1MoreDay

1More History Lesson

2010-07-03T20:50:00.000-07:00

One of the things I love best about this country is freedom of speech, freedom to be politically incorrect, freedom to write things, I dunno, like this...

The Star Spangled Banner

Oh, say! can you see by the dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming;
Whose broad stripes and bright stars, through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there:
Oh, say! does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,
In fully glory reflected now shines in the stream:
'Tis the star-spangled banner! Oh, long may it wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore
That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion
A home and a country should leave us no more?
Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollution!
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave:
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

Oh, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand
Between their loved home and the war's desolation!
Blest with victory and peace, may the heav'n-rescued land
Praise the Power that hath made and preserved us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto: "In God is our trust":
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

1More Skill - Faith After The Fall

2010-02-19T12:53:00.000-08:00

Pastoring, Post-Collapse

[*caveat: I am a Christian, but I believe this information can be useful to those from any number of backgrounds or beliefs. The bottom line: put others before yourself.]

Like most preppers, I hope for the best while preparing for the worst. However, I operate with the sick feeling inside that the ‘worst’ is inevitable. So while honing my gardening and rifleman skills, I began to wonder what these activities would look like after the ‘worst’ happens. And being a pastor, I wondered what my pastoral role would look like in a post-collapse situation. Would there still be a church? Would it matter? Upon praying and researching these questions I came upon a simple, yet startling, revelation: we are all ministers, and the role of ministry may be the most overlooked prep in the life of the survivalist.

We are all pastors, and the bible says so. [1 Peter 2:9; Ephesians 3:10-12] So what is the job description of a pastor? Well, the bible tells us that, too. Strengthen the weak. Heal the sick. Bind the wounded. [Ezekiel 34:4] Now, some are called and gifted in ministry in different ways and at different levels, so I’m not disavowing the usefulness of a ‘proper’ education for these callings, but I think many believers sell themselves short when it comes to their role in ministry. God can use you powerfully (yes, YOU) right where you are.

The Need For Pastoral Care

In researching the role of a pastor in a worst-case scenario, I interviewed someone who had lived through one. I called my friend who just returned from a forward operating base in Afghanistan where he served as a combat engineer and asked what peoples’ greatest emotional, mental and spiritual needs are in such a situation. I asked how one could prepare to pastor those needs before the needs arise. He surprised me with his answers.

“It’s nothing you can prepare for. I trained for years and was still completely unprepared for the first five minutes of combat. When you first realize that someone is trying to kill you it’s just utter disbelief. You either get mad and shoot back, or you crumble. My commanding officer, who I had great respect for, dove under cover, curled into the fetal position and cried. You can’t prepare for stuff like that.”

“Then how DO you deal with it?” I asked.

“God will give you what you need when you need it, and you either receive it or you don’t.”

“So is the role of a pastor even needed in situations like that, or are we just all flying on instinct?”

“Because of what I went though over there, because of things like PTSD, I’m on more anti-psychotics than you can shake a stick at. If things really go south, people like me are going to need people like you to keep us sane.”

One of my main roles as a pastor has been helping people deal with stress and mental trauma. I refer people to specialized psychological care when appropriate, but in the worst-case scenario YOU may be IT. My friend brought up several good points that I’d like to condense for the ease of your applying them to your preparation philosophy:

1) You cannot prepare for the mental/emotional trauma of such extreme situations.

2) God WILL give you what you need when you need it, if you are open to it.

3) Medications will not always be available to maintain mental stability, and an alternative will be necessary.

While we may not be able to anticipate the shock of what may come, we can still prepare to care for people during and after a crisis. After all, no plan survives first contact with the enemy, but that doesn’t mean you don’t plan. For example, the simple sudden lack of anti-depressants/anti-psychotics alone would necessitate the presence of a caring pastor or counselor. Add to that the fractured reality of people trying to kill you and you can imagine what an important prep this is, and one that is NOT on most of our lists. So, what are the nuts and bolts of BEING a pastor, especially in a post-collapse situation?

Availability

In a nutshell, show up. A pastor must:

1) Discern what the need is.

2) Be willing to go where the need is.

3) Allow God to equip you to fulfill the need.

Prayer is essential for all of these things to happen. Our bible heroes like Moses and Gideon weren’t born brave, skilled and ready to serve God. They were called, and then there were some serious conversations with God which aided them in their tasks. Prayer not only helps you listen to God, but equips you to listen to those you are serving. Left to your own limited skills, you may miss something important about your charge that needs to be addressed. This is how ordinary schmucks like us get to do great things in God’s Kingdom, even if we’ve never seen the inside of a seminary: we simply ask for His help, and He gives it to us. Again, prayer is ESSENTIAL.

