The in Haiti earthquake coverage, combined with my recent discovery that the San Andreas fault is only a few miles from my home, makes me want to stockpile cans of food, candles, space blankets, etc. (But where to put it? How do you know what part of your house won't fall down? I'm told that isn't a problem in a one-story home--which mine is. Still, if one is making a survival kit, one needs to think of everything.) Storage is a consideration, but it isn't my biggest obstacle. Putting the thing together is.
I've created numerous "preparedness kits" through the years. I gather all the items the media says we need to survive a disaster. I package it according to the current recommendations. (Which seem to change each decade.) I ignore the rolling eyes and derision of those close to me ("Not even in a disaster would I eat that!") I try to keep the kit up-to-date, and sometimes I even succeed for a few years.
Then something life-changing happens, like moving to a different house, and my good intentions get lost in the shuffle. I'm kind of weary of the routine. I'm not sure I have the energy to create yet another viable kit. I'm thinking the canned Spaghetti-Os in the pantry and water bottles in the laundry room might be it, for now.
But, wait--I don't have to start from scratch this time! While sifting through the detritus of my recent move, I found the cute little radio/light/siren combination I bought about 15 years ago. It's powered by battery, hand crank, or solar cell (which wasn't too helpful in solar-less Seattle.) And, it's purple! I love purple!
I thought I'd made a bad purchase when I lived in Seattle because I couldn't crank the handle enough to make the radio work for even a couple of minutes. What good would that be after the batteries died while we waited days for government assistance? Then I noticed the solar cell glinting on the handle. Hey, this is the desert! We got solar energy--lots of it! I took my little purple buddy into the front yard and set it in the sun. I left it there for a number of hours. (OK, I forgot about it.) When I remembered to bring it in, miracles happened.
The light lit, the siren mourned, and I listened to music for about three hours. I feel like a kid who rediscovered a favorite toy. When the "Big One" comes, I'll be able to listen to radio, if it doesn't get squashed by rubble and if anyone is broadcasting. (If they're not, I can amuse myself for hours with the blinking red light.)
OK, I'm ready now. Maybe I'll even get some canned tuna to go with the Spaghetti-Os.
Then something life-changing happens, like moving to a different house, and my good intentions get lost in the shuffle. I'm kind of weary of the routine. I'm not sure I have the energy to create yet another viable kit. I'm thinking the canned Spaghetti-Os in the pantry and water bottles in the laundry room might be it, for now.
But, wait--I don't have to start from scratch this time! While sifting through the detritus of my recent move, I found the cute little radio/light/siren combination I bought about 15 years ago. It's powered by battery, hand crank, or solar cell (which wasn't too helpful in solar-less Seattle.) And, it's purple! I love purple!
I thought I'd made a bad purchase when I lived in Seattle because I couldn't crank the handle enough to make the radio work for even a couple of minutes. What good would that be after the batteries died while we waited days for government assistance? Then I noticed the solar cell glinting on the handle. Hey, this is the desert! We got solar energy--lots of it! I took my little purple buddy into the front yard and set it in the sun. I left it there for a number of hours. (OK, I forgot about it.) When I remembered to bring it in, miracles happened.
The light lit, the siren mourned, and I listened to music for about three hours. I feel like a kid who rediscovered a favorite toy. When the "Big One" comes, I'll be able to listen to radio, if it doesn't get squashed by rubble and if anyone is broadcasting. (If they're not, I can amuse myself for hours with the blinking red light.)
OK, I'm ready now. Maybe I'll even get some canned tuna to go with the Spaghetti-Os.
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2 comments:
Well, huh. I wonder how my solar yard lights continue to glow each night here in Seattle, even in the winter. Must be magic. Guess I'll get me a purple radio, too.
Yup, purple is the magic. Your yard lights may glow, but can they give you 4 hours of the music of your choice? (Or emergency broadcast messages?)
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