Harvey pursed his lips a little, scratched behind his neck a bit, and then answered, “Well, according to agricultural historians, in the 19th century one farmer fed six other people. Heck, most of them were his family. With engine powered equipment and technology that number rose steadily through the 1900’s. I recall about the time I started farming with Pop, the number might have been calculated to be about 60. And with further advances the last thirty years, maybe I heard once the number approached 90. There are two farmers in our operation, counting Larry, so theoretically our operation could feed 180 people.”
“Now,” added Larry, “one might have to discount the fact that we won’t have the technology, you know fertilizer, pesticides, and animal health products. But we have the acres necessary to grow a lot of food. We just need the labor. Between Butch’s farm and ours right now, there are twenty full grown men. Applying the 19th century standard, we should be able to feed 120. And absolutely the women and the kids around here work as well as many men, so you have to factor that in, too. Plus, every family that shows up provides at least one if not more workers. It will take some managing, but it’s doable. It also takes some faith.”
“Hey, that’s usually my answer,” Reverend Schneider answered. “But you certainly are on target. Keep thinking that way.”
“You know,” Joe said, “you said earlier you were very busy the last five weeks. What else you been doing?”
“Funerals,” he responded, “you see, not all the news I have for you is positive. In fact, there’s been a lot of trouble.” Then turning to my dad he added, “Remember you and me talking about nursing homes?”
“Yeah, I just thought of Springside Manor, that large one just to the west of town. How did it go over there?”
“Could have been worse. When I realized things were okay at the food bank, it dawned on me they might need help, so I headed over there. Management saw this coming and advised the families of the guests there to take them home. Adequate care could not be provided. As a result, the numbers were down as families took their parents or grandparents home to care for them as best they could. But many remained. Some had no family, or their families just lived too far away and lacked the means to get there. And then some just were in too poor a medical condition to leave. And, I guess, maybe some families just didn’t care.”
“When the electricity ended, the emergency generators they had only had enough fuel for a couple days. Quite a bit was used up the previous weeks when electricity was being rationed. It wasn’t a pretty sight; middle of August, no air conditioning or lights for the inner rooms; preparing food on charcoal grills and propane stoves. Of course it was too much stress for several of the patients. There were heroes though.”
“Heroes?” Jeremiah asked.
“The workers themselves. Several came to work even though they knew they wouldn’t get paid. Some used their precious gasoline, but many just stayed on the job. They became live-in caregivers. Just stayed day after day. One by one, however, they had to return to their families, but that created a chance for more heroics. A few took a resident with them, basically agreeing to care for that person as long as he or she lived. It was amazing. Of course, the local neighbors pitched in too. Bringing, water and food and helping with the care. Some of my family members accompanied me and put in a few days, too. The most able residents ended up in private homes somewhere, another credit to our community. But about a dozen did not pull through. Last Saturday, I buried the last one that had remained. The place is empty now. It’s usable. Perhaps it could house migrants this winter.”
“I did a few funerals at the church, too. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just want to let you know that Steward, the contractor that usually digs the graves, is housing his backhoe there. He says it might have enough fuel in it to dig maybe 50 to 75 graves, unless some other project in the neighborhood requires his hoe and he’d have to donate fuel to that. Bottom line, if you need a grave dug, there’s a backhoe there. You wouldn’t have to run yours up, Harvey, or dig a grave by hand. There are other troubles I could tell you about, if you’re interested?”
“Local or worldwide?” Jake asked.
“Local and what happened in some of the cities. Haven’t run into any preachers with news from China or Europe.”
“No I guess you wouldn’t have,” Josh agreed. “What local trouble? Anything we could help with?”
“Not really; the damage is done now. You know that big dairy west of the church, Gruber’s. Where they have about 200 cows?”
“Yeah,” Larry answered.
“Well, their operation was too, what’s the word? …. intensive. Fortunately, at this farm, your fields were already laid out with pastures and fencing. I look around and see pretty healthy and content cattle roaming around. At Gruber’s the cows were housed in big buildings and cement feedlots. Fans running all the time and silo unloaders needed to feed them. There was only a small lot for them to roam. Well when electricity became scarce, Gruber’s just kept on going. They made no adjustments in the way they were doing things, kept generating their own electricity until their fuel supply was completely depleted. Just kept feeding and milking cows just to pour the milk away. No one came to haul it away, right?”
