Day 427 -
As a kid, I remember having an interest in music even before I learned to play it on my own. My parents even noticed my interest when they hear me singing along to Hotel California while we were out to dinner one night. It didn't take long before I was playing piano, clarinet, and even the guitar. And even after I stopped taking lessons and playing any instruments for fun, music was very important to me. Music in the car, music on my home computer, music at work, and music in my head. Everywhere I went, music came with me.
When The End came, music was one of the last things on my mind. But lately its been one of the first. Its been more than a year since we moved into this small cabin in the Cascade mountains, and with no electricity, the only source of music has been our cars CD player. And even then, its an extravagence we cannot afford. Gasoline is very hard to come by anymore, so our travelling is restricted. But sometimes, in the deepest hours of the night, I sneak out and listen to a few of my favorite songs. They sound like choirs of angels.
Even an old MP3 player is an infrequent blessing. Before The End, I'd had two. One had a built-in battery, unreplacable and completely unchargable without a computer and USB port. The second, an inexpensive 'reward' I'd received from work years ago, runs on a single AA battery. It has very few songs on it, and we rarely find functional batteries, but when we do we are blessed with a few hours of musical heaven. Sadly, such a blessing is not without its faults.
As batteries become harder and harder to scrounge, music becomes exponentially harder to justify. I fear that this time next year, the music I so dearly loved growing up will exist only in my head. The soulful guitar solos of David Gilmour, the mourning voice of James Maynard Keenan, the heart-breaking lyrics of Amy Lee, the symbolic brilliance of Roger Waters, all consigned to a small corner of my mind. And while some small portion of the remaining people left on earth may find solitude maddening, I fear a lack of music is what will drive me insane.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
I remember when the world ended
It came without warning, and then everything else was gone.
-------------------------------------------------------------
In cities around the country, if you'd looked hard enough, you'd have stumbled across evidence of a by-gone age. An age where the fear of nuclear destruction had forced governments to create fallout shelters for the citizens to take refuge in when Russia or Cuba decided to flex their might. But by the end of the 20th century, these shelters had all but disappeared. One such fallout shelter was in the University District of Seattle. Strangely, there was still a sign on the east wall of the building housing it, now a hotel, alerting passing citizens and college students of the shelters presence.
But while fallout shelters were a great idea at the time, they usually forgot one very important piece of information that greatly inhibited their functionality: in times of crisis, where every moment counts, your average human being does not react favorably. Many will not understand the gravity of the situation, and choose not to follow their instincts. Others panic and cause trouble for themselves and those around them. Still others will simply make the wrong choice, and then endanger others by trying to take charge of the situation. The few that do choose wisely tend to do so quietly and calmly, quickly guiding those around them to safety without trying to save everyone. Some base instict tells them who they can save and who they can't, and they don't waste their time trying to do otherwise. For myself, I chose poorly.
So on a dark December day, the kind you could taste snow in the air, when the world became infinitely brighter, and the ground shuddered and the air exploded with the ferocity few live to tell about, I found myself transfixed by the sight of a mushroom cloud rising over downtown Seattle. My wife, on the other hand, leapt into action and saved me from my own curiosity and horror. She quickly gathered our emergency kit (which I'd always felt was an unnecessary expenditure), food and water, blankets and some clothes, and hustled me out the apartment door and down to our car.
By the time we were on the freeway, heading away from the city, the reality of what had just happened had finally caught up with me. I turned on the radio in the hopes of finding out more, but got only static. Since most of the local radio stations were based downtown, I could only assume they had been destroyed. We scanned through the radio frequencies over and over, hearing nothing. Finally we clicked off the radio and drove in relative silence, and let the events of the past half-hour sink in.
With each passing minute, the freeway got more and more crowded. Panicked drivers were causing increasing problems as they tried to get around or push past anyone in their way. I spent as much time watching my rear-view mirror for speeding cars trying to get away from the city as I spent watching ahead of me for the wrecks previous speeders had inevitably caused. I also thought about where we were going, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. But again my wife saved me by making the decision for us. When we finally reached Highway 2 in Everett some 2 hours later, she instructed me to take it. We needed to get away from any large population center, she reasoned. We would head to a cabin on Stevens Pass, owned by some relatives. Going farther would depend on the fuel in the car, and whether or not there was more available along the way.
That was two years ago today, and I still remember it like it was yesterday. To me, it was the day the world ended.
