Immortal Plastic

Plastic water bottles: 700 years in a landfill.
They make it sound like a bad thing, but the “problem” could turn out to be some kind of solution. In these modern times, so many products are not really made to last and soon have to be replaced. But there are a lot of things that could benefit greatly from a slow molecular breakdown.
Take paint for instance. Maybe we should grind up these plastic bottles to a powder and add it to paint. After your painted building finally rots away, one could be left with a huge 500-year-old tarpaulin with windows. You could just rebuild your structure and just throw on the old paint like a slipcover for another 200 years!
Roof shingles made from this immortal plastic would give a whole new meaning to “Lifetime Warranty”.
And there are all kinds of wood products that the salvaged plastic bottle could replace.
“Well Sonny, they say there was a factory somewhere that made stuff out of plastic bottles that they used to just throw away.”
“Really, Grandpa?”
“Sure. See that ancient fence row? Legend has it that those fence posts were set by your Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great-Great…”
Sound unlikely?
Well, I remember when water first hit the market in plastic bottles. On a planet that is something like two-thirds water on the surface, it seemed silly at the time to think that people would actually buy something that they could get from the tap for free. But they did.
Personally, I’m hoping for something truly profound, like perpetual lawn chair webbing so I can avoid the yearly struggle to climb out after the seat drops me on the ground.
Just imagine that.

Camping 1968

We twenty-nine Scouts and two Scout leaders went to the woods for four days and three nights in the first week of January around 1968.
Our campsite was a place called Salt Peter Cave; a couple of miles walk cross-country from a back road near Piney Fork, Kentucky. The “cave” was an undercut bluff providing shelter maybe a hundred and fifty feet across the rock face to a depth of fifty to sixty feet from front to back.
This was a dry shelter with woods all around. So dry, in fact, that the ground within was six to fifteen inches of finely powdered dust and ash from the campfires of a hundred years and countless inhabitants. Small animal bones as well as teeth resembling human, might be sifted from any good scoop of dust.
Now, a good Scout could start a campfire in any weather using only one match. That good Scout also knew that extra canteens were for kerosene. The scout leaders frowned on this short cut to a quick fire, so we kept this to ourselves as best we could.
We had scattered out in groups of four or five so we could sleep close to a campfire within the group. The first night we had several campfires under the bluff, which was convenient and warm, but the increased smoke caused one Scout to have an asthma attack. We were then limited to one central fire full time and individual small fires for cooking only.
After that, the nights were near sleepless as we shivered in rolled up balls, without the benefit of a nearby fire. Completely buried in my sleeping bag, my only respite from the cold seemed to be my own breath warming my fingers.
For bedding, we laid our sleeping bags atop leaves we’d gathered earlier, which were piled, into hollows in the dust. No matter how many leaves we gathered, there was always some big pointed rock that wasn’t noticed during the day that would keep you company all night long.
In the very early morning hours many of us would gather near the main fire to warm up, listening to the splattering of the water in the pool and the chase of squirrels in the woods.
Icicles had formed on the overhang high above a shallow, partially frozen pool. Most of us immediately placed eggs and other perishables along the edge of the pool, which served as our outdoor refrigerator. A good idea, we thought. The raccoons thought so, too.
One morning it had snowed and must have warmed up somewhat to cause the icicles to fall into the pool, dispatching anything that the raccoons might have missed.
I was not, at that time, familiar with the role of cooking oil in food preparation, so scrambled eggs ultimately became egg crumbs scraped from the mess kit’s fry pan. They were tasty just the same.
Partially burnt Vienna sausage and cold pork and beans with mustard is an acquired taste. Food like this builds memory cells in the brain, for after forty years, I still vividly remember the taste, but at the time, we felt like we were eating like kings.
One of the Scouts within our group used an improvised foil reflector oven to bake biscuits, which turned out a little doughy but did not go uneaten. Some also baked potatoes or corn on the cob wrapped in foil and laid in the coals of the fire.
We learned to smear dish washing soap on the underneath side of our mess kits to make an easy job of removing the black soot after cooking.
We tended to lean more towards military type provisions rather than the traditional Scout supplies. Many a surplus WWII artifact came out of retirement in those days. Nearly every Scout had some memento of their fathers’ service during the war: a shovel, a duffle bag or a canteen. One Scout even brought a helmet. I had one of my fathers’ Army belts, along with a canteen on an ammo belt, which I got from the Army Surplus store.
My Yucca pack always looked very straight and uniformed. I was complemented on this and felt no need to mention that there was a cardboard box neatly fitted into the pack to hold its shape.
I had borrowed my father’s leather boots, not to be deterred by the fact that they were a little small and smaller still with two pair of socks. They had that military look about them that blended well with my “look”. As always, fashion before function.
But the boots soon got wet and then froze overnight. I placed them by the main fire in the morning only to see the toes curl up as they thawed. The boots became torturously small and contorted with almost no room for feet let alone any socks.
I suffered though the third day before resorting to my only backup, a pair of low top house moccasins. The moccasins had a low tolerance for the wet weather and soon gave up their very soles in protest. I ended up using my bootlaces to tie the fragmenting moccasins to my feet. These lasted long enough to make it to the last day.
By the time we were ready to go home, the dust had thoroughly infiltrated everything we had brought with us. I was obviously filthy from head to toe, but didn’t seem to care since everyone else was equally mortified.
I remember standing in the shower at home watching the streams of mud swirling down the drain. I was certainly happy to get into my warm bed that night.
I lost most of my toenails over the next few weeks, which grew back eventually. I still wonder if it was the cold or if it was the constrictive boots which caused this.
Maybe it was both.

