Surviving through our stories

What would you take?
a fairytale, by Niki Raapana

I grew up making lists. Did you? For my family it was a prerequisite for any plan we made. We learned to do it at a very young age. I've wasted thousands of pages for just lists alone. Lately, I can't open a binder without finding one of my daughter's lists. List making is one the traits I've obviously passed down to her. What else can I pass down, I wonder.

My grandson loves it when I make up stories for him. Next time I see him, maybe I'll tell him about making lists. We can play a little game starting with the words: If I had to walk out the door tomorrow and survive without any services provided by civilization, what would I take?

Then, if he likes the game, I'll tell him what grandma would hope to have packed and ready to pick up and go. I'd tell him what I'd want waiting for me in a pre-planned and already prepared secret spot. I'd make it exciting and tell him I'd build underground, into a hillside or deep inside a clean cave. He already knows that up here we'd have to run the bears out of the cave first.

I'd wish I could recite my fairytale list to him as if it were a poem. Cadence is easier to memorize and music helps the stories find a home in our hearts.

To my literal readers who choose to take this fairytale seriously, please note the big "if" in the game Q. I have by no means collected all of the things on my list. I'm too poor. But who knows, maybe you can afford it. Plus, this is an Alaskan winter list and people in warmer climates will not need some of these items but will need other things not on my list.

Lists are personal. Everyone has a different set of priorities. I'd like to be prepared for mountain living, as that may be all that's safe and available in many places. High mountain streams provide fresh water, glaciers provide summer ice, volcanoes and high wind areas discourage helicopter flyovers and landings. In the worst fairytale possible, we may not only want to be off the grid, but also choose to remain under the radar.

My "What I'd Want To Take With Me" Fairytale List:

1. Firearms, heavy ammo, birdshot and long range bullets, my preferences being a hefty sidearm, a 12 gauge shotgun, and a 270 rifle with a detachable scope. 50,000 rounds. Maps. Snowshoes, dogsled, skis, traps. Dogs. Bicycle, cart, shovels. Metal storage bins with tight lids. Crossbow, arrows. Slingshot. Frisbee. Softballs. Bat. Mits.

2. Shelter, 10 to 16' wide, able to hold an inside fire, waterproof matches, all stored inside 1 gal zip up plastic bags with 2 dozen of Kathy's egg carton/wax firestarters. Sharp knife, toilet paper, garbage bags, can opener, flashlights, headlamps, spotlight, tea lights, batteries, portable generator, fuel, kerosene lamps, stove and lights. Oil lamps, lamp oil. Folding table and chairs. Folding sink table (bakers rack). Coolers. Fishing pole. Tackle box. Dipnet. Bug dope. Buckets.

3. Tarps, various sizes and grades, rugs, blankets, sleeping bags, bed pad, hammock, pillow, sheets and pillow cases, which can double as insulation and bags when traveling. Wood/coal stove. Wood bag. Pot holders.

4. Down coats, windbreaker, rain gear, snowpants, wool pants, wool socks, bootliners, rain boots, snow boots, leather boots, muk luks, slippers, longjohns, under wear, coveralls, carharts, jeans, t shirts, turtlenecks, wool and fleece sweaters, all kinds of well fitting hats and gloves, gloveliners.

5. Water jugs, water pitchers, towels and wash rags, body soap, dental floss, toothbrushes. toothpaste, shampoo, body soaps (can double as dish soap) conditioner, nail clippers, nail file, Q-Tips, body oils and lotions, perfume (not in summer).

6. Axe, sledgehammer, machete, knives, saws, nails, screws, hooks, staples and gun, scissors, hammers, screw drivers, wire cutters, rolls of copper wire, ropes of light twine to 500 lb line.

7. Metal water pots, metal and cast iron frying pans, non-electrical coffee and tea pot, metal and wood kitchen utensils, dishes, 1 to 5 gal clean and slop buckets, metal dish pans, cases of soap, cases of scrubbers, rubber gloves, rags.

8. Bleach, iodine, rubbing and drinking alcohol, Balm of Gilad, Teatree Oil, first aid kit, coffee, tea, Tang and Lemonade Mixes, hot chocolate, rice, dried black beans, red beans, white beans, pinto beans, lima beans, split peas, white, wheat, rye flour, brown sugar, yeast, molasses, brewers yeast, salt, pepper, spices, herbs, dried peppers, oatmeal, nuts, grains, syrups, jams, peanut butter, canned fish, veggies, meats, and poultry. Olive oil, vegetable oil, Mongolian fire oil, sesame oil, almond oil, peanut oil and Crisco. Big metal mixing bowls, ceramic jars, baking utensils, cheesecloth, small bread pans, muffin tins, cookie cutters, cook books, organic garden seeds, worms, bees, garden tools, drying racks, metal cooking racks, metal tongs, Amish Granny's Oven stackrobber, smoker, folding metal fireside tables and shelves, and 2 rabbits.

9. Sewing kit, heavy needles and thread, fabric scissors, bolts of wool, cotton, silk and sheer, swatches and notions, tapered and long burning candles, candle holders, beeswax, canning jars and lids, spinning wheel.

10. Personal items, hairbrush, hair ties, combs, family photos, pens, paper, blank books, favorite books, crafts, small office items, projects, tobacco, rolling papers, pipes, screens, Valium (just kidding).

Many people have written to me over the past decade asking the same thing: What can we do? I spent the past five years camping in Alaska, devoting my quiet time to considering the best answer to that question. In the end, I never did answer it; I couldn't come up with one thing to recommend everyone do, or try to do. I always felt I had failed the readers in that aspect of my ACL work. Indeed, many people accused me of only identifying the problem. They were disappointed that I did not also have a solution to the problem I identified. My weak response to their complaints was always: I think all of us have to contribute original ideas to the solution.

I am not alone in my observations of current events or what I think could possibly happen. But I'm not one who hopes for it, on any level of my being. I'm one of those wackos who hoped and prayed it would never come to my having to escape to the real wilderness. I still never want it to become my reality. I know I would probably die if I had to do it. The "accidental" lesson I have learned here at Camp Redington, throughout all these final years of my written opposition to Amitai Etzioni's communitarian plan, is this: surviving without the benefits of modern civilization is almost too hard to contemplate.

My every waking moment I am grateful for my grid electricity, a phone line so I can talk to my daughter, for the internet, connected to the phone line, so I can talk to my son in real time, a U.S. Marine stationed in Hawaii and heading for Afghanistan. Every day I thank the Good Creator for our being alive. Then, for having a refrigerator for cold milk, a chainsaw and the gas and oil to keep it running, my pile of wood, and the clean fresh water from our community well. I wouldn't want to live without my electric espresso machine for my morning latte.

I never, and I mean never want to see us lose what our fathers, mothers, grandfathers and grandmothers left to us. They hoped but we know life can be good. Modern things are wonderful, they enrich our lives and without a doubt make it easier. We will all be much better off finding a way to keep all of it available and accessible. It would be complete neglect to not pass our accumulated human achievements down to future generations. The survival of our progeny depends on it.