By SETH BARNES
LIVING ON PLANET EARTH CAN BE A dicey proposition. Even as our horizons expand with the global economy and the lightning-speed advancement of technology, instability and disaster are just a moment away. The war on terror, tsunamis, hurricanes, drought, famine, pestilence, Day 19 of the Anna Nicole Smith saga: The world can be a big, bad place that renders unexpected consequences. That’s just part of the human condition.
If you’ve been paying attention to the way life works, you know there’s nothing we can do about any of this. We’re not living a fairy tale. You just have to strap yourself in and take whatever comes. All of it can make you feel like Dick Cheney: Growling, grumpy, gruff, and in denial about the basic tenets of reality. But don’t count on an elite security team whisking you away to a vacuum-sealed bomb shelter every time the going gets rough.
In California, the great unknown is the time and location of the next major earthquake. We all know it’s coming, but we don’t know when. And while there’s little we can do to prevent the next Big One, most experts agree on getting together an earthquake kit in preparation for the impending catastrophe and chaos. When I moved here, this seemed easy enough. There was a simple list of necessities I’d need in the apocalyptic afterworld. Some water, canned goods, a flashlight, fresh batteries, a radio so I could get updates about how utterly screwed all 36 million of us were. It seemed simple enough.
But nearly two years later, I have nary an item on the list. I haven’t come close to putting together my earthquake kit, a fact that has caused a little tension between my fiancée and me. Her view is that it’s best to be prepared, you never know what’s going to happen. And I can’t deny that after I miraculously extract myself from the rubble, put a tourniquet around my shattered leg, and shoo looters away from my dwelling, a meal of mineral water, beef jerky and refried beans straight from the can could be a welcomed treat.
On top of all this, we still have the images of the woeful official response to Hurricane Katrina seared in our minds. If you’re stranded on your roof with churning floodwaters all around you, don’t depend on the federal or local government to rescue you. You better have your own plans to get out of dodge. It’s not a charity auction, people.
I think my inability to get together an earthquake kit comes partly from my personal outlook on the world and partly from the fact that I’m an American male in the 21st century. I’m too wrapped up in my own smallish daily challenges and anxieties to be worried about how I’m going to get myself and loved ones out of the L.A. Basin and through the Mohave Desert after the inevitable tremblor reduces the world around us to medieval times. And there’s a measure of denial here as well. I don’t want to admit that the relatively perfect, pristine life that I’m fortunate to live, in fact, sits on both a real and metaphorical fault line. Anything can happen at any time.
As a typical guy, I also have a nonsensical fantasy about valor and heroism that I’m convinced will spring forth from the recesses of my pampered, complacent suburban self. If disaster strikes, I’ll valiantly strap my loved ones on my back and do anything required to bring us to safety. Fist fight for the last case of clean drinking water for miles around? No problem. Securing gas so we can drive away from the shaken hellhole? I’ll find a way. Having access to basic first-aid supplies in the moments after the earthquake. Um, hopefully I’ll be able to get to the medicine cabinet?
After all, look at those people on “Lost” — normal people who, when met with the unfathomable challenge of survival in a primitive setting, turned their efforts into a hit TV program. That could be me!
The fact is, none of this is a joke, ask any of the millions who lived through Northridge. It’s starkly memorable and I’m sure the possibility of the next earthquake doesn’t seem so remote to them. So maybe this weekend, I should act like the responsible man of the house and outfit us with the bare necessities we’d need in a disaster. Or I could buy the first two seasons of “Lost” on DVD. I hear there are some great fight scenes.
Who knows? Maybe I could learn a thing or two that might come in handy down the road.
Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on March 1, 2007. Read the original PDF.