-------------------------------------------------------------
In cities around the country, if you'd looked hard enough, you'd have stumbled across evidence of a by-gone age. An age where the fear of nuclear destruction had forced governments to create fallout shelters for the citizens to take refuge in when Russia or Cuba decided to flex their might. But by the end of the 20th century, these shelters had all but disappeared. One such fallout shelter was in the University District of Seattle. Strangely, there was still a sign on the east wall of the building housing it, now a hotel, alerting passing citizens and college students of the shelters presence.
But while fallout shelters were a great idea at the time, they usually forgot one very important piece of information that greatly inhibited their functionality: in times of crisis, where every moment counts, your average human being does not react favorably. Many will not understand the gravity of the situation, and choose not to follow their instincts. Others panic and cause trouble for themselves and those around them. Still others will simply make the wrong choice, and then endanger others by trying to take charge of the situation. The few that do choose wisely tend to do so quietly and calmly, quickly guiding those around them to safety without trying to save everyone. Some base instict tells them who they can save and who they can't, and they don't waste their time trying to do otherwise. For myself, I chose poorly.
So on a dark December day, the kind you could taste snow in the air, when the world became infinitely brighter, and the ground shuddered and the air exploded with the ferocity few live to tell about, I found myself transfixed by the sight of a mushroom cloud rising over downtown Seattle. My wife, on the other hand, leapt into action and saved me from my own curiosity and horror. She quickly gathered our emergency kit (which I'd always felt was an unnecessary expenditure), food and water, blankets and some clothes, and hustled me out the apartment door and down to our car.
By the time we were on the freeway, heading away from the city, the reality of what had just happened had finally caught up with me. I turned on the radio in the hopes of finding out more, but got only static. Since most of the local radio stations were based downtown, I could only assume they had been destroyed. We scanned through the radio frequencies over and over, hearing nothing. Finally we clicked off the radio and drove in relative silence, and let the events of the past half-hour sink in.
With each passing minute, the freeway got more and more crowded. Panicked drivers were causing increasing problems as they tried to get around or push past anyone in their way. I spent as much time watching my rear-view mirror for speeding cars trying to get away from the city as I spent watching ahead of me for the wrecks previous speeders had inevitably caused. I also thought about where we were going, trying to decide what the best course of action would be. But again my wife saved me by making the decision for us. When we finally reached Highway 2 in Everett some 2 hours later, she instructed me to take it. We needed to get away from any large population center, she reasoned. We would head to a cabin on Stevens Pass, owned by some relatives. Going farther would depend on the fuel in the car, and whether or not there was more available along the way.
That was two years ago today, and I still remember it like it was yesterday. To me, it was the day the world ended.
I remember...
I remember the world before it ended.
-------------------------------------------------------------
In the years before The End, things weren't so bad. The War on Terror had raged on for 6 years with no sign of stopping. Global Warming, genetically engineered foods, stem cell research, and the ever-present abortion debates continued to draw a line through the country. An upcoming presidential election was helping divide things even more. The Christian Right and the Liberal Left were at eachothers' throats on every issue imaginable, and many unimaginable. At home, nobody wanted to pay taxes and everyone wanted the government to fix the area around us. The pursuit to live "green" was at odds with the SUV-driving 'live in the country, work in the city' lifestyle prevelant throughout the United States.
But despite all this, most people went to work every day and came home every evening. They ate on a regular basis, they had access to all the amenities one could ask for. They surrounded themselves with gadgets and gizmos that told them where to go, what to do, and when to do it. Cars and airplanes had brought the world to our doorstep, and many of us took advantage of the luxury. Satellite television and the Internet were helping entertain the world no matter who they were or where they were living. Despite the many problems facing the world, at the time things looked pretty good.
This is how I remember the world before it ended.
-------------------------------------------------------------
In the years before The End, things weren't so bad. The War on Terror had raged on for 6 years with no sign of stopping. Global Warming, genetically engineered foods, stem cell research, and the ever-present abortion debates continued to draw a line through the country. An upcoming presidential election was helping divide things even more. The Christian Right and the Liberal Left were at eachothers' throats on every issue imaginable, and many unimaginable. At home, nobody wanted to pay taxes and everyone wanted the government to fix the area around us. The pursuit to live "green" was at odds with the SUV-driving 'live in the country, work in the city' lifestyle prevelant throughout the United States.
But despite all this, most people went to work every day and came home every evening. They ate on a regular basis, they had access to all the amenities one could ask for. They surrounded themselves with gadgets and gizmos that told them where to go, what to do, and when to do it. Cars and airplanes had brought the world to our doorstep, and many of us took advantage of the luxury. Satellite television and the Internet were helping entertain the world no matter who they were or where they were living. Despite the many problems facing the world, at the time things looked pretty good.
This is how I remember the world before it ended.
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