Yesterday's New York Times Magazine has a 2-page spread from the U.S. Department of Homeland Security entitled "You Can Be Ready for an Emergency: There are things that you can do now to make sure your family is prepared." It reads like a mattress tag, and makes so many incorrect assumptions about me and my life that it's not possible for me to find this earnest effort anything but pathetic.
Bunker Mentality
Not that being prepared for emergencies is a bad idea. I grew up in hurricane country, and Mom kept a box with water, canned goods, bleach, flashlights, batteries and masking tape in the bottom of the pantry. As she was explaining the box and its contents, Mom told me that the Mormons advocated keeping a 6-month survival kit. There's a fine line between preparedness and paranoia, whether you're fearing the rapture, the nuke or the next terrorist strike.I got a sense of the futility of this type of preparedness during the late 60s at Montclair elementary school. The air raid siren at the nearby naval base sounded, and our teacher insisted we huddle under our desks. Questions were discouraged. I went home and talked to my Mom about it.
"I thought if the big bomb hit, it incinerates stuff almost immediately, and if you're further away from the center, your main concern is radiation," I complained.
"That's right," Mom said. "But the government has told your school to prepare you for an emergency, so they're just trying to do that."
"Even though it won't do any good?" I asked.
"Well, it might make some people feel better to have done something. People don't like feeling like there's nothing they can do."
Right. And officials don't like people realizing nothing the officials can do will be of much help, either. They're paid to make sure we're prepared, so by God, we're preparing.
Back to the HSA Ad
As I gaze at this 2-page ad for the Bush administration, I can't help but speculate about the meeting in which it was conceived.The spread is bordered in red, with highlights of yellow. Its main focus is on developing a Family Communications Plan. The first blank catches my attention: Out-of-state contact, with phone number and e-mail address.
I presume this springs from the 9/11 experience, when Manhattan phone lines must have been jammed for hours as everyone who knew anyone in Manhattan (or D.C., for that matter) tried to get reassurance. So this form is trying to direct and disperse the inevitable phone traffic from the disaster's epicenter. Good idea, actually. If we can e-mail, though - we'd probably be better off e-mailing one another, not the out-of-state contact.
The next section sensibly bids me collect my family's dates of birth, phone numbers and/or walkie talkie numbers. Walkie-talkie numbers? Why dates of birth, I wonder? I start thinking of people walking the rows and rows of tsunami victims laid out in fields, or rescue workers searching through mudslide rubble for survivors. In what case does the exact DOB matter? I wonder how long it'll be before we just microchip everybody, with the little data transmitters my cats have in their necks right now.
I'm asked to record our home, school and business addresses and phone numbers. Not a bad idea, whether terrorists are gunning for us or not. Next we designate both a neighborhood meeting place and a regional meeting place. Without further guidance, I'm not quite sure how far away from home the "regional" meeting place should be. What makes a good neighborhood meeting place? Under what circumstances will we need this information?
Being Prepared is Just Common Sense
The ad says, "Just like wearing a seatbelt or having a smoke detector in your home, it's a smart idea to be prepared for emergencies. Make a family communications plan and put together or buy an emergency kit. It's just common sense."Common sense. Like the common sense that tells you no government official will stride into the room and slap the cuffs on you for tearing off your mattress tag.
As I go through the mental exercise of designating these local and regional meeting places, it becomes increasingly clear to me I'm not going to burden Matt with this discussion.
"If some disaster strikes in our neighborhood, Matt -"
"What kind of disaster?"
"Any kind of disaster. First try to call me. Then Daddy. If you can't get in touch with us, call Julie in Austin.
"Why not Grandma? Why not Uncle Timmy? They're closest."
"They live too close. The phones might not work."
"If the phones aren't working, how can I call anybody?"
"Good point. But if you have to leave school and we're not able to come get you -"
"They don't let me just leave school, Mom."
"I know, this probably would never happen, but if a tornado or something hit your school, go to the Leon Valley Community Center and wait for me or Daddy to come get you."
"Home is closer. Can't I just go home?"
"Well, you could if home is still there and seems safe."
"Why wouldn't it be? Didn't the tornado just hit the school?"
"Well, say the tornado hit the school and our house. Then -"
"The teachers aren't going to just let me go where I want, Mom. Are all the teachers dead, or what?"
"Oh, forget it."
I think I'll prepare for disasters by teaching my son to use his common sense in any situation, and not spend time worrying about, let alone planning for, low-probability problems.
The Business of Disasters
We're also asked to capture our doctor, pharmacist, medical and homeowners insurance information, along with policy numbers. Will State Farm pay for damage resulting from an act of terrorism? Am I sheltering in place, or calling in a claim? Maybe we are just covering the bases for any mishap now. I thought that was FEMA's job. Now I'm wondering what FEMA, Health and Human Services, the National Guard think of this form. Ten to one they're rolling their eyes.Then again, this ill-conceived, ill-executed form is just the kind of result I'd expect from any effort involving more than one government agency. Maybe that's why it's so very bad.
Designing Our Survival Kit
The Get a Kit section beckons next, with its bright red checkboxes. As an avid backpacker, I'm amused to note that the first item we'll need in the event we're forced to "stay in the same place for up to three days" is a backpack. I'm instructed to focus on food, water, and safety items. Although water is the single most important item in here, it's not mentioned first, they've failed to remind folks that the recommended 40 fluid ounces for 3 days is a bare minimum, does not include any for washing, and that's per person, folks. The list recommends allowing 800 calories per day for food, and a "dusk mask" that fits "snuggly."The glaring typos make me wonder if the NY Times staffers saw the errors and kept quiet about them, letting the piece truly reflect the thoughts and talents of its creators.
Additional, optional items are helpfully listed with no room to write in my own. "You may want to add some that are specific to your own family's needs." These include extra food and water, a water container (gee, thanks! I never would have thought of that!), a can opener if I have canned food, prescription medication, items for elderly and a glow stick.
Items for elderly particularly made me chuckle, since prescription medications had better cover it. If Grandpa gets to pack his denture adhesive and crosswords, I sure as hell need my own comforts.
They didn't leave me any blanks to write in the stuff that would be important to me in such a case, but here's what I think of adding:
- Books
- Musical instruments
- Paper and pens
- Good wine
- Tea and coffee
- Printout of my Outlook Contacts list
- Pack of cards
My What Not To Do List
I may, in fact, take this as a nudge to update the info card I make Matt carry, and make sure he's memorized not just our home address and telephone number, but our cell phone numbers as well. But I will not:- Run out to buy plastic sheeting, dust masks and HEPA filters to prepare for a terrorist attack.
- Let the Bush administration frighten me or my family, or take credit for protecting us from terrorism.
