing with a stack of money for what we ate, the cost of the broken window, and the inconvenience we had caused. We decided, regretfully, that we were too old to go to jail and that probably they don’t have night-night snacks in prison, either. We bemoaned the well-stocked Casita and the fact that the truck we pull it with always has Cheetos and good trail mix. By that time those sounded like gourmet fare. It really isn’t decent to pound on your host’s door and ask if you can raid his refrigerator. There was no food, and that was that.
Technically, we did not have to go to bed hungry. We could have gotten in the Cherokee and driven roughly a hundred miles to Austin for the holy grail of hungry travelers, an IHOP. I am quite serious when I say that if anyone had offered me a big bacon omelet for a hundred dollars, delivered, I would have paid for two joyously. No one did.
THAT, dear readers, is where most of us will be if the food supply distribution network breaks down, ranging from the three-days’ stock there is at most in cities, give or take what’s in individual pantries and refrigerators. The difference is that you wouldn’t be able to get food by driving a couple of hundred miles, because the shelves will be bare there, too.
I did not say, “If you had taken the Casita like we had planned we wouldn’t be hungry.” Fond smile…Charles said that. HE didn’t say, “If you had thought things through and planned ahead we wouldn’t be hungry.” I said that! I am the one responsible for seeing that that dear man never goes without his late night sandwich and a supply of tea.
This isn’t trivial. Lack of planning and preparation will get you killed. Utter joy was the enormous delicious breakfast we had the next morning. When we went to town we bought three bags of iron rations! The best part was that we learned that even we can panic: right outside our door were three pear trees drooping with ripe fruit we were welcome to. Do you know how dumb you feel when you walk outside the next day and realize you had been thinking like a city slicker, not a farmer or pioneer?!
We came back from our place in the Hill Country tonight in the middle of a Norther…and the heater isn’t working. Uh. I am writing this wearing three layers of “turtle fur” acrylic warmth preservers and wrapped in a blanket, taking frequent breaks to put my shaking hands in my pockets. There is an enormous fire in the fireplace, but our bedroom can’t be more than 40 degrees and my nose was an icicyle when I woke up. Yes, we could have gone into town and spent the night in a hotel, but I miscalculated how unpleasant it was going to be. Ch-Ch-Ch-Charles and I sn-snuggled fr-frigidly until we warmed up the sheets and radiated enough body heat for the down comforter to hold in. That worked for about five hours, at which time my exposed head rebelled and started coughing and sneezing.
Lack of planning and preparation and bad judgement can get you killed. An interesting publication put out twice a year contains reports of climbing accidents in America. Almost without exception, death or injury resulted from 1. being underprepared, 2. overestimating the climber’s ability, or 3. some other form of bad judgement, such as ignoring weather reports. In ordinary life we don’t run around wearing two hundred dollar silk underwear and an eight hundred dollar down-filled parka, with a first aid kit, an artic sleeping bag, a camp stove, and carefully-thought-out food supplies, as mountain climbers do. If disaster strikes suddenly you will have whatever is in your car and/or whatever is in your home. Darn it, Elitist Scum aren’t supposed to be sitting here utterly miserable because the heater blew a fuse or whatever it did and somebody wandered off with both heating pads and the electric blanket (probably in one of the trailers the hands use.)
Believe me: if it can happen to me, it can happen to you. I pride myself on being the world’s greatest amateur Quarter Master, the one who never has to admit there aren’t two unopened jars of mayonnaise, lots of flashlight batteries, and three ways too repair broken glasses.
Repeated acts of charity all this year finally landed us with a houseguest for a month who kept using our cars and returning them with the “I want gas NOW” lights on–and rendering our lives hideous with noisy fights with her former boyfriend. The oil business is in shock, and after 25 years of making $400/day, she has been out of work for months. How can you begrudge a friend a meal? How can you not offer her the use of a spare RV and the few utilities she will consume, when her electricity has been shut off? She finally got a job offer and left last Monday. In order to get her out of here (breathing sighs of gratitude and relief, ourselves) we “had” to have one of our spare cars registered, insured, and inspected because without transportation she couldn’t go. Thidwicke the Big-Hearted Moose, trying to shed his antlers.