Relativity

We were having dinner with my son Michael and his girlfriend Marinda recently. It’s inevitable that at some point in women’s conversation there will be an exploratory into matters of relativity. This can be difficult for a man to follow and is sometimes better left to the experts.
I returned my attention to the noodles, the meatballs and the Parmesan Cheese. Eating spaghetti and not wearing it was as much challenge as I wanted right then, but I listened in just the same.
“Do you know (So & So)?” my wife asked Marinda.
“Is that the (So & So) who was in the paper with the 50th anniversary?”
“Oh, no. (So & So) is young, she’s (What’s his name’s) daughter from his second wife, you know the one with the pretty hair. Anyway, she married (Some guy) who is the sixth oldest of (The poor parents) who had those thirteen children. (Some guy) drove a school bus in (Elsewhere) County where he ran into (So & So) when he rear ended (The poor parents) car with a pick-up he borrowed from (What‘s his name).”
I thought to myself, “Huh?”
Marinda took it up, “Okay… I went to school with (Some guy’s) sister, (What’s her face), who’s double jointed. She married (Another guy) and they have triplets. (Some guy) and (Another guy) run their daddy’s farm where (Still another guy) works part time. (Still another guy) is brother to (Someone else) who married (What’s his name), her fourth husband. I know who you’re talking about.”
“Well, she’s the new (Doesn’t really matter).” My wife concluded as a meatball danced on my fork.
Some ladies are fluent in kinfolk connections and can make it sound like a well practiced recital. There is probably a college course that men can take to compensate for this but women were obviously born with a masters degree.
I suppose it’s all part of the complex topic of general relativity.

Ice Storm 2009

Monday, January 26, 2009 gave no indication of impending bad weather, but that seems to be the way of it; the only warning we had came from the weather reports on TV. It was enough to cause me to schedule a day off for Tuesday just in case I was to have trouble getting to work. Monday evening I also gassed up the truck and bought an extra 5 gallons of kerosene for my workshop heater. This heater had been used in the house before but very rarely, and never as the primary heat source.
For years, I have kept a journal. The following excerpts are a personal record of the days of the Ice Storm of 2009.

