My stepfather was a marine in WWII. My mom is a retired nurse. Overall, I feel pretty fortunate. Though my stepfather is old, he's physically and mentally much younger--apparently it runs in his family.
I bring this up for two reasons. The first is that I don't know if we can keep the house here in Lansdale. Jesus, I hate even thinking about this, but it's getting too expensive, and I'm afraid the bank will foreclose. We didn't get a crazy subprime loan, we have a tradition, fixed-rate mortgage that back in May was only 31% of our income--which is about standard. But now, with gas being more expensive, food more expensive, electricity more expensive--you get the idea. The cost of the house hasn't gone up, but everything else has. And while we've still got our jobs, I don't know how long that will last--they've started laying off some of the lower-skilled and recently hired folks at the company; they had tried just using attrition, but it wasn't working fast enough--who wants to retire now?
So one of these days, the ax is gonna fall. And what'll we do then? Foreclosure, I guess.
Unless someone blows up the bank that holds our mortgage. I don't know if that would even work, but hey, a girl can dream, can't she?
So when that happens, we really have only one alternative--move back in with my parents. God, I never though I'd have to do that again...
But that's not the only reason I mention my parents. The other is that Worcester, where they live and where I grew up, isn't much of a town--I think it's technically a "township", which means it doesn't have much infrastructure. There aren't any local cops, the firehouse is all volunteer, and there isn't a public sewer or water system--everyone's on wells. So things are really isolated, and it's typical that people have several acres to themselves.
Well, a few days ago, they got a call from my stepbrother David, who lives down the road from them. His next door neighbors had been shot and the house ransacked. Now, we're talking about a town where the worst crimes were speeding and the occasional domestic disturbance. Not a place with a lot of murder or robberies. But the Johannsons were murdered. Valuables stolen. Dave doesn't know who did it, and really, who knows? Could be local, could be someone from Philly, or one of the near-by towns. No one knows anymore.
Anyway, so now my parents--who've always been cautious, and who already owned a few guns--are pretty much in a siege mentality. Hell, I am too. And now I wonder if Den and I should be living with them just to keep everyone safe.
I don't know. I don't know what'll happen next. But damn it, I don't want to lose my house.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Week 20: They've Finally Attacked Sunoco.
I don't know who remembers this, but six years ago this week was the terrorist attacks. You know, the ones people used to think of when you said "terrorism". I was in college at the time--a grad student, working for an MA in English because I didn't know what else to do with my time. Economic slump, no call for ex-English majors, not much call for anything. So I lived with my parents, worked at a Barnes & Noble, took classes at West Chester (where I'd just graduated), and tried to be a playwright in the Philly scene. To be honest, it was ideal, because I'm lazy and adverse to working in an office.
And then one day I was driving down to school--to think I used to drive from Worcester to West Chester, 30 miles each way, every day. And I heard about the first plane, and then as I listened to channel 6 on the radio, I heard Charlie Gibson suck in his breath when the second one hit.
Class was canceled, as was the night's Philly Fringe shows. As I drove home, the B&N I worked at was closed up and the parking lot empty. I just remember drinking a lot, because my parents were down the shore on vacation, and my sister was back in school up in Edinboro.
I guess where I'm going with this is that as messed up and terrifying as things seemed back then, it wasn't anything compared to what's happening now.
There was an attack on the Sunoco refinery down in South Philly this morning. No one's sure exactly what the story is--channel 6 says some low-level mafia trying to steal oil and sell it themselves and botching the job, while channel 10 puts in on more Muslim terrorists, like those guys at Fort Dix. What we do know is that there was a gunfight, two explosions, and a large leak of "anhydrous hydrogen fluoride"--thousands of gallons, they're saying. Hundreds of people are dead--refinary workers, folks asleep in bed. Anyone on I-95 seems to have gotten away in time, but maybe we just don't know about it yet.