“No one,” responded Harvey.
“They couldn’t milk or feed 200 cows by hand. No water, manure accumulated, buildings became deathly hot, cows got sick and died. They had no means to bury them. Made a terrible stink. They finally realized they had to release the cows so they could drink at the closest creek and eat in the surrounding fields. Fortunately the neighbors really pitched in by allowing it, though how could they say no. They helped to tend the herd, kept them in certain fields until some fencing could be erected. Others started taking one or two of the healthier ones home to milk and care for. Steward moved in with his bulldozer and buried the dead cows. Seems like everything’s settled now, but I’m sure more than 100 died. What a mess it was.”
“A mess that could have been mitigated by a little foresight and planning,” Jake said.
“Now Jake,” Dad admonished, “not so judgmental. Did you ever walk in their shoes?” It was one of Dad’s favorite philosophies: “Don’t judge a man until you walked a mile in his shoes”. Or is it a day in his shoes? No matter, good philosophy.
“Yeah, you’re right,’ Jake concurred. “I’m thinking a lot of other people had to make tough decisions, too, especially in the cities, perhaps. What did you hear about them, Reverend?”
“Well, a lot, but I’m not sure what’s true. Of course there was some looting. People trying to find water and food. Releasing the prisoners didn’t help.”
“Releasing the prisoners?” Barry asked. “Just yesterday, I had it on my mind how the prisons were managing. What happened?”
“Again, I heard a lot of things, but just last week I ran into a guard from the county prison. He was helping at the nursing home and he verified the story. They couldn’t keep a prison running with no fuel or water. Something had to be done. Here is one instance that shows that the federal government is still functional because they stepped in. The military came and hauled away all convicted murderers. No one knows where they took them, but they’re gone. Everyone else was released. Anyone convicted of theft, bad check writers, marijuana growers, prostitutes, drug users, people convicted of drunk driving or driving without a license or insurance; they are out on the street now.”
“Wow!” Barry exclaimed, “most of those people didn’t belong in jail anyway. I don’t know if that would have really contributed to looting and rioting.”
“Well, I’m thinking it probably did to at least a small extent,” Reverend Schneider responded. “But there’s another theory floating around. This guard said all the released prisoners received a pretty stern speech. They would be completely exonerated and in return for that would be expected to become productive members of society. They would have to learn to live with the other members of society as society needed as many productive members as could be found. It would not be easy, they’d have to learn to work, share, and give as well as take. It was necessary for them to change in order to be accepted. And finally, they would not be protected any longer. If they committed any crime, there would be no criminal justice system to save their butts, no court appointed lawyer to moderate their punishment, no getting out on bail. They would be subject to the wrath, sense of justice, and perhaps the vengeance of the communities they choose to settle in.”
“Do you think that’s working?” Barry inquired.
“Can’t say for sure; but I hear less and less about looting and criminal activities. One interesting story I did hear was about gangs in the city. Seems like when the police stopped doing their job, the gangs took over. They took control of territories and protected everyone living there. Stabilized the situation. Enforced their own law, administered justice, made everyone tow the line. Get along or get out was the dictate. Wouldn’t have been a welcome environment for criminal behavior; perhaps that’s what kept the released prisoners in line.”
“That is darn interesting,” Barry commented. “Perhaps things are working out.”
“You know,” said the reverend, “I’ve talked a lot. I really need to hear what you are all doing around here, so as I can share it with others that have the same predicaments. And, gee, I’ve been holding you up from your work.”
“Work!” Joe exclaimed, “I plum forgot. I wanted to help the girls can that pork we didn’t eat for dinner. And what kind of hosts are we? We offer your horse water and offer you nothing. Come on into the house. Maybe there’s some left for you. And the girls will be glad to see you as well.”
“I’d like that, and I’d like to hear how everyone else is feeling," Reverend Schneider answered.
To be continued….. How is everyone else feeling?.... Mort
No comments:
Post a Comment