Tuesday, January 27, 2009.
An ice storm came during the night and is still raining and freezing here at 10am. Everything has a good coating and trees are giving way and crashing down all around. I am only now beginning to hear chainsaws around the neighborhood.
The electricity has been off since around 6:30 am. I don’t expect it will be back on today. I have lit the kerosene heater and it is doing a fine job, almost too good. It is in the carport room where the temperature is around 75 degrees. The rest of the house has dropped into the 60’s, which is not too bad for a 30-degree day.

I had awakened to 4:30 am expecting to get an early start on my thirty-four mile drive to Hopkinsville. Upon hearing the sound of limbs crashing down, and knowing that the roads were thickly coated in ice, I decided to call in to confirm that I would be taking the day off as scheduled.
The “carport room” is an enclosed carport, made into a “TV” room. When the power went off we moved the heater to the kitchen where we would spend most of our time anyway.
I walked around the yard during the day surveying the damage. I stayed clear of the trees as limbs were still falling without notice. The noise was like that of a rifle shot, with the bigger the limb, the higher the caliber. This sudden crack was followed by what sounded like applause and the breaking up of long spaghetti, ending with the crash on the ground. The larger limbs made a heavy thumb, which could be felt as well as heard.

McKinney lost his utility pole when a limb came down on his wire.
A limb from the cherry tree behind the shop broke off, bending the gutter on the backside, but I don’t think it hurt the roof. The two maples and the sassafras have all dropped limbs and I think it’s not over yet.
The back yard birds are having a tough time of it, but I crumbled up some cornbread for them and they seem to be eating it without complaint.
It’s after 4 pm now and limbs have continued to fall all day. I called in to arrange to take tomorrow as a vacation day.
6:30 pm and the power came back on for about 10 minutes and then shut down again. The furnace ran for this brief time…the temperature had surprisingly only dropped to 62 degrees.
Went to bed around 9 pm…a very unrestful night.

When people talk about storm damage, they always seem to compare the sight with a war zone. This was very much the case, as I have seen tornado damage that was similar to this ice damage. It just looks like a war has raged.
Trying to sleep Tuesday night was like being under siege. I was very tense, anticipating that a branch from the big maple out front might come crashing through the ceiling at any time. I rose on many occasion, trying to locate the closest impacts, but for the light of my flashlight, the town was pitched in darkness. Only wiggling limbs on the ground gave evidence of a recent nearby fall.

Wednesday, January 28, 2009.
Woke around 1:30 am to the sound of more limbs, probably the box elder.

This small but stocky tree was about forty feet from the bedroom. I had hoped that it would hold up as it had so many times before, but an eight-inch limb finally gave way, as did many smaller ones to nearly strip the tree of any sustaining growth.

I woke again at 4:30 and finally got up at 8 am. We had gotten two inches of snow to cover up the ice.
I cooked sausage and scrambled eggs on the fire at the pit. The gas grill decided to malfunction so my plan “B” was a good backup.

The ice was so thick on the grill that the orifices were apparently clogged resulting a full force flames coming out the bottom of the grill.

We went to Hopkinsville to try to find a kerosene heater for Michael. With some hundred thousand people out of power, everything was bought up.
We went by Brazeway and arranged to be on vacation till, at most, Tuesday of next week.

The direct route down highway 91 was presumed blocked by trees so we drove up the West Kentucky Parkway then took the Pennyrile Parkway over to Hopkinsville.
Hopkinsville had faired better on the damage but were somewhat swamped with people trying to find gasoline, kerosene and groceries. Many businesses were operating by generators with very limited stocks on their shelves.
Wal-Mart was open but had been picked clean of everything of non-electrical heat, or anything that was camping related. Flashlights, batteries, blankets and such were in high demand but short supply.
On the way back we were delayed about 45 minutes on the WK by some kind of problem with two tractor-trailer rigs stopped in the middle of the road.
All utilities were down with water being the only exception. I remarked that, “At least we have water.”
By the time we got home the water pressure had dropped significantly.