Because this happened early in the morning, around 5 am, it wasn't as bad as it could've been--no one was at the Linc or a Phillies game, and while folks were on I-95 going to work, rush hour wasn't in full swing.
That's all I know. I don't think Kate's hurt--she's over in West Philly, and the wind doesn't blow west usually.
It's only ten o'clock, but damn it I need a drink.
I'll write more if I know what's going on.
And then one day I was driving down to school--to think I used to drive from Worcester to West Chester, 30 miles each way, every day. And I heard about the first plane, and then as I listened to channel 6 on the radio, I heard Charlie Gibson suck in his breath when the second one hit.
Class was canceled, as was the night's Philly Fringe shows. As I drove home, the B&N I worked at was closed up and the parking lot empty. I just remember drinking a lot, because my parents were down the shore on vacation, and my sister was back in school up in Edinboro.
I guess where I'm going with this is that as messed up and terrifying as things seemed back then, it wasn't anything compared to what's happening now.
There was an attack on the Sunoco refinery down in South Philly this morning. No one's sure exactly what the story is--channel 6 says some low-level mafia trying to steal oil and sell it themselves and botching the job, while channel 10 puts in on more Muslim terrorists, like those guys at Fort Dix. What we do know is that there was a gunfight, two explosions, and a large leak of "anhydrous hydrogen fluoride"--thousands of gallons, they're saying. Hundreds of people are dead--refinary workers, folks asleep in bed. Anyone on I-95 seems to have gotten away in time, but maybe we just don't know about it yet.
Because this happened early in the morning, around 5 am, it wasn't as bad as it could've been--no one was at the Linc or a Phillies game, and while folks were on I-95 going to work, rush hour wasn't in full swing.
That's all I know. I don't think Kate's hurt--she's over in West Philly, and the wind doesn't blow west usually.
It's only ten o'clock, but damn it I need a drink.
I'll write more if I know what's going on.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Week 17: And we live a life of ease/Everyone of us has all we need.
Arthur's house has three floors and a basement. Five bedrooms, a backyard garden.
He'd lived alone for years now, since Hannah left. But with the crisis, he'd opened his house to friends. In some ways, there wasn't much of a choice.
Kate moved into Arthur's house; the apartment was too much, too expensive, and it wasn't safe to be alone there anymore. With her came a coworker who used to live out in West Chester with her parents; the girl hasn't seen her parents for two weeks now. They shared a bedroom on the third floor, along with Kate's two cats.
There were others, mostly friends who worked in the city and couldn't afford to go home anymore, couldn't go back out to the suburbs. Sarah, a paralegal, came with her husband and baby; Arthur'd never wanted a baby in his house--he wasn't good with children--but he couldn't say no. They took over what had been a second-floor "drawing room" in better days. His cousin John came, bringing an Irish wolfhound. "This is worse than the baby," Arthur sighed. But again, there wasn't a "no".
What Arthur couldn't do was convince his mother. She stayed in her rowhouse the Great Northeast; Arthur hoped she'd made friends with the Russian mafia. He called her every night, just to make sure she was still alive.
And there were others, drifting in and out. Friends from the zendo; artists; friends from his day job who needed a place to crash.
He liked his quiet life; he'd had enough excitement in Iraq. Now, there was no such thing.
The riots haven't touched Philly yet. Septa, in a move that shocked everyone, was still running. Full capacity, every trolley car, every subway car, every one of the dwindling buses. They promised they were working on a diesel-electric hybrid, but they'd been promising for at least seven years.
There's still time, he thought. If we can just keep things going, if we can just avoid--
A gunshot; it sounded at least a block away.
The riots may not come, but Philly was still Philly.
The mantel clock chimed; it was one a.m. In four hours, he had to get up. It almost didn't seem worth going in.
He'd lived alone for years now, since Hannah left. But with the crisis, he'd opened his house to friends. In some ways, there wasn't much of a choice.
