The Collapse XXXV: Of Cold And Meetings

21 September 20XX

My Dear Lucilius

Winter, it seems, has arrived early and with a vengeance.

Those springlike conditions I wrote of four days ago suddenly plunged in the last two days to near freezing conditions – cold enough that the last of my summer garden has effectively expired at this point. I am hopeful that I gave the winter garden (sort of foolish calling it an Autumn Garden at this point) a start that with perhaps a little more sun and warm weather, it will take.

On-line instant weather knowledge: something else that has disappeared in the blink of an eye.

Our power continues to maintain itself at about four hours a day or less. I have taken the liberty of shutting off most of the breakers at the circuit box (as I hardly need them anymore) and have only two engaged at the moment: one for the power cord that still drives the computer and wifi and the one that controls the hot water heater (four hours is just about enough time to warm the tank before it goes off again – so my showers are very irregular).

Two days ago – just before the cold hit – a young man whom I cannot remember having met before came by and introduced himself. He said he lived at the other end of town and was checking in with everyone that was left here to see about having a town meeting to discuss the state of things and what could be done. You know how I am about public meetings, but as the situation has changed into what I suppose we shall term “The New Normal”, I said yes.

The meeting was, of course, in the daylight hours (that electricity issue) in the same old business building where we had our July 4^th event. I did a head count coming in – there were about 80 people there or so, most of everyone remaining here I would suppose.

A few words of greeting settled us down, then the young man Xerxes (you will forgive me if I still do not use real names) introduced himself and said a few words. He had been out both directions in the past two days and wanted to fill everyone in on the situation. Effectively, it is not good. Neither town on either side of us had seen a visitor in almost two weeks as well, only locals – nor had received any shipment of any kind from the “outside” world. It appears we are all on our own for the foreseeable future.

He had two suggestions. The first was to set up a sort of communication system within the town. We could use radios or walkie talkies if individuals had them, but suggested setting up a house to house network based on geography as well. People seemed generally approving of this suggestion.

The second was to set up some kind of local “watch” - some kind of sentinel on all of the outskirts of town to let people know if anyone is coming in our out. It would certainly not qualify as a “militia” or anything of that nature, but would at least be a way to keep abreast of if something was moving in towards town. This seemed a little less acceptable at first, with meaningful questions about who would watch, where and when would they watch, how would work be split (in Winter here, it is not a brilliant thing to be out for long periods of time). This seems to have eventually worked itself out: for the moment a passive watch with a notification network. No formal “guard posts” at this time.

And so, accidentally it seems, I have entered the role of “watcher” as I live on an end of town.

We had a social time after these two items with some cookies and coffee (sadly, both of these will become a rarity all to soon) and I met a number of my “neighbors”. 80 or so people is a lot of people to meet, but not as difficult as I made it in my head. What I learned is the following:

- The remaining population is split largely between 3 groups: up to 18, 19-44, and 45-64 (my bracket) with a few above 65.

- Including myself, there are 40 households represented (there are a few more houses, but it sounds as if these are people who have left to stay with other relatives or friends).

- There are a few more men than women.

- There are a few outlying households that came in for the meeting, but it sounds as if some of the larger ranches have “hunkered down” to wait out the storm.

That is about as far as we got, socially.

After the meeting, we all returned home (an advantage of living in a small town is that you are no more than a mile away from your house). Thankfully other than the quail and the greenhouse there is little enough to have to do outside at this point.

My meals are already continuing to evolve (I mention this because by the time I got home, it was dinner time). Breakfast is reliable half a cup of oatmeal, a few dried pieces of fruit, and vitamins. Lunch is even lighter, involving some vegetables or fruits I have either canned, dehydrated, fresh, or otherwise stored. Dinners are a cup of rice, some kind of protein if I have it (fish, beef, deer jerky, even quail eggs) and beans (rice and beans can conveniently be soaked and cooked in small portions on a wood stove). Lots of water and tea.

So tonight I had my beans and rice and a little jerky and my tea and ate as the wind howled and the sun slowly dropped in the sky. The quiet with only the fire and the rabbits eating is both intensive and eerie. I finished with reading a bit more of Dostoevsky (my goodness, Notes from Underground is rather dark, is it not?) and then working penning and then typing this missive to await the next power window.

I had not anticipated the quiet being so intensive.

Your Obedient Servant, Seneca