We came back from the funeral and discovered she had returned Thursday and is still in town! Well…the project is just starting up, so perhaps her new boss told them all to take a long weekend…but does it make any sense to put over 800 miles on our car and spend money she borrowed from someone else that needs to feed her to come back and make one more try at getting her old boyfriend back? Not to me, it doesn’t. Our foreman, the permanently fed up former boyfriend, let her doss on the couch when she showed up at 2 a.m. Having failed to get him back, she downed a new bottle of Tullamore Dew and one of O’Mara’s Irish Cream, and emptied three decanters–and took the other sealed bottle of Tullamore Dew with her when she left! Gee, not only is that a little abusive of hospitality we hadn’t offered, but recall she is driving our car on our insurance.
The moral is that it is time to consider hardening our hearts–all of us. Don’t take that first fatal step, particularly when times are bad.
Tony De Maio has a fabulous fable about the Good Samaritan I should have paid attention to. Nothing good comes of not going your way after doing one easy, obvious act of kindness. The more we give, the more many demand. If this is what can happen when someone who has made over a hundred thousand dollars a year for over two decades falls on hard times, what do you think will result from taking in refugees if there are real food shortages? Simple arithmetic: food that will last the three of us a month will only suffice for four for three weeks. If you let a desperate couple with two small children shelter with your family because they are hungry and have no place to sleep, you will cut your own chances of survival in half, if there are four of you. Don’t do it.
Kevin says:
December 15th, 2009
5:12 pm
As it is written: “No good deed goes unpunished”.
I remember my mother doing excellent business out of the pantry during winter snow storms when we were growing up. Often times these were folks who should have known better, but didn’t want to take the time. It’s a lesson I’ve taken to heart, always be prepared.
Linda Brady Traynham says:
December 15th, 2009
8:29 pm
Kevin, what a nice story. I love it. I’m thinking that we are all going to have to learn to harden our hearts to protect our families…
Kevin says:
December 15th, 2009
9:10 pm
Well everybody has to draw their own line of course, but it’s always important to make sure that people can pull their own weight. Too many people are fat and lazy. They think electricity comes from the outlet and food from the store. There is a place for charity, but make sure it goes through an organisation like a church.
Now I’ll admit I learned that lesson the hard way.
Jennifer B says:
December 16th, 2009
6:15 am
Discovered this website. Can’t wait to dig in. I actually work at a Walmart, unbelievably, and see the throngs every day filling the carts. It is mind-boggling the things that now come already packaged and ready to eat. My hardy grandmothers would not believe it. Since we live 30 minutes from any provisions, we think way ahead. And then yes, we do have the chickens, just got some fancy hogs, and spent too much of our stash on a cellar. Admittedly, we did not think this way when we were younger, but boy, do we now. We took a camping trip to Colorado this summer spontaneously, actually decided to go in the morning and left in the evening, and really didn’t need to buy anything extra. We were so proud. Got to go give out the $4.00 rxs.
Jennifer
Kristen Hall says:
December 16th, 2009
12:21 pm
Great article, Linda! We have a “graduate degree” in helping people who then take advantage of our kindness. We have done what we could for homeless “will work for food” people (they don’t), people between marriages (for good reason) and all kinds of people in other categories. Our rule of thumb has become – if they aren’t immediate family, they’re on their own. I know how heartless and cold that sounds. It doesn’t mean that we won’t offer a kindness to strangers – we just don’t let them LIVE with us and eat the pantry empty. Better that if they are hungry we bring them a little something, rather than give them free access to put us in their position.
Linda Brady Traynham says:
December 18th, 2009
12:45 am
Kristen, it sounds no such thing. It sounds kind, practical, efficient, and beneficial to the characters of those who have been thrust into a habit of dependency. Charity begins at home and spreads to churches and schools. The entitlement mentality and the political rewards pushing it has brought are one of the primary factors that destroyed our economy and our national character. A helping hand up, sure. A hand out, no.
