Prepping – Logic

“A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently, die gallantly. Specialization is for insects.” ― Robert A. Heinlein

I’ve probably used this quote before on Vine, and I have purposefully used it elsewhere many times. I use it as a checklist of things to know how to do, to teach my friends and family, to help my children learn about. More than just a checklist, though, it is a treatise on logic. This is the first of two posts on the list of things Heinlein expects of a human being.

Change a diaper. This one relates to family, and to chosen family and friends. You need to know enough childcare that you can change a diaper. More than that, you need to know that a man spending time with his children is not babysitting them, because they are his children. He is parenting, not babysitting. Same with mom. You need to know how you’ll react if a kid sasses you (because it’ll happen, trust me), what to do if one escapes your grasp and runs pell mell for the roadway, and what medications everyone in your intimate personal circle is taking in case you need to tell a paramedic or a doctor.

Plan an invasion. You need to understand the basics of chess and other strategy games. You may not be the best strategist out there, but you need to know how to fight back if there’s a problem. This is literally why we have a Constitution and a Bill of Rights. This is why free speech and gun rights are at the top of the list of protected God-given rights. All the weaponry in the world does you no good if you have no idea how to use it. All the weaponry int he world does you no good if you’re not WILLING to use it, if you have to. Planning an invasion means you have to know all sorts of things about guard rotation, building maps, routes in and out, security, physical barriers, targets, and a whole lot more. You have to be able to think your way through it, even if your plan is simplistic.

Butcher a hog. You must understand where your food comes from. Vegetables come out of the ground, and most of the ones we grow today require a lot of care. Animals have to be cared for, occasionally medicated, fed, watered, exercised, and loved in order to make them good food. They also have to have a clean death. And when it comes time to do the actual butchering, you don’t need to know special cuts and such, or be the most efficient, but you have to be willing to get your hands dirty and dig in as needed. You have to know that, at the point of butchering, the animal no longer cares what you do to its carcass, and your job is to make the most out of that animal’s sacrifice to feed your family.

Conn a ship. Ostensibly, this means to steer a ship, or to navigate. However, it has a secondary meaning, and this is the one I think Heinlein was referring to (because not everyone is a skilled helmsman, nor should they be): to direct the helmsman in the right path to take to avoid problems. Historically, a teen boy would be sent to the front of the ship to look for problems in the river ahead or along a shoreline, and he would call back to the helmsman. Doing so was referred to as “conning the ship.” You need to know how to take control and steer yourself and your family (and possibly your friends, internal community, and larger societal community) into safer waters.

Design a building. Again, this is not Heinlein saying that everyone needs to be a structural engineer. But there are some basic engineering feats people should know about. Why do buildings use columns and arches? Why are struts important? What’s the function of I-beams? If you don’t know, go find out. Do you know how to build a bridge? Go look up Da Vinci’s bridge design. Simple machines like a hoe or a froe should be within your grasp.

Write a sonnet. Why a sonnet? Because it requires attention to detail, structure, following directions, and knowing just when to break the rules enough to make it RIGHT. Having the ability to write a sonnet means you probably have the means to write a convincing argument, a rebuttal, a funeral poem, or words to say to your daughter as she is married. Words have meaning, and they matter.

Balance accounts. I shouldn’t need to school a bunch of conservatives and Republicans on the importance of balancing accounts. You must know how to live within your means, and more importantly, you  must know what to get rid of and what to do without while you balance a budget. It is one of the most vital skills for all humans, and doubly so for politicians, and it’s the one lacking in almost all of them. I don’t know what to say. We need to do better. We need to know how to tighten our belts, and to stop demanding things that simply aren’t in the budget. Freezer scraping soup may be on the menu, but be grateful there are three squares a day available to you.

Build a wall. “Good walls make good neighbors.” (Robert Frost, 1914) We need to remember this again. If we want to get back to “getting along with one another,” the answer is to erect some walls. Ask yourself, why did we all manage to get along so much better only 25 or so years ago? I mean, I hate to admit it, but it’s true. There was more reaching across the aisle, there was more listening, more discussion, more sharing. I think it’s because the internet removed a lot of walls. We see what goes on in people’s living rooms… and frankly, that’s none of our damn business. I’m as bad as anyone, so I’m not trying to skip blame here. There’s a reason Chris asked me to be the voice “behind enemy lines,” as it were. There is no longer a wall between what happens in the privacy of our own home, and the public square. And this is a problem. We need to build some appropriate walls.

Set a bone. Medical again. Can you deal with an emergency? That’s a sincere question, since I know some of you pride yourselves on your readiness. How many of you have actually been in a real emergency, though? I have been in some minor ones, though never a major one, for which I’m grateful. I haven’t set bones, but I have jury rigged splints for broken bones to hold things steady until EMTs arrive. I know how to stop the bleed. I practice in my mind, and a few times I’ve had real-time experience. Why does that matter? Well, when I first started learning first aid and EMT skills, I was 18 and excited to be an adult. I joined St. John Ambulance, and began my training. And the first time I had to deal with anything (thank heavens something truly minor), I giggled. I did the treatment just fine, but I was giggling nervously through the whole thing. My commander took me aside and explained that I could not do it. Not that I had to work on it, or it could be improved, but that IT WOULD NOT HAPPEN AGAIN. And then he took me places to experience the real thing, so that I could get over it. I am grateful.

Comfort the dying. This one… It’s the one no one wants to do. How many of you have had the privilege of sitting with someone, holding their hand as they take their last breaths? Do you know what agonal breathing sounds like, and are you prepared to hear it in your loved ones as they reach that point in their journey? Are you emotionally well enough to take on the immense responsibility of “birthing” someone into their death? Can you put aside your own feelings and emotions long enough to focus on the person who is dying? Are you prepared to listen as they yell angrily at the world that is now depriving them of the life they want, or sing hymns because they are ready and willing to go? You have to be able to do all of it, not just one part. We human beings have made death this removed, sanitary, sterile thing… and that’s not at all what death is really like. Death is messy, emotional, illogical… It involves bodily fluids, strong emotions, unfamiliar sights, smells, and sounds. I have sat with people who were dying, held their hand, and let them experience death in their own way. I have been with them while their breathing slows, and finally stops. I have continued to hold their hand until that quiet chill begins to seep in, and you know they are well and truly gone. It’s humbling.

I’ll write about the other half of the list next week. It’s too much, especially while I’m raw over Charlie’s death. But these points are not just random things Heinlein made up. They represent a host of information that makes up a well rounded human being who can function pretty much anywhere. And that’s desperately what we need right now.