Evangelism

We must be always aware of peoples’ needs, the FIRST of which is their need for God. One of the issues we have with evangelism in the modern American church is that most people are so well cared for they don’t recognize their need for God. I served for three years at a church in a very well-to-do area and the people who were most open to God drove twelve year old Buicks, not brand new Lexuses. After the balloon goes up, everyone will be in crisis. They may be more open to the hope which God offers them if they are overcome with hopeless situations. And if there is no local church to serve people in need, we must remember the old truth that most modern Christians have forgotten: the church is not a building, but WE are the church. WE are the hands and feet of God on earth. Which brings me to outreach.

Outreach

One thing the modern church must not forget, even NOW, is to meet the practical needs of people. While we are charged with offering the good news of Christ, we must remember the pastor’s job description, which addresses the spiritual AND practical needs of individuals. A great way to make God’s love real for someone is to meet a practical need. I have seen people break down and sob when simply handed a bottle of ice water while their car was stuck in traffic on a hot day. Outreach is not difficult, and you don’t need to travel to a third world country to touch someone with God’s love in a way that impacts them tangibly.

Conclusion

Some pastoral situations are truly best handled by an experienced individual with specialized education. But the main thing I’d like for you to take away from this is that GOD HAS WHAT YOU NEED, IN EVERY SITUATION. Don’t let inexperience or lack of education prevent you from making yourself available to those in need, now AND after things get toasty. Be it wise counsel, an open ear, an encouraging word, or even a water bottle given in love, you DO have something important to offer. The job description of a pastor may not be on the recruiting roster of every survival retreat, but it is in God’s survival manual.

1More Homesteading Update - Fuzzy Slippers

2010-02-13T04:56:00.000-08:00

The last time Charleston saw this much snow the Berlin wall had just come down.

It appears our family relocated to the Lowcountry with not much more than each other to build our new sustainable life of independence just before a season of record rain, cold and snow.

Gold medal.

We put the kids to bed last night, sat down with books and drinks and were quietly enjoying the snowfall. Out the front window, our 100-watt earth killer on the porch cast a more beautiful glow on the accumulation beneath the trees in the national forest than any number of Al Gore's GE flourescents could dream of. Then, it went out.

My thoughts immediately went to the kids. A double wide in the woods isn't much better than a cardboard box downtown when the power goes, and we're just a couple years shy of the off-grid 10KW solar rig. Moreover, it certainly didn't make for an axiety-free mental gear shift having just settled in to chapter five of One Second After.

So, the kids. It's ten o'clock and I need to keep them warm for the next, gulp, ten hours or so. After that we can pile in the car and bug out if need be. I hooked a space heater up to my commercial 12V battery, but the Sam's Club inverter couldn't handle the current. Fire it is. What a blessing that we moved into a dwelling constructed against the better advice of not putting fire places in mobile homes. We had some dry logs under plastic outside, but I'd neglected to replenish the kindling. Looking around desperately for anything DRY and INDOORS that could serve as kindling (rolled newspaper? old easter baskets? the cat?) I decided it was time to go outside. We live in a swamp that has seen the most rain it's seen since 1941, and the snow wasn't helping, but if I could find some downed branches I had enough paper to get them dried out. But that still meant I had to go outside. Did I mention we live in a swamp?

So I traded the fuzzy slippers for my water proof work boots and an AR-15 (the closest thing with a flashlight on it...really) and headed into the woods. To add injury to injury I broke the middle finger on my right hand two days ago, so most of the wood gathering was truly a single-handed operation. But after a few sloshy trips through the mud and leaves I had enough kindling for the night.

Then it hit me.

I'm in the middle of 590,000 acres of national forest at night. I'm in the freezing cold. I'm in a region unused to and unequipped for snow and currently suffering blackout. I'm gathering firewood for my family in my pajamas with a broken finger and a military pattern battle rifle strapped to my back. I'm precisely where I need to be.

After we moved here in August, we had six of the hardest months of our life together. There were challenges that we were certain we wouldn't make it through. But we did. We wondered if the the things we were facing were God's way of telling us we'd made a mistake moving our family here. We wondered if the new life we were trying to create was spitting us out and telling us to go home. Then it hit us. We are home.

We could have seen the snow as just another hardship. It made the firewood soggy. It made the house cold. It made the driveway soup. But it was beautiful and that's how we'll remember it. We received it like a gift. Sometimes a gesture of welcome is only distinguished from one of rejection by the response of the recipient.

