I think I’m “doomsday prepared” because I have cases of canned corn and one (1) box of powdered milk in the basement, then I speak to my friend in California and learn she has flint to start a fire and four foil-lined marathon blankets tucked away in a box with a crank radio and enough granola bars and water to last for two weeks for her family, and I think, crap, I need to step it up.
It’s for earthquakes, she says, as if life is one big game of the Oregon Trail (see 1980’s computer games) and we’re all going to croak somehow, it’s just a matter of which ridiculous way. Natural disaster? War with aliens? Or, as the Oregon Trail would have it, dysentery? Typhoid fever? Will I be run over by oxen in a stampede?
I am not doomsday prepared.
Nor earthquake prepared.
I could not lead a mission in an 1980’s computer game.
A massive fire broke out in town yesterday destroying the homes of a dozen families. Everything they own has been destroyed.
Think about it, everything they own is gone.
All of their possessions.
So much for doomsday prepared boxes, 24 cans of corn and a charred foil blanket, what good would all of that do you when you’re being told run?
The community has really come together on this. Emails are going around with details about the families and what items they need and what can be donated. A cook in a popular restaurant who lost his home is worried about his sons, ages 7, 8 and 2. Another family has three daughters, age 14, 11 and 4; the parents need clothes, too.
So here we are with all this stuff. And just like that you can find yourself with none of it, standing on a street corner with a child wrapped in a blanket saying just thank god we’re alive.
In a time like this, what’s helping most is people.
Score for Mankind.