Good to see the Times running this -- in the Home & Garden section! For a local treatment of home preparedness, see Prepared Tompkins:
http://www.preparedtompkins.org/ Jon ================================================================== The New York Times July 31, 2008 She's Ready: Just Add Water By STEVEN KURUTZ Cummington, Mass. One Friday afternoon a few weeks ago, as cable news channels carried bulletins that two government-sponsored mortgage lenders might go bankrupt, Kathy Harrison stood in the kitchen of her two-story, 19th-century farmhouse here, about 20 miles northwest of Northampton, laying out herbs from the garden. With commentators throwing around phrases like "mortgage meltdown" and "peak oil," the American economy seemed, at least to some, at the edge of an abyss, but all was calm in the Harrison household. Two loaves of bread, baked fresh that morning, sat on the counter. Mrs. Harrison’s daughters, Karen, 14, and Phoebe, 5, were laughing and playing dress-up, while her husband, Bruce, 62, stood at his wife’s side. Plenty of Americans, to be sure, have kept their cool in the face of the recent crises, believing that troubles bubbling up around them will not, in the end, be all that severe; or will not touch their own lives in a significant way; or, if they are and if they do -- well, that’s a bridge to cross later. The obvious peace of mind in the Harrison household is of a different order, and has something to do with the provisions Mrs. Harrison has stockpiled throughout the house, which include cans of powdered milk; several hundred pounds of wheat berry, oats, flour and rice; water purification tablets; shelves of toothpaste and toilet paper; a solar oven; packs of hermetically sealed seeds; and other items to sustain the family in an emergency. Mrs. Harrison believes in home preparedness, and after readying her own home for a worst-case scenario -- be it a flood or a nuclear or bioterrorist attack -- she has written a book, "Just in Case: How to Be Self-Sufficient When the Unexpected Happens" (Storey Publishing, $16.95), to help others do the same. Written in the information-rich style of a manual, the book is full of practical tips. What affordable bedding preserves heat best? PrimaLoft comforters, according to Mrs. Harrison’s informal tests. What company makes "the Cadillac of nonelectric lamps," using kerosene? Aladdin, Mrs. Harrison notes. Her wisdom is delivered in a tone of pioneer optimism. "In a time of crisis you want to start the day with a good breakfast," she writes, introducing a recipe for something called cornmeal mush. The book, which draws on Mrs. Harrison’s wide reading in the literature of preparedness, as well as books on narrower subjects like canning, cheesemaking and felling trees, is notable for discussing what to do in the event of a chemical attack without detouring into panic-mongering territory. "I don’t expect someone to drop a nuke on me," said Mrs. Harrison, 56, an energetic and upbeat woman who calls herself a prepper rather than a doomer. "But after 9/11 -- and certainly after Hurricane Katrina -- I realized that, holy smoke, the cavalry doesn’t always charge in to rescue you." Mrs. Harrison became interested in preparedness almost 30 years ago, when she and her husband were caretakers of the William Cullen Bryant homestead in Cummington and lived miles from the nearest store. She grew more serious about it two years ago, after they attended a local film night and saw "The End of Suburbia," about what would happen if oil became scarce. She formed a group with some neighbors to promote self-reliance, and to trade tips and equipment. "I’ve got a wicked good grain grinder," Mrs. Harrison said. "Anyone who wants to come over and grind grain can do that." Unlike preparedness advocates who stockpile weaponry, the Harrisons do not own a gun -- "I don’t want to shoot anybody," Mrs. Harrison said. "There are many people in the preparedness world that can get into the mind-set of 'I’ve got to take care of myself,’ " said Alice Cozzolino, a co-owner of the Old Creamery Grocery in Cummington and a member of the local group. "Kathy’s approach is about learning these skills so we can prepare ourselves as a community and get through whatever is thrown at us." After reading other books on the subject, all of them seemingly geared to the Soldier of Fortune crowd or to Mormons, who for religious reasons believe in keeping a year’s supply of food, Mrs. Harrison wrote "Just in Case" for the average homeowner, who she contends is in serious need of preparedness training. Her tone shifts from chipper to mildly scolding when discussing how Americans, in her words, "sold out to easy" -- owning a closetful of clothes but never learning to sew a button; driving everywhere but being unable to change a tire. Touring the Harrison house is a sobering experience for the pampered consumer. As she led this visitor down a rickety set of steps and into the kind of dank basement that is decorated mostly by cobwebs, Mrs. Harrison said, almost jauntily: "This will never be a basement where people play Ping-Pong or watch TV." Opening a storage cabinet, she pointed to supplies like a pressure canner, assorted canned goods and enough cooking oil to open a restaurant. Asked about all that oil, Mrs. Harrison replied: "What if there’s a truckers’ strike?" Fair enough. But these hardly seem like the kind of reserves that could sustain a family for several months. "Let’s go upstairs," she said, marching up two flights of steps and stopping in front of a second-floor closet. Inside was the waiting-out-the-apocalypse mother lode: containers of freeze-dried whole eggs, freeze-dried green beans, cornstarch, butter powder, cheese powder, powdered milk. By her estimate, the supplies in the house could last the family six months or more. Much of the food was in powder form and looked unappetizing, but Mrs. Harrison said it is important to cook with your backup supply regularly, as she does -- using powdered milk on a daily basis, for example -- because "in an emergency