Thursday, January 29, 2009.
Out of bed around 6:30. Very low water pressure. Deb filled three buckets of 5 gallons each in case the water stopped altogether.
I made a fire in the pit…and scraped her car off.
Deb went to the courthouse for jury duty…there was no court in session. When she returned, I fried sausage and eggs on the fire.

I had begun to collect icicles from the roof eaves and anything else representing clear ice. I poured them into a washtub and melted them on the fire to gather water for flushing the toilet or any other non-drinking utility water use.

I used the chainsaw a little around the house and cut some limbs off of Michael’s house.

My son Michael, an employee of the Caldwell County Road Department, had been working some 14-hour days. He had not had the time to even access his own damage. I sawed some of the limbs from an elder tree in his back yard that was resting on his house and grill. These were so covered in ice that they could not effectively be moved. This at least gave him access to his grill. He had no heat and his indoor temperature had fallen to 37 degrees.
He had been spending his nights with his girlfriend‘s family. He could have stayed with us but I’m sure that given the choice, it’s natural for a guy to choose girlfriend over parents and Marinda is a very nice girl.

We left for Cadiz to try to find some kerosene as we only had about seven gallons left. We managed to find gasoline at Cadiz but no kerosene.
We went on to Hopkinsville and stood in line for three hours for 8 gallons @ $3.99 a gallon.

Much of Cadiz was still without power with only a few businesses open. We managed to find a couple of gas stations doing business and fell in line behind another car. A lady from the other side of the pumps came up to us and asked that we let her and her husband get to the pump ahead of us as they had entered from the wrong side by mistake. We were in no hurry and obliged. We had heard reports of price gouging and rude behavior of some who were in a tight spot. I felt like we were just along for the ride and felt no need to be difficult.
I noticed that people were not only filling their vehicle’s fuel tanks but were filling a half dozen or so 3 to 5 gallons plastic containers. This, I assumed, was to fuel generators, as gasoline is too dangerous to be used for indoor heaters.
We moved on to Hopkinsville where upon coming into town, we could see that Dodge’s Store was showing signs of activity. The pumps were cordoned off from traffic but a standing line was formed at the front door, with each person carrying several fuel containers.
We parked next door at the Dollar Store and walked across carrying our two 5-gallon cans. We got in line and waited out turn.
A half hour or so passed, and we were ushered inside the store where the line snaked its way down one of the aisles. The procedure was to pay for the kerosene at the counter and then go outside to another line leading up to the pump. Kerosene is notoriously slow to pump so delaying inside meant that you could at least stay inside out of the cold a little longer.
Eventually were made it to the counter where we paid $32 for 8 gallons. One of my cans still had a little in it so I figured that 8 gallons was a good amount. They gave us a small receipt with the number 27 on it and told us that there were 22 people ahead of us at the pump. They told us that if we bring the receipt back afterwards we could get free coffee.
Waiting in line outside was probably the coldest I had been in days, but still not too bad as I had been dressing for it for several days. We had left our coats in the truck so Deb went back and got them while I held our place in line. This helped immensely but I felt bad for some of the people who were shivering in little more than sweat shirts.
Before long, the Dodge’s Store employees came out with a large platter of hot wings, which were very tasty and warming. Just after that, they brought hot coffee. This was one of those kindnesses that sadly gets swept under the rug as time goes by. This is one that I will not forget.
We finally got our turn and filled our cans. We headed home with an additional 5 days supply of heating fuel.
We decided to take the direct route down State Highway 91 back to Princeton. We had talked to several people in the kerosene line who would be making the same journey so we now believed it to be passable.
Trees were ripped apart all along the way, which seemed to get worse at the county line, the halfway point of the 34-mile trip. There were several places where the road was reduced to one lane. Nearing Princeton, we were detoured over to a county road to bypass utility work on the edge of town.

Got home around 6:30 and heated ravioli on the fire.

Friday, January 30, 2009.
Still no electricity, water or anything. Michael came by around 6 am to pick up some hot soup for lunch. A sunny day, should be around 30 degrees.