Linda Brady Traynham says:
December 18th, 2009
12:53 am
HI, Jennifer! I’m so glad you got over here from W&G; we’re a spin-off! Here is where we’re friends, and everyone is encouraged to write, and we can talk about everything we want to. “It is mind-boggling the things that now come already packaged and ready to eat. My hardy grandmothers would not believe it.” Isn’t it though? Overpriced, bad nutrition, not much taste, but so eeeeeasy. Ugh. “Since we live 30 minutes from any provisions, we think way ahead. And then yes, we do have the chickens,” LUCKY you to live that far out (and to work at Wal-Mart while you still have to work) and I’m so GLAD you have chickens! Crew, the Jen-B wrote about how much her cow adds to her life! She’s our sort of lady. Kristen has goats and lives in the country, too. What kind of hogs? We trapped ours wild! As to the root and storage cellar, that is a MAJOR upgrade I wish I had. Cellars are almost unheard of in central Texas. Kristen lives in VA. How about you? To me, REAL wealth is not wanting anything pretty reasonable that you cannot have. No, I cannot have Liz Taylor diamond earrings, but those are scarcely reasonable. I can’t have a limousine and I would hate one. I DO have a gorgeous collection of old Jaguars which you can get for two to five thousand, no more than ten, quite easily. What YOU have is freedom from most petty bureaucrats and from crowds and noise. You have your husband around far more than most. You have dreams for the future and livestock. Some lovely day you’ll get a milk goat! If THAT isn’t riches, what is it? I’m so glad for you, and your letters always lift my heart. Thanks a lot! Hugs, Linda
Linda Brady Traynham says:
December 18th, 2009
1:00 am
Right all down the line, Kevin. Thanks. I told my odd stories to show how life is changing and how “charity” and lack of planning are more dangerous than ever. The world is changing, and those of us who live through it will have a far better one because the leeches and drones are going to die from the inability to take care of themselves or the character flaws that lead them to believe they can take what they want and get away with it. No, of course I don’t want to see people die. I want them to learn to take care of themselves and their children and their own problems just as we all work to do. The luxuries we could have had were stolen from us so that others could defy the basic rules this country was founded on: freedom, sanctity of private property, “If you don’t work you don’t eat,” and that we are one nation under good, united, NOT diverse. Variety is nice in menus and shoes; it is no way to forge a nation. Do all of you who write know how much you add to my life? Thank you. Hugs, Linda
C Harriger says:
December 21st, 2009
10:01 am
Your story of hunger late at night brought back a memory from 50 years ago. I was 17 and my father had dropped me off in a wilderness area called Silver Creek for the purpose of scouting some old beaver dams. Dead of winter with average snow depth of two feet or more. I lost track of time and started out too late. No food since morning. Here is the interesting revelation on hunger i have never forgotten. In the dark of night in the forest i dreamed of simple food not exotic food. Only when we have the daily ordinary foods do we long for the steak and seafood dishes. I hit the back door around 10 at night and asked for buttered bread and baked beans from a can. Nothing else sounded good. Love your writing, keep it up. c-
Linda Brady Traynham says:
December 22nd, 2009
8:12 am
The simple things are the best, aren’t they, C? My mother would make a quick batch of cornbread when we came in late from a trip because that heavy, rich bread meant “home” and comfort to HER. A slice of meat or cheese does it for me…or simple, rich mashed potatoes. How good it is to remember like this. I had forgotten the cornbread story a few months ago until my brother told me how bitterly HE remembered it as cornbread and milk for dinner, which made him feel poor. I think it was 20 minutes to something hot, myself, because Mother was very, very aware of the Depression. She virtually never almost never served hamburger in any form–meatloaf perhaps twice a year, I guess hamburgers once the other two quarters, and NOTHING would have induced her to put bread crumbs in it because that was proof positive of POVERTY. No, Mother, if you mix eggs and pepperidge farm into 84% lean ground chuck it holds in just the right amount of fat! Oh, goodness, what a riot I