1More Series - Freedom Pt 4

2010-01-11T13:55:00.000-08:00

Today I think I'll conclude my series on freedom. I'll by no means wrap up the personal sovereignty thread that will undoubtedly weave through this blog in the future, but life is settling down for us now and it's time to stop philosophizing and put rubber to road. But while our heads are still in the stars...

Last week I talked about a couple of near-death experiences I had in the music industry. There were many adventures on the road in tight clothing chasing dangling carrots. In a nutshell, there was one simple question that I asked myself which kept me from signing my name to legal documents:

"What can these people do for me that I can't do for myself?"

The answer? Not much. They can buy you a hell of a dinner, to be sure. But after the smoke clears, what you want is a good looking and sounding record and a team to promote that record. None of these things are out of the reach of the average creative person with, I'll relent, copious amounts of elbow greese. I walked away from my musical career having learned many things, but as concerns freedom, I learned that the more you depend on others for something you can do yourself, the less free you are.

And you guessed right, I did become a bit of a control freak. In fact, I learned some more hard lessons in my subsequent career recovering from this over-correction. I was a worship pastor of a large suburban church, coaching between 20-60 volunteer leaders for various projects. It was only when I again began to trust people to share my work that my dapartment became fruitful and my family enjoyed more of my presence at home. But as I assigned more and more tasks to the people around me, I understood that I was not giving in to the dependence that I was almost victim to in the music industry. Though I had to ultimately answer for mistakes made by my subordinates, I could at any time rescind the authority I'd abdicated. And here lies the lesson I learned:

The difference between dependence and delegation is in where the authority lies.

And I really don't have much more than that to end with. No stories of my childhood, no poetic imagery to dress up what I've been talking about. The important things to remember about freedom are quite simple, and it's important in all situations to be aware of who has the authority. This awareness will only come when we are unemotional, and perhaps a bit well-informed. Guilt and ignorance are easy traveling companions on the road to slavery.

Okay, you got me, one story. My wife was working with some children a couple years ago and she asked them where spaghetti comes from. They grew quiet, obviously thinking hard. One boy spoke up and cautiously said, "Krogers".

And that's really why I do this. I had once bought into the American dream where debt is expected of you and spaghetti comes from Kroger. When I lost that ministry job, I was very grateful that I had paid off our debt and was growing our own food in the back yard. Had I still been dependent on credit cards and Kroger I'm not sure what we would have done...but I'm not the only one around here who's realizing the dangers of dependence and hopefully some of you can learn some stuff here. Plus, have you had home-made spaghetti with a salad from your back yard? Freedom tastes good.

1More Series - Freedom Pt 3

2010-01-04T13:45:00.000-08:00

In one of my many former lives I was a professional musician. I toured 14 cities east of the Mississippi playing homespun songs in dirty clubs filled with the most interesting people I'd ever met. And I had the time of my life. At some point, I decided I wanted to be a rock star. I spent a year and a half traveling to Nashville, working with a manager and flirting with A&R, lawyers, producers and other people who drive Jags and Lexuses. Truth be told, I barely made it out alive. My manager turned into a mentor and lifelong friend, but the rest of the experience left a lot of scars.

One particular WWJD moment comes to mind.

I was getting ready for a showcase in Nashville and all the bands were in the bathroom squeezing into spandex Diezels and carefully torn t-shirts. So help me God, I was straightening my hair. This was back when I HAD hair but, truly, there was so much dye and product in it NO WONDER God repossessed it. At any rate, my pure intentions for a career of creative expression that would bring hope to millions had turned into a clumsy, flacid thrust toward the arms of affirmation. So I quit. Good thing, too. My band was actually doing well and had we signed a recording contract I probably would have ended up $300,000 in debt with a needle in my arm and a shelved product. One of the finest phrases my lips have ever crafted is, "If Atlantic wants me then they'll have to deal with an artist that doesn't tour. My family needs me." If I had signed a contract, I wouldn't have had the sack (or legal right) to say such a thing. But the point of my story actually blooms in the middle of this blessed debacle, so let's rewind a little.

Before Atlantic, before the spandex, around the time of the manager.

Working in Nashville, I had been sculpting myself into what I thought the labels wanted. I had been doing everything I was supposed to be doing. I was on the phone, in the gym, or on the stage constantly. Things were really going somewhere...and I was miserable. I ended up having a falling out with the manager I had been working with. I had no clue who I was anymore, but I was growing uncomfortable with the direction of the development and my manager couldn't shop a nervous and unfinished round peg into the square holes of a 'zero development' record industry. So I stopped going to Nashville. I was dropped by my manager and my booking agent. All I had to show for it was an EP of a voice I didn't recognize and a rolodex full of people waiting for me to get my shit together.