The quality of some of our freezer food was coming into question. We decided to cook as much as we could before spoiling. This cooked food could be placed on the back porch where it would refrigerate and be reheated later.
Breakfast found me frying the remnants of a smoked ham from Christmas. This made a skillet full, which I tried to peddle at the neighbors. I found that at least one house had a surplus of food and loaded me up with several boxes of crackers. I returned home with more food than I went out with.

5:00 pm-Water pressure is returning. The irony is that I have spent the day catching the gutter drips and managed to get 50+ gallons of water to flush the toilet.
Most of the ice is off of the trees as it warmed up pretty good with the sun out.
Finally got (Dad &) Linda on the cell phone. They are living in the basement and are going to hunt a generator tomorrow.
Michael got power today.

Saturday, January 30, 2009. High temperature 59.
Still no lights. Some reports say it may be another week or more for the west side of town. I hope we are considered South Princeton. We can see streetlights to the west at night.
Was around 20 degrees this morning with heavy fog, which coated what’s left of the trees.
Got a hot shower this morning. Made scrambled eggs with ham bits, green peppers, onions, red peppers and cheese. Tasty and cooked on the fire.
We moved some of the food from the freezer to Michael’s house. I filled bags with ice and put them in (our) freezer in hopes of saving the rest. Cannot eat this food faster than it ruins. We are going to take a loss.

I had long felt like not buying a generator back in the summer was a major mistake. Not standing in line in Hopkinsville or Paducah these past few days to buy one was feeling like an even bigger one.
In an effort to keep our heat bill down, the “hobby room” containing the freezer was shut off from the heat. We had kept the freezer closed in this coldest room of the house. Despite our efforts, we had conceded to the fact that we were going to lose most if not all of the food in the deep freeze.
When we learned that Michael’s power had returned, we removed the upper portions of food and repacked them into his freezer, which had a lot of empty space.
I had heard of people standing in line for bags of ice at the few stores that were open. This seemed absurd to me as ice was lying on the ground everywhere. I shoveled ice from under the maple tree, which had fallen off the day before, and bagged it in some hamburger bags. These were placed in our freezer as a last ditch effort to save the remaining food.

5:30 pm- I cut up a lot of firewood from these downed limbs. Helped clear J. B. McKinney’s front so that the power people can set a new pole. Gave some of my cut firewood to Woody. Helped the guy across the street get a limb off of the telephone cable.
Used the John Deere mower and trailer to move firewood around the yard. This was a good productive day.
The electric bucket truck came down the street today checking pole-to-house connections. I hope this is a sign that the power is forthcoming.

Recooked cheese dogs on the fire for supper. I should sleep good tonight.

We had gotten very good use from my John Deere lawn tractor. The small trailer was very handy in moving firewood around the yard and to the neighbors.
The smallest of the line, this JD would later pull the highway trailer to and from the neighbors to help clear their brush.

At 7:40 the electricity came back on. At this point we don’t know how long it will last, but we are sure glad to get it.

I waited for some time before turning the light out on the kerosene heater. It had burned non-stop since Tuesday morning and was even refueled without turning it off. This is not something that the manufacturers recommend. When I turned down the wick, I found it to be stuck, apparently melted into a fat spot, which refused to retract. Eventually it gave in but I will have to replace it before the next catastrophe.
I sat down in front of my television and decided to watch a movie on DVD. One of the movies had a setting in the ice and snow of Mt. Everest. I’d had enough of that and picked something else.
I began to feel a little uncomfortable, as I knew that some of my neighbors, though surviving with gas heat or generators, were still without power.
I turned off the television and went to bed.

But there are still plenty of people out there who still do not have all of their utilities restored. The process may seem slow but the devastation to the system is enormous and will take a lot of time to rebuild.

Meanwhile, we recover and exchange our stories, with friends and nieghbors, as we will for years to come. Everyone will have a tale to tell about the big storm of 2009 which stopped everything and changed everything we thought we knew about what happens when the lights go out.