A Man for All Things

When I was young, virginal and deluded, I imagined that one man could meet all my needs.

But now I recognize that in a time of climatic catastrophe I require more. Much more.

A tribe, in fact. The only question now is how to make that work.

I started by sharing this realization with my husband of 23 years. He was a little shocked, but I asked simply, "Do you want to be the man who hunts for moose, shoots them dead with no help from Sarah Palin's heliocopter, and then skins them?"

"No," he admitted. "I'd rather not be that man."

"Okay," I said, "I'll find one of those. Now, how about shooting people? I doubt you want to be the man who stands out at the edge and shoots marauders to protect me?"

Much to my surprise, he said: "I would do that!"

Really? Twenty-two years of marriage and I never knew!

So, now that I know that I have my own personal National Guard (apparently he's even had weapons training!) I can focus my attention on hunters, gatherers, healers and engineers.

The question is, what else do I need to complete my tribe, and how shall I break them in to do my bidding?

Making a List, Checking it Twice

I have just returned from the grocery store, where many shelves were completely bare.

I had not previously noticed that hot cocoa usually occupies a good 12-foot stretch of aisle 16. But the gaping hole left by Swiss Miss and Nestle immediately suggested haggard shoppers stripping the shelves like so many Soviet-era Russians in search of rare foodstuffs.

The absence of eggs, bread and Lay's snack foods was simply alarming. Clearly, the storms that have gripped the Northwest for more than a week now have immobilized the modern food chain, dependent as it is on transportation.

Without a break in the weather, shortages and riots could be in the offing. Thank heavens most folks are stocked up for Christmas (and the rest of us know what to do with a potato, an onion and a little oil...)

Truly, this turn of events gives us a tiny glimpse into the coming ice age. Sudden, bitter cold, an unprecedented accumulation of snow and ice (the ice is easily a foot deep in many locations), and a complete break down in our usual ways of doing business is disrupting routines, challenging our infrastructure, and revealing the weak who will surely collapse under the slightest pressure of climate change.

Based on this fascinating week, here's what I know for sure:

1. I require at least one strapping man with an engineering mind (who is also be able to take direction) to perform such tasks as clearing a path, carrying firewood, and engineering work-arounds when systems such as electricity and road maintenance fail completely.
2. When picking a puppy, select the one delighted by the snow. That way you'll always have the potential of a sled dog, should you need one. Dogs that require a sweater to go outside for business are a liability to their owners and surely spell doom for their slavishly devoted people in the event of an ice age!
3. Everybody needs a tribe. Your own willingness to help a stray is the measure of your likely survival. When picking a stray, however, be sure to take number 1 and 2 into account.
4. God bless the Australians who made the sherling boots currently keeping my peds warm and dry! When the ice age descends, I simply must have well-crafted boots with good traction. And if the ice age is going to press me to make my own replacements, then I want sheep and whatever else it takes to perform such sherling miracles!
5. A simple knit cap is manna from heaven (though the currently trendy mad bomber hat is a fantabulous addition for going outside!).
6. Gloves just make your hands cold. Mittens are the only way to go!

Keep warm! Be safe! And start making a list.

Lacking the gene for survival...

Alright, I've been absent for nearly three months. AWOL. Traveling, working--doing everything but blogging. And thinking there was no real need...after all, it seemed (in the warm glow of the fading autumn) that climate change must have been a figment of the collective imagination...a mistake...a rouse...the straight line for "drill baby drill."

Never mind that scientists recently reported that 2 trillion tons of land ice (sweetly abbreviated 2T Ice, as if it were a simple kitchen ingredient) has melted from Greenland over the past 5 years, resulting in a measurable rise in the oceans. Never mind that Saudi Arabia recently opened two gigantic new oil fields that "promise" to deliver more oil than human kind has consumed thus far. Never mind that there is now a hole in the earth's magnetic field (okay, so that's probably unrelated, but it does sound a bit more dramatic than a hole in the ozone layer--that's just so last century).

So many words.

And like so many, I was distracted by other interesting things. My quickly emptying nest. An historic election. Opportunities to explore my notion that an island is simply the opportunity to see the ocean from many perspectives...

And then came the snow. And the ice. And the snow.

For days ice has followed snow has followed wind has followed snow. Nothing too unusual for Boston. Or Denver. Or Wasilla. But for the moderate Pacific Northwest, this is something!

And I have been reminded: we are doomed! Simply doomed!!

Look down now. If you have webbed feet, you're toast. There is no way for Pacific Northwesterners to survive the coming ice age!

Here's why: First, we are transfixed by weather-related news stories! In the event of a real catastrophe, we will drown while waiting for the next Doppler update to break into the emergency broadcasting network instructions for evacuation.

Secondly, we are unable to educate our young. It goes without saying that all school is cancelled upon sighting of the first snowflake. With ever-increasing rounds of inclement weather, this puts a whole generation at risk of ill-literacy.

But more importantly, we are unable to plan for the inevitable (and the simple).

We were all properly appalled by the bungled evacuation of New Orleans for Hurricane Katrina--the shock and surprise at gas lines and traffic jams. And yet, our self-righteousness is compuh-letely unwarranted. We are equally vulnerable to oblivion by the obvious.

Here in the Pacific Northwest, we cannot even plow the roads. It is not for lack of preparation--we have had weather updates every half hour since the storm originally appeared on radar--nearly three days before it arrived. In fact, last night, there were three weather updates during Saturday Night Live alone, each explaining that the Doppler radar had been switched to "winter mode" so that the storm would appear in white on the map, making it "easier to detect." As if we couldn't see the amassing snow and ice out side the window!

And it is not for lack of equipment. There are plows circling everywhere--blades mysteriously up.

No, we are suffering from some deeper malady. Some clear but unnamed desire to languish as the waters rise, as witnessed by the intersections here in the Capital City.

Although roads around the city have been randomly plowed--cleared for stretches then randomly left to the vagaries of traffic-induced rutting for a stretch, then cleared, then abandoned--in no case has an intersection been cleared.

Not the entrance to the mall. Nor the Costco. Not the intersection leading to the State Capitol and all the government buildings. Not the intersection that joins a major commercial thoroughfare to the Interstate. I can say with perfect assurance that every major intersection is blocked by two feet of churned up snow requiring four-wheel drive and the clearance of a Hummer to pass.

I take this to mean that we simply lack the will to survive. It's the same lethargy that explains the performance of all Seattle sports teams.

It's just too much trouble to figure out what makes sense, what needs to be done, what would help get us past our most immediate thought to the days beyond.

If climate change comes in a scenic, nature-loving way, the kind where we can hop in our kayaks and go for a good paddle, we will be fine. Even if we find ourselves water-borne for weeks, we'll be fine, taking an occasional pause from paddling to eat smoked salmon and sip a fine merlot.

But if it's more violent--and icy, well, we simply lack the will to survive. And like the people of Pompeii, we'll leave a perfectly preserved example of Americans going about business as usual, unaware of danger in the offing.

And realizing this, I am back from my hiatus.