 |
|
Jeff's Life
Archive
Jeff Stimpson, 39, has been a working journalist for 15 years. He lives in New York with his wife Jill and sons Alex, 3, and Edwin, four months. He maintains a site of essays, Jeff's Life, at:
JEFF'S LIFE
|
|
 |
Monthly Column... |
by
Jeff Stimpson
A child psychiatrist said that with preschool children, parents should reassuringly answer any questions but not try to initiate conversations about the threat. - News report on how to talk to kids about Terror Alert "Orange."
"I'm under attack!" - My friend Jon, father of two young children.
I do not have duct tape. "Jill, do we have any packing tape!?"
She's in the bedroom, at the computer, monitoring the deepening national crisis and playing "Word Whomp." "What?" she replies.
"Do we have any packing tape?!"
"In the broom closet!"
"I don't see it!"
"What?"
We have no bottled water. We are out of pretzels. "Pretzel?" pleads Alex. He didn't eat his chicken nuggets tonight. We're almost out of those, too.
For the first time since it established the color-code system of grading alerts for possible terrorism, the government has issued a list for home preparedness in the event of biological or chemical attack. I haven't seen it -- I printed one but I can't find it -- but I believe the bulk of the list is similar to preparedness lists for snowstorms: food, bottled water, candles, batteries, radios, flashlights, extra clothing, Band Aids (that last item sort of reminding me of our whole Terror Alert System).
"Pretzel?" says Alex. I look down at him. At least he's not going to initiate conversations about terrorism or a war anytime soon, unless Iraq invades Elmo's World.
"Are you following this Orange Alert thing?" Jill asked the other morning. I said sort of, though my older brother used to tell me stories about Duck 'n' Cover exercises in grade school, and it sounds similar.
There's an Alert! Okay, what should I do? Well, nothing, just know that something could happen and be watchful. What am I watching for? We don't know. What could happen? We don't know. When's it going to happen? Well, we don't know. How do you know it's going to happen? We can't tell you.
I'd love to pay attention to such a conversation, but I write for an accounting publication that's doing a nationwide survey of CPA firms. Right now, just as accountants are moving to Tax Filing Alert Red, I'm trying to get them on the phone so I can dig up the top 15 firms in Montana, Idaho, and Utah. So I can get paid. So I can buy duct tape. If I'm nauseated, if my vision is blurry and my head aches, it's not cyanide gas. It's my job.
"Pretzel?" says Ned, who heard Alex ask.
I have no clue what I'd do if somebody detonated a poison chemical bomb in Manhattan, where I live. I do know that one of the only, surest clues that such a bomb had gone off would be when people started getting sick, which would be too late to start sealing your house and drinking bottled water. Ditto a bio or radioactive bomb. A nuke speaks for itself, generally providing the last word.
People are taking care of themselves in other ways. My father-in-law says he heard of somebody who stockpiled six months' worth of food, which could mean only that the guy just finished a routine run to Costco. People are buying duct tape to seal their homes. Parents are especially worried, the news says. I feel I would be, too, if I could just find the pretzels.
I keep my sanity by repeating chestnuts of war sense, such as "Sneak attacks rarely come when you're expecting them," or "People who couldn't even teach hijackers to fly a plane are probably going to kill themselves carting around chemical weapons long before they reach the target." Jill has the right idea, at this time in our lives: Don't be blind, but don't walk around with a load you can't carry, either.
"Pretzel?" say Alex and Ned together. "Pretzel! Pretzel!" We are out of pretzels, and six months' worth wouldn't last a week with these kids. Maybe Iraq will invade Elmo's World, and put everything in perspective.
Copyright 2003 Jeff Stimpson, all rights reserved
|
|
 |
