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When I was 11, I was trapped in a blizzard with 20 other people for three days. We ran out of food, and had to kill our (pet) chickens.
It was only three days, but it left an indelible impression; killing and eating one’s pets out of hunger tends to do that.
It was only three days, but it left an indelible impression; killing and eating one’s pets out of hunger tends to do that.
My grandmother was the eldest of 14 children, all of whom were raised on a dairy farm by their grandparents during the Great Depression.
Later, my grandfather went to war as an MP in WWII France, and my grandmother stayed home and planted victory gardens.
She told me stories.
Later, my grandfather went to war as an MP in WWII France, and my grandmother stayed home and planted victory gardens.
She told me stories.
My great-great grandmother crossed the US on a wagon train, and spent an entire winter in a hole she had dug into the side of a riverbank, working to keep her children alive.
I have her diary.
I have her diary.
What I’ve learned from all of these stories, and from my own, is that surviving a crisis doesn’t often to seem to call for guns or violence like it always seems to in the movies.
You know what it does seem to require, in almost every case?
Organization. Assessment. Planning. Cleaning. Lots of cooking, food preparation, and storage. Careful interpersonal maintenance and management, which most often comes in the form of attentive kindness. Community.
Organization. Assessment. Planning. Cleaning. Lots of cooking, food preparation, and storage. Careful interpersonal maintenance and management, which most often comes in the form of attentive kindness. Community.
These actions, none of which are violent, are the real movers and shakers that make the difference during times of true hardship.
Maybe it’s time we start celebrating the stories of the moms and grandmamas who’ve been keeping us alive through this kind of thing for centuries.
Maybe it’s time we start celebrating the stories of the moms and grandmamas who’ve been keeping us alive through this kind of thing for centuries.
The real heroes usually aren’t the people carrying guns, daydreaming of the day they might get to use them. They’re the ones making sure the rest of us have full bellies, warm places to sleep, and a shoulder to cry on when we need one.
The number of people who are upset because we killed some chickens to feed twenty people during a blizzard...on a farm...in rural Pennsylvania is pretty astounding
Everyone who replies to this comment with “you can go a week without food” is welcome to do just that (and force 11 children to do the same) then report back.
Otherwise, STFU.
Otherwise, STFU.
There were 20 people, 11 of whom were children. We ate the chickens.
Just like you’d eat that high horse you rode in on before you got to day four.
Just like you’d eat that high horse you rode in on before you got to day four.