So I regrouped.

I was determined to make this thing work, but I wanted to do it on my own terms. Unfortunately, my own terms meant that I had about 60 bucks to work with. The band I had formed while working in Nashville stayed with me. Turns out they actually believed in me. And they helped me get my voice back. We became a real team, got a proper band name, and took the path of the indie rocker. The drummer invested in a cheap laptop and scored us some cracked recording software (which we later purchased, so stop the finger wagging). With an SM57 and some dear friends we began recording in basements and bathrooms. We spent several months staying up nights experimenting with guitar tones and getting the snare head detuned just so. One of my favorite moments was recording guitars in a condemned cathedral. I had to track in pitch dark because the cops would come if they saw lights through the stained glass in the abandoned room. But the SOUND. Wow. I'll never forget it. And after it was all over, we had a record. We had the record we wanted. We had the record I'd been trying to make all along.

Yeah, we went on the road with it and got ourselves on radio and TV and in magazines. And then came the spandex and hair gel in the Nashville bathroom that sounded code blue for my career. But it was the earlier experience of breaking free and doing things MY way that gave me the strength to say 'no' again. Because I'd refused to compromise once before and been okay, I knew I would be okay again...and I was.

So what's all this have to do with freedom? Well, ring up some famous people who are $300k in debt with a needle in their arm and a shelved record and ask them if they would have done anything differently. Ask them if signing their name on a piece of paper at some point in the journey changed anything for them. Ask them if they'd do it again. Ask them if that one moment where they granted permission made each moment thereafter less and less free. Ask them if they still straighten their and wear spandex to please their masters. Ask them if they have a choice.

1More Thought - On Christmas

2009-12-09T10:33:00.000-08:00

There's something about this time of year.

According to several scholars, Jesus was born in October...around the time of harvest. So, if the season many celebrate as his birthday wasn't really his birthday, why is there still some sort of magic that permeates the air? Why do I hear twinkling music in my head when I see the first flakes of December? Why am I just a little bit nicer to strangers? Why do I feel like a child again?

There's something about this time of year.

Maybe it's that we, as humans, are powerful. When we call upon something, it comes to be. So whether you're Constantine at the Council of Nicea or a beggar on the street, when you call upon love...it shows up. Humans MADE this time of year in the name of love. And so love dwells in it. Wow. Did we do that?

There's something about this time of year.

So next time you're fighting over a parking space, remember how powerful you are. You can choose what you bring to this season, and thereby choose what this season is all about. Judge a little less. Give a little more. Hug a child. Be kinder to yourself. Play in the snow.

There's something about this time of year.

Matthew 25 (helps local community)

World Vision (helps global community)

Salvation Army (helps)

Freedom Pt 2

2009-11-14T09:25:00.000-08:00

When I was a boy my neighborhood would have yard sales every weekend during the summer. Once in a while my mom would let me put my very own table out near the sidewalk and watch over it all by myself. I would haggle with the neighborhood kids over scratched up GI Joes and headless He-Men. I was a collector, too, and so could be found the odd pile of baseball cards, comic books, and even rocks. One time I set out some old postage stamps that I'd been getting bored with. I didn't even put a price on them, but I imagined they couldn't be worth more than a couple of Boba Fetts.

Rob was one of the shadier kids in the neighborhood, and often made my life hell. So I was really excited when he offered me a whole dollar for the stamps. He took the stamps without so much as a casual fat joke or other half-hearted insult. As he walked away I was feeling pretty good and I thought of the four packs of Garbage Pail Kids I could now buy.

About a half hour later Rob came back down the sidewalk with his older buddy, Mark, another shady kid who wasn't as mean as Rob. He was quiet, though, and I think I was more scared of Mark BECAUSE he was quiet. The two boys approached my table with wild faces, obviously very excited to tell me something. Rob was holding the stamps and he blurted out, "My dad looked these stamps up in a book and he said they're worth a lot of money!"

"Really?" I said. "I guess I have had them for a long time. I don't even remember where I got them."

"Yeah, they're old. My dad said they're worth about a hundred dollars!" My heart sank. I was no longer thinking about the Garbage Pail Kids I was going to get. I was thinking about the GI Joe aircraft carrier that I COULD'VE got with that hundred bucks. Mark must've seen my expression change, and he seized an opportunity.