Kate moved into Arthur's house; the apartment was too much, too expensive, and it wasn't safe to be alone there anymore. With her came a coworker who used to live out in West Chester with her parents; the girl hasn't seen her parents for two weeks now. They shared a bedroom on the third floor, along with Kate's two cats.
There were others, mostly friends who worked in the city and couldn't afford to go home anymore, couldn't go back out to the suburbs. Sarah, a paralegal, came with her husband and baby; Arthur'd never wanted a baby in his house--he wasn't good with children--but he couldn't say no. They took over what had been a second-floor "drawing room" in better days. His cousin John came, bringing an Irish wolfhound. "This is worse than the baby," Arthur sighed. But again, there wasn't a "no".
What Arthur couldn't do was convince his mother. She stayed in her rowhouse the Great Northeast; Arthur hoped she'd made friends with the Russian mafia. He called her every night, just to make sure she was still alive.
And there were others, drifting in and out. Friends from the zendo; artists; friends from his day job who needed a place to crash.
He liked his quiet life; he'd had enough excitement in Iraq. Now, there was no such thing.
The riots haven't touched Philly yet. Septa, in a move that shocked everyone, was still running. Full capacity, every trolley car, every subway car, every one of the dwindling buses. They promised they were working on a diesel-electric hybrid, but they'd been promising for at least seven years.
There's still time, he thought. If we can just keep things going, if we can just avoid--
A gunshot; it sounded at least a block away.
The riots may not come, but Philly was still Philly.
The mantel clock chimed; it was one a.m. In four hours, he had to get up. It almost didn't seem worth going in.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Week 16: Since Rationing Started Baby, You Just Take Your Stuff And Hide
They've started rationing, even electricity, so I'll try and make this as brief as I can.
My job consists of proof-reading patents for the government; I don't work for the government, just a company contracted to it. So I get to see all sorts of patents; it used to be they were mostly pharmaceutical or golf-based. (No, I'm not kidding about golf.) Lately, though, there've been a lot of patents coming through on energy technologies. Solar batteries, hybrid cars, anything that can save on energy use. I don't know how many or if any of this stuff will ever really hit the market, or at least if it'll be seen by anyone other than the wealthy.
I did one smart thing before all this went down--I bought a SW/AM/FM radio that can be powered through a crank. I originally bought it for camping. (Huh. Only last summer we went up to Promised Land Park. Don't think I'll ever see that again. Haven't though of it till now.)
Anyway, with the radio, I'm able to pick up stations from all over. KWY is still running, as is WHYY, but a lot of stuff is intermittent; and WHYY had a habit of conking out even before the oil shocks. However, I can pick up the BBC World Service (though it's very faint). Unfortunately, I don't speak any modern languages except some muddled Welsh, so the Spanish-language stations aren't much help to me, other than (swear to god) Radio Havana. Yeah, I know, communist dictatorship, but at least it's in English and comes in really clearly.
So today Den and I were in the basement, working on our brew*, listening to the radio, when we heard about this. I don't know what to make of it yet. White supremacists, the radio said. Wonderful--just what we need. I knew it would happen some day.
Meanwhile, Den's cousin is being shipped off to Iraq. Army translator--the kid's good with languages. Jesus, I'm scared for him.
You know, nine months ago, it was Christmas. Den and I and our friend Mike went to see Children of Men, and found it the second most depressing film ever**--though I did love it.
Well, I came across this post from the UK--chilling ain't the half of it.
Guess that wasn't so brief after all. Better sign off now and crank up the radio.
*We brew mead. I know that sounds kinda odd, but I'm an amateur medievalist. Or was, I guess. Anyway, mead is easy--just water, honey, and yeast. And some chemicals, but I bought a good supply a few weeks ago, back when the store shelves hadn't run out.
And of course, now we have the bees dying off...
**Oddly enough, the most depressing was Pan's Labyrinth. Again, awesome movie, but man, I needed a drink afterwards. The third most depressing is Requiem for a Dream, which I don't think I can ever watch again.