you don’t want everything to be strange." Mrs. Harrison said she does not view such practices as a sacrifice, adding that the brand she uses is "the Cadillac of powdered milk." Kneeling down and opening a crawl space off of the "preparedness extra room" (as she calls a bedroom given over to sewing supplies and extra beds), Mrs. Harrison pulled out bucket after bucket of basic staples like wheat and rice. "I just ordered another hundred pounds of sugar and flour," she said, explaining that she continually replaces what she has used. It is part of a system she calls OAR: Organize, Acquire, Rotate. In her own transition to preparedness, Mrs. Harrison did not need to upend her lifestyle. She is an avid gardener who cans fruits and vegetables, and she long ago learned to stretch resources while raising seven children by birth and adoption and an everchanging group of foster children (she wrote an earlier book about foster parenting, "Another Place at the Table"). Mr. Harrison, meanwhile, is the kind of flinty and resourceful New Englander who can make an oven from a pizza box and tin foil. The main inconvenience was the expense; she said the emergency food and medical supplies, both on hand and what has been consumed in the past two years, cost about $3,000. Moreover, the family is geographically blessed: the house is not in a high risk area for earthquakes, fires or floods, and far from any obvious terrorist targets. It sits on two acres of tillable land; an adjacent stream provides potable water. So what are Mrs. Harrison’s preparedness recommendations for urbanites who possess neither the storage space for buckets of powdered milk and dehydrated beets nor the inclination to consume anything that isn’t haute cuisine? "I’d invest in a water filter -- and look for a way out," she said, laughing. "What can I tell you? I’m not a city girl." Turning serious, Mrs. Harrison said that even in a small city apartment you could stockpile a few weeks’ worth of water and nonperishable food like peanut butter, and that buying a crank radio to hear newscasts and a bike or motor scooter to get around was a good idea. Back downstairs, Mrs. Harrison showed off a furnace in the living room that runs on propane and has a cook top; a 500-gallon propane tank sits outside, providing several months’ supply of fuel. (They are scrupulous about keeping it full.) When asked what she would do if the family had to suddenly evacuate the house, Mrs. Harrison walked to the mudroom, where backpacks hung on pegs, one for each family member, each containing a variety of supplies like water, tinder and flashlights. If the packs are combined with another, larger pack kept in the car, they form a kind of family survival superpack. Scanning the pegs, Mrs. Harrison’s brow furrowed. "Karen, where’s your pack?" she said to her daughter. Karen looked sheepish. "Um, up in my room." "You know your pack belongs here," Mrs. Harrison said kindly but firmly. Sitting at the kitchen table later, Mrs. Harrison admitted that it was hard to get her family on board at first, especially her husband, who, until he was 7, grew up in a house without electricity or running water. "I already lived it," Mr. Harrison said. Karen added, "Eating the same food over and over was difficult for me." Mrs. Harrison’s face widened into the look of amused exasperation that parents get just before imparting an important life lesson to their children. "Eating leftovers stretches your food," she said to no one in particular, "but it also makes you realize that not everything is going to be shiny and new." The contents of the survival packs had been emptied on the kitchen table. There were mess kits, scissors, raisins, juice-box-style packs of water, a Leatherman multitool, a poncho, long-burning candles -- items a home might contain, only miniaturized and laden with a kind of doomsday gloom. "The odds of me picking this stuff up are next to nothing," Mrs. Harrison said, adding that she is optimistic about the future. "But if I’m going to practice preparedness I want to do it wholly." Meanwhile, on a cable news channel, a commentator was saying that if the United States ran out of gasoline, the country’s food supply chain would grind to a halt in nine days. PREPARED, FRUGAL AND PRACTICAL FIGURE OUT YOUR VULNERABILITIES "We all need food, water and shelter," said Kathy Harrison, the author of "Just in Case: How to Be Self-Sufficient When the Unexpected Happens." "But the needs of a family in west Texas in July are vastly different than the needs of a family in western Massachusetts in January. You have to think about what you’re preparing for." PREPAREDNESS DOESN’T HAVE TO BE EXPENSIVE To lessen the cost (and sticker shock) of stockpiling food and supplies, Mrs. Harrison recommends buying in small increments. "When you go to the grocery store buy a few extra items," she said. "You’re adding $10 to your grocery bill because you bought canned peaches on sale." Water can be stored in cleaned two-liter soda bottles. DON’T BUY ECONOMY SIZES OF ITEMS THAT NEED REFRIGERATION "What are you going to do with gallons of salad dressing if the electricity goes out?" Mrs. Harrison said. Instead, she advises buying foods that require refrigeration after being opened (like mayonnaise) in small quantities, so they can be consumed within a day or two. BEYOND BREAD ALONE Mrs. Harrison says that including comfort foods like pudding or Jell-O in reserves can brighten a family’s spirits, and she recommends keeping nonelectronic forms of entertainment like books and games on hand. "And think about having extra supplies of soap, toothpaste, shampoo and toilet paper," she added, as well as extra pet food and supplies for those with pets. _______________________________________________ For more information about sustainability in the Tompkins County area, please visit: http://www.sustainabletompkins.org/ RSS, archives, subscription & listserv information for: [email protected] http://lists.mutualaid.org/mailman/listinfo/sustainabletompkins free hosting by http://www.mutualaid.org
