|My grandmother and me in 1965|
Sunday, April 5, 2015
Preparedness and Non-Preppers
Non-preppers just do not believe that bad things can happen.
They need to believe that there will never be an earthquake, a flood, or a random terrorist attack.
They think—at best—preparedness is quaint, or—at worst—crazy. Perhaps delusion is a greater opiate than religion for the masses.
A while back, my ex-wife asked what my daughter and I done during our weekend together. My daughter volunteered about the 72-hour bags we had built.
Her mother—not intending any negativity—smiled and said “Well, in case of an emergency we’ll go to daddy’s.”
In the case of an emergency, I have provided for my daughter. If my ex-wife were my wife, she would have a bag too, but as an ex, the harsh truth is that my daughter is protected first and me second. Were I still married, it would be daughter first, wife second, and me last.
My ex is not opportunistic, ill-intentioned, selfish, or in any way non-supportive of safety, she just does not see the immediacy of now as I see it.
Those of us who prepare need to be OK with looking a bit crazy, but quietly we need to urge the non-believers to see that being prepared is virtue and an act of love—especially if we are parents.
I take that one step further as an owner of animals. I need to have their safety buttoned down for 72 hours and after that as long as I can before it impinges on my child.
My child always comes first.
My first post was provocative in the sense that it hinted a coming out of the closet, but survivalism and preparedness are the earmarks of responsibility.
There is nothing crazy in that.
The ultimate act of love as a man—for me—is preparing—as best I can—for those I love.
My mother is a prepper.
I know members of my family are preppers now that I have come out of hiding.
In no way do I consider myself an expert.
But I am an expert about life in that I have the common sense to look, learn, and respond intelligently.