Last Days

Author's Note: I'm still pretty strapped for time and internet access right now, and there's a good possibility things won't change before the end of the year. Good thing I have some unused old blog posts in cold storage!

November 2014

I love last days novels.

I'm no fatalist, and I'm not all that anxious for THE last days to begin. But I love exploring interpretations of the events of Revelations from differing viewpoints.

I think I learn something from each author who dares to wade the waters of last days imagination.

Kenneth Tarr taught me the importance of vitamins, sunscreen and portable toilet seats.

Chad Daybell taught me CDs aren't as valuable as food storage.

Jessica and Richard Draper taught me Relief Society will be the most vital organization when World War III rips the earth apart.

And Chris Stewart is teaching me to hold my breath.

I have wondered since studying Revelations in Seminary what some of the cryptic prophecies might mean. Back then, the moon turning from cheese to blood seemed a little on the sci-fi side. But the analogy made me curious about how I would describe the things I've seen in my lifetime if I was talking to people who'd never seen F-15s, helicopters, four-wheelers, fiber optics, smart phones, 3D printers or video games.

I'd been raised by parents who often reminisced about the bomb shelters their neighbors had built or planned to build before I was born, and I grew up near a heavily monitored border checkpoint and military base that kept the potential of nuclear threat in the local headlines. I made an annual pilgrimage or two to Trinity Site, where the first atomic bomb was detonated.

There was no question in my mind I might one day be heading for cover with whatever I could carry.

When I was a teenager, my own personal interpretation of the number of the beast was the glowing red digits on the cable box that sat atop the television. When we turned the lights off to watch Star Trek or Batman in the dark to mimic movie theater ambiance, the apparition of Channel 13 reflected off our glasses, buttons and belt buckles. There was talk back then of 500 channels one day. Who was to say "they" hadn't miscalculated by 166 channels?

Living so close to an air force base, I grew up assuming I would be protected when The Big One hit. Living in the desert, however, I learned no battalion is going to save me when my well or propane tank run dry.

More recently, living so near the Rocky Mountains has taught me to always have fresh batteries and a working flashlight I can find in the dark, candles in every room, matches or lighters I can find in the dark, blankets in every room, food storage with items I actually like and don't necessarily have to cook, and fun things to do at home when the snow is so deep, I can't get to my car. Living in real winter has taught me to love cross-country skiing as a mode of transportation.

Chernobyl taught me I might not necessarily want to survive a nuclear attack. September 11, 2001, showed me how much good there still is in the world, even if it does take a horrendous tragedy to bring it out. Hurricane Katrina taught me the importance of water purification systems. Credit card fraud reinforced all the financial advice about diversification I'd been taught all my life. The terminal illness of a very dear friend taught me to sacrifice my plans to bring comfort to another. The chronic illness of a loved one is teaching me to sacrifice my plans to bring comfort to another.

And a flood in the basement taught me plastic bins!!! Plastic bins!!! Plastic bins!!! Never, ever again store valuables in cardboard boxes!!!

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