"Hey, Rob. I bet he would trade you all the rest of the stuff on his table if you gave him back the stamps." Rob slowly turned to look at him as if Mark had just said he'd found his dad's dirty magazines.

"I never thought of that. I guess if he really wants them back." He turned to look at me and shrugged, waiting for me to make a move. I did want them back. I wanted them back so much it burned. I couldn't stand that I'd let one of the biggest bullies in the neighborhood get away with MY stamps for a lousy BUCK. YES, I wanted them back! There's no way all the stuff on my table was worth a hundred bucks and he was giving me a chance to get my stamps back out of his filthy clutches. I wanted to yell, 'Aha, now I've got you! I'm gonna get back what's mine and for once you won't have the power over me!' But I didn't say a word. I just tensed my lips together, held out my hand, and nodded. Rob laid the stamps in my hand and then he and Mark loaded up their arms with action figures, squirt guns, and even a clock radio.

As they walked away I watched them exchange curious expressions of satisfaction and after they were out of earshot I saw them banter excitedly. I looked down at the tiny pieces of paper in my hand and I knew it. I knew in my heart that these stamps weren't really worth a hundred bucks. I knew I'd been duped. What happened that day was never talked about again, but every time I saw Mark and Rob they had a twinkle in their eye and just the start of a malevolent grin.

Some of you might be wondering what this story has to do with freedom. We often think of freedom as something that is taken from us, something that we are forced to give up by an oppressive government, or even an oppressive or abusive relationship. Rarely do we think of freedom as something that we would ever willingly give away, later to realize that we've been duped. These bullies could have easily beaten me up and taken everything I had. But by manipulating me, they took so much more. How much more satisfying it must have been for them when I GAVE them what they wanted. Not only did they have my stuff, but they had CONTROL over me. Leaving me with the stamps was not just a tactical leverage for their scheme, but also a rather poetic way to remind me that I had received precisely what I'd asked for.

The key word here is permission. Yes, there are times when freedom is taken from us. But those situations are historically preceded by countless incidents, sometimes generations' worth, where freedom is given away willingly. Pay close attention whenever you're in a position to grant permission. The next time you're asked to sign something, read the fine print again. Don't worry about being polite, the person standing in front of you WILL wait. The next time you're about to say, 'yes', think long and hard before you open your mouth. It's okay to have an uncomfortable silence; there are far too few of them, anyway. And especially remember this: the next time you have a chance to speak up for yourself, speak up. Ask a question. Say what you're feeling. Be very careful of just silently nodding, your hand held out to accept your reward.

1MoreApology

2009-11-14T09:20:00.000-08:00

For three months now, my family and I have been transitioning from city mice to country mice. While we want to keep you abreast of our homesteading adventures, we've had no internet access and very little time to drive the 50 miles to Starbucks for the AT&T wifi. So, my apologies for not keeping in touch better. Once we're settled in to our property and have a permanent internet solution, we'll provide more frequent updates. Until then you'll have to make due with my infrequent political musings, and you're always welcome to come on down in person and help pound some nails.

1 More Series - Freedom Pt 1

2009-09-29T06:45:00.000-07:00

So our Constitution celebrated another birthday recently and I've been thinking about where we are as a nation. By 'nation', I don't mean the political United States but rather the people. I did read through some parts of the Constitution again and it just floored me how far off track the country has got itself legislatively. But if you want to hear bitching about that there are a lot better places than here. While reading the 200+ year old document I admit I did pine for a governing system that looked more like what was intended, but my heart truly ached for the people of our country. Laws come and go, and some laws (most?) are not even legal, but the condition of the people are the true barometer of a country. Where are our hearts? Spirits? Minds? Where is our strength?

As I make sloppy, rushed attempts at blogging, tweeting and still sloppier attempts at being a husband and father I'm alarmed by how much of my life controls me. Shouldn't it be the other way around? I feel as though the things I've allowed to be set in motion socially, financially, vocationally, creatively and politically are now demanding more of me than I can give...and not even on my terms anymore. I've created a monster, and the monster is the story of my life. When I die, I'd to speak better of my life than, "Whew, I'm glad I kept up with that for as long as I did...but I'm glad it's over." Screw the Joneses, how many of us feel like we're trying to 'keep up' with our OWN lives?

And all this hamster-wheeling in the most free country on earth. What for? It's as if we think of freedom like we think of money: have more, spend more; I've got so much that I CAN do with my life I'll go ahead and do it ALL. And in the melee of satisfying wants, living up to expectations, providing for needs, and simply participating in the culture...we've forgotten who we are. As a nation, as individuals...we've lost