My job consists of proof-reading patents for the government; I don't work for the government, just a company contracted to it. So I get to see all sorts of patents; it used to be they were mostly pharmaceutical or golf-based. (No, I'm not kidding about golf.) Lately, though, there've been a lot of patents coming through on energy technologies. Solar batteries, hybrid cars, anything that can save on energy use. I don't know how many or if any of this stuff will ever really hit the market, or at least if it'll be seen by anyone other than the wealthy.
I did one smart thing before all this went down--I bought a SW/AM/FM radio that can be powered through a crank. I originally bought it for camping. (Huh. Only last summer we went up to Promised Land Park. Don't think I'll ever see that again. Haven't though of it till now.)
Anyway, with the radio, I'm able to pick up stations from all over. KWY is still running, as is WHYY, but a lot of stuff is intermittent; and WHYY had a habit of conking out even before the oil shocks. However, I can pick up the BBC World Service (though it's very faint). Unfortunately, I don't speak any modern languages except some muddled Welsh, so the Spanish-language stations aren't much help to me, other than (swear to god) Radio Havana. Yeah, I know, communist dictatorship, but at least it's in English and comes in really clearly.
So today Den and I were in the basement, working on our brew*, listening to the radio, when we heard about this. I don't know what to make of it yet. White supremacists, the radio said. Wonderful--just what we need. I knew it would happen some day.
Meanwhile, Den's cousin is being shipped off to Iraq. Army translator--the kid's good with languages. Jesus, I'm scared for him.
You know, nine months ago, it was Christmas. Den and I and our friend Mike went to see Children of Men, and found it the second most depressing film ever**--though I did love it.
Well, I came across this post from the UK--chilling ain't the half of it.
Guess that wasn't so brief after all. Better sign off now and crank up the radio.
*We brew mead. I know that sounds kinda odd, but I'm an amateur medievalist. Or was, I guess. Anyway, mead is easy--just water, honey, and yeast. And some chemicals, but I bought a good supply a few weeks ago, back when the store shelves hadn't run out.
And of course, now we have the bees dying off...
**Oddly enough, the most depressing was Pan's Labyrinth. Again, awesome movie, but man, I needed a drink afterwards. The third most depressing is Requiem for a Dream, which I don't think I can ever watch again.
Friday, August 10, 2007
When Hunger Comes A-Rap-Rat-A-Tat, Rat-A-Tat At The Window...
I know I haven't been keeping up with posting. Sometimes I feel like there's nothing to say, and sometimes I feel too shell-shocked to say anything.
Three days ago, I rode my bike out to a local poultry farm over in Hatfield, hoping to get some eggs. They were sold out. "Sold out? How can you be sold out?"
"Look, chickens aren't magical, you know, it's not like you can just wish up some eggs from 'em."
And so I tried riding down to Merrymead, the dairy. It isn't far from town--in fact, it's halfway between my place and my parents down in Worcester. There was a line when I got there--people are panic-buying, hoarding whatever food they can. I admit, I'm trying to do that too, but you can't really hoard dairy or eggs--they go bad quickly.
"Half-gallon of 2%, please."
"Seven dollars."
I didn't know what to say.
"Seven dollars?"
"Look, you wanna go somewhere else? They'll probably charge you ten."
"For a half-gallon?"
"You think it's cheap to run a farm?"
I know how expensive it can be, though not in the sense they mean.
A few tomatoes and squash had started coming in two days ago--small, of course, not ripe yet.
Yesterday morning, they were gone. Picked off, presumably eaten.
This is my food. I planted it, I'm going to harvest it.
So.
So I got a shotgun. I just want to scare the thieves, I don't want to shoot them. I can't really blame anyone who's hungry for stealing, but they're taking food out of our mouthes.
So tonight, I'm sleeping on a cot in the mudroom. I've hooked up the motion sensors, and if they go off, I'll be right there to scare them away.
I hope.
You know, I'm not anti-gun, but I've never wanted to own one. At least not until now.
