Free The Journal: Cracked Earth by Deborah D. Moore Page B

all
volunteers from the congregation, and we discussed the different
possibilities for meals. I suspect soup might get boring after a
while, nevertheless, at least it would be food. I plan on
announcing this at the town meeting tomorrow and she will make it
part of her sermon on Sunday. It’s hard to estimate how many people
are left in town, and I think after the meeting we might have a
better idea. I know many are leaving to stay with relatives in
other towns, since our town is so isolated. A soup kitchen feeding
a hundred people might work, but for how long?
    I made another last minute decision, which
seems to be frequent for me lately, like people only nodding at me.
“You could start it on Thanksgiving. There’s an extra turkey in my
freezer that you can have.” I thought she was going to start
crying, so it seemed like a good time to make my exit. I was back
at home before noon.
    Has it really been only nine days since the
first earthquake? It feels like so much longer.
    Same chores needed to be done: chickens were
let out, fed and watered; wood was brought in to replace what was
burned yesterday, floors swept and dishes washed. I took some fish
out of the freezer for dinner and will fix some rice to go with it.
I also took out a pound of hamburger for tomorrow.
    I went across the road to talk to Don about
coming over to add wood to the stove when I have to be gone and
told him about the town meeting. Nancy, his wife, was adamant about
not getting involved. Their two freezers are stocked full, and they
won’t need anything or anyone for a long time, at least not until
they run out of gas for their generator. I tried to talk to them
about their dependency on power, but since they’re older, they feel
they know better than me, and they are sure that the power will be
back up soon. I hope they’re right yet I fear they’re not.
    It was another cold day and a colder night.
Power came back on around 9P.M., and was off again forty-five
minutes later. At least I was able to save generator gas, fill a
couple of buckets with water and recharge the cell phone. I wonder
how much of a charge that short time on the grid will give to the
cell tower batteries.
     
    * * *
     
    The town meeting was really short. Only a
dozen people showed up and they immediately complained that we
weren’t doing enough, which soon turned into complaints that we
weren’t doing anything. They were upset over the gas situation.
They were mad that Fram’s couldn’t get any more food or beer, and
they were just plain angry about everything. They refused to shut
up and it got very frustrating. It ended in a shouting match from
the audience, so the board members packed up their notes and went
back to their offices, closing the doors behind them. I went home
very discouraged. I hope Carolyn has better luck on Sunday.
     
    * * *
     
    JOURNAL ENTRY: November 16
     
    The weather is surprisingly beautiful: blue
skies and sunny, temperature got up to fifty-eight degrees, so I
walked for an hour, trying to burn off my frustration.
    I need to do something more. I’m tired of
simple dinners and I wanted to make something! The nice
thing about pasties is they don’t take much to make and they’re
simple. I made a large batch of pastry dough and set it aside to
rest, the peeled and diced one large potato, two small carrots and
a couple of onions, all still raw from the garden. I browned the
hamburger that I thawed yesterday and mixed everything together. I
divided up the dough into eighteen balls and rolled them out. The
veggie mix went in the center and then I rolled and pinched the
sides. No, they weren’t pretty but they held.
    Eighteen golden brown pasties were lined up
on cooling racks on my work island. I set four of them aside for me
and then wrapped the rest up in a towel, rack and all, and set it
in a cardboard tote. I added a case of ramen noodles for Jacob, one
of the roasts from the outside freezer, a bottle of wine, and a box
of .308 shells