am, too. I just realized that in my mind boiled beans mean poverty! Not good, rich baked beans with lots of molasses, brown sugar, extra bacon, mustard, and so forth, but navy beans or pinto beans. Tiny new green lima beans smothered in butter, now, are better than ice cream! A meatless meal? We will all starve to death, of course. Laughter…actually, Mother DID teach me that if you open the freezer and nothing falls on your foot WE’RE ALL GOING TO STARVE TO DEATH! I joke about it, but to her it wasn’t funny. I can’t bare to see empty plates or dishes on the table; obviously there wasn’t enough if there aren’t scraps left for the dogs…and that’s my South’n heritage: the worst thing that could possibly happen is to run out of anything on the table when there are guests. That would be a disgrace so low and deep that the family would never recover and someone would blackball you at a club. How absurd I am. Is anything “unthinkable” any more? Thanks for writing; y’all come back to see us. Did you trap any beaver? Can you tell me how to tan their hides? Linda
C Harriger says:
December 23rd, 2009
9:33 am
Never got to trap the beaver. Poachers move in before the regular season opens and clean the creatures out.Tough lesson for a young man who wasn’t taught that way. The Red Fox is another story. Apprenticed for two years with an old trapper and got good at that trade. I had forgotten about trapping until one day i was substitute teaching in a local high school when a TV came on over my head with some nonsense and ended with a bear and a large trap slamming shut. I asked if any of them had ever killed anything hunting, fishing or trapping. They couldn’t imagine such a thing other than one or two boys who had been fishing. I proceeded to tell my story including the killing of the fox by standing on his chest to avoid any blood shedding that would spoil the site. You hated to give up a good location and blood would taint the ground in that spot. The fox is in fact a pretty wily creature. I then described skinning from nose to tail, stretching and salting the hide. They were on the verge of puking by that point. Revenge for their snotty attitude towards subs. Some of us really do know things they could never imagine and the best part is the fact that this was all normal in the life of a teenage boy back then. By the way, the fox brought four dollars per hide from the state. Bounty money. c-
Linda Brady Traynham says:
December 24th, 2009
3:29 am
Fascinating, CH, thanks! Aren’t you GLAD we didn’t grow up like “normal” people?! Salt the hide down, huh? I’ve heard of using brains and tannin…Linda
Vernon says:
December 28th, 2009
6:52 am
Linda,
Just discovered your writing over at Whiskey and Gunpowder. Awesome and inspirational don’t begin to do justice to describe your writing. Your whole philosophy resonates deeply with my own. I tried responding to one of your posts over there, but it never showed up, so thought I would try over here.
I read “Patriots” in just over a day. Wouldn’t have taken so long if I hadn’t had to waste time with work and sleep in between chapters!! Your comments about the group needing to produce something useful really added a whole new dimension to my thinking. Thank You!
After reading your writings that first day, I spent the whole next day at work lost in a daydream. Short version: I get an early retirement from the Post Office next year (allowing a modest self sufficiency), join your community and build a wooden boat with a coal fired steam engine and power take off for all the industrial equipment to be carried on board from place to place to provide needed services in the post TEOTWAWKI world. I grew up on a farm, have a degree in Aerospace Engineering and one in Computer Science and have taken a couple of classes in metal working, so I think I at least have the potential to be a contributing part of a community like yours. I am also a decent shot with a pistol, shotgun and rifle (30 round magazine into a 3″ target at 100 yards in about 20 seconds with my AR-15) and have a firm belief in the right and obligation of a man to protect the people and place that are his own.
There is property available near me in southwest Washington that would be good for a retreat. I have family and friends who are very like minded. Unfortunately, I think we are running out of time. Your writing has inspired me to take a hard look at what is really important and make a concerted effort to beat the looming deadline.
Thank you, again for your wonderful writing.
Vernon