God, I just wish this would be over.
In other news, I haven't heard from Kate for a couple of days. I don't like it--I don't know what's going on with her right now, and I'm worried. I offered her the spare bedroom, but she still won't take it.
I just don't know what to do.
Three days ago, I rode my bike out to a local poultry farm over in Hatfield, hoping to get some eggs. They were sold out. "Sold out? How can you be sold out?"
"Look, chickens aren't magical, you know, it's not like you can just wish up some eggs from 'em."
And so I tried riding down to Merrymead, the dairy. It isn't far from town--in fact, it's halfway between my place and my parents down in Worcester. There was a line when I got there--people are panic-buying, hoarding whatever food they can. I admit, I'm trying to do that too, but you can't really hoard dairy or eggs--they go bad quickly.
"Half-gallon of 2%, please."
"Seven dollars."
I didn't know what to say.
"Seven dollars?"
"Look, you wanna go somewhere else? They'll probably charge you ten."
"For a half-gallon?"
"You think it's cheap to run a farm?"
I know how expensive it can be, though not in the sense they mean.
A few tomatoes and squash had started coming in two days ago--small, of course, not ripe yet.
Yesterday morning, they were gone. Picked off, presumably eaten.
This is my food. I planted it, I'm going to harvest it.
So.
So I got a shotgun. I just want to scare the thieves, I don't want to shoot them. I can't really blame anyone who's hungry for stealing, but they're taking food out of our mouthes.
So tonight, I'm sleeping on a cot in the mudroom. I've hooked up the motion sensors, and if they go off, I'll be right there to scare them away.
I hope.
You know, I'm not anti-gun, but I've never wanted to own one. At least not until now.
God, I just wish this would be over.
In other news, I haven't heard from Kate for a couple of days. I don't like it--I don't know what's going on with her right now, and I'm worried. I offered her the spare bedroom, but she still won't take it.
I just don't know what to do.
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Week 10: Engines stop running and the wheat is growing thin
First, just want to mention that the company has finally decided that we can just email them our work. Eventually, I hope they'll just set up an ftp server that we can upload to, instead of having to send multiple emails with different documents.
I've been looking into CSAs--there are a few in the area, but they're several miles away, and so we have to ride our bikes. Well, now that we don't have to go to work, we have the time to ride several miles a day, but bringing back the eggs or milk is a pain. Den tried jerry-rigging baskets to our bikes; they're not as stable as we'd like, but we make due.
I got a call from Kate; things aren't going so well in Philly. Go figure. Her bike was stolen by a group of kids; she'd be worse off, but a friend of hers scared them away by shooting at them. Didn't kill anyone, thankfully. I told her that if she ever needs a place to stay, if the city gets to be too much for her, we have an extra bedroom and would be happy to have her. I hope she knows we're serious.
I haven't been this dependent on my bike since I was fifteen and living up in Boyertown. Out there, there aren't any Septa lines; there's really no way to get around without a car. I can't imagine what they're doing. I posted a photo from the farmers' market up there at my flickr account:
Every Friday they've had car auctions--folks would pick up a car, maybe work on it, give it to their kid when they turn 16, whatever. The funny thing is that a couple of years ago they stopped having the livestock auctions on Saturday nights; I don't know if it was an economic thing or a health hazard, or what. But they continued with the car auctions, since it was so popular.
I have the feeling they're back to auctioning pigs and chickens instead of Ford Escorts.
A few months ago--November--my husband and I were on our honeymoon. We went to the U.K.--England and Wales specifically. Two nights in London, Halloween spent at Glastonbury, and the rest of the time in Wales. Well, the funny thing is that we stopped at the University of Wales in Lampeter, because they have an online masters program in Celtic studies, which is my hobby.
Anyway, skip ahead to the end of April, and I read this:
When Den read this, he laughed. "It's like they're finding ways to get you to move there."
I wish.
But not only that--I wish that we'd do this here. In Lansdale, in Philadelphia, wherever. Pennsylvania has a lot of coal and several nuclear power plants, so while we're not hurting for electricity, the stress is obvious, and sometimes electricity doesn't replace oil.
We need to get off it--completely off it--as soon as possible, or we're dead. And we're at the point where there's no choice.
I've been looking into CSAs--there are a few in the area, but they're several miles away, and so we have to ride our bikes. Well, now that we don't have to go to work, we have the time to ride several miles a day, but bringing back the eggs or milk is a pain. Den tried jerry-rigging baskets to our bikes; they're not as stable as we'd like, but we make due.
I got a call from Kate; things aren't going so well in Philly. Go figure. Her bike was stolen by a group of kids; she'd be worse off, but a friend of hers scared them away by shooting at them. Didn't kill anyone, thankfully. I told her that if she ever needs a place to stay, if the city gets to be too much for her, we have an extra bedroom and would be happy to have her. I hope she knows we're serious.
I haven't been this dependent on my bike since I was fifteen and living up in Boyertown. Out there, there aren't any Septa lines; there's really no way to get around without a car. I can't imagine what they're doing. I posted a photo from the farmers' market up there at my flickr account:
Every Friday they've had car auctions--folks would pick up a car, maybe work on it, give it to their kid when they turn 16, whatever. The funny thing is that a couple of years ago they stopped having the livestock auctions on Saturday nights; I don't know if it was an economic thing or a health hazard, or what. But they continued with the car auctions, since it was so popular.
I have the feeling they're back to auctioning pigs and chickens instead of Ford Escorts.
A few months ago--November--my husband and I were on our honeymoon. We went to the U.K.--England and Wales specifically. Two nights in London, Halloween spent at Glastonbury, and the rest of the time in Wales. Well, the funny thing is that we stopped at the University of Wales in Lampeter, because they have an online masters program in Celtic studies, which is my hobby.
Anyway, skip ahead to the end of April, and I read this:
The age of cheap oil is drawing to a close, climate change already threatens, and politicians dither. But the people of Lampeter, a small community in the middle of rural Wales, gathered together earlier this week to mobilise for a new war effort. They decided to plan their "energy descent".
When Den read this, he laughed. "It's like they're finding ways to get you to move there."
I wish.
But not only that--I wish that we'd do this here. In Lansdale, in Philadelphia, wherever. Pennsylvania has a lot of coal and several nuclear power plants, so while we're not hurting for electricity, the stress is obvious, and sometimes electricity doesn't replace oil.
We need to get off it--completely off it--as soon as possible, or we're dead. And we're at the point where there's no choice.
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Week 10: Heroes and Villains
Kate was riding to the co-op on her bike. She'd been warned that it wasn't safe, but really, what's the point of having a bike if you can't use it?
A group of young men stepped out in front of her. She tried to go around, but they grabbed her, caught her, took the bike and her wallet. They left her self alone, though, when a neighbor came out side and fired a gun in the air. For this small miracle, she was grateful.
The neighbor--Arthur--was an artist; she knew him from the local Buddhist zendo. He didn't seem the type to own a gun.
"What, and Buddhists don't practice martial arts, either?" he laughed, picking her up off the ground.
"I--yeah. Well, thank god."
He offered her an escort to the co-op. He went back into the three-story house; old houses, Victorian, full of gables and back staircases, and backyard gardens. She followed. He grabbed a handgun, concealed it, and put a jacket on.
"Isn't that illegal?"
"So's mugging."
"I thought you were an artist."
"I am. I'm also not stupid."
"Thank you."
"I didn't mean you're stupid. Look, I'm an artist, but I was also a Marine."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"When?"
"Desert Storm ."
"Wow. I had no idea."
"You ready to go?"
Kate paused. "Do you think it's safe?"
"Probably not. But we've gotta eat, right?"
She nodded, and followed him outside.
I'd just like to thank WWO for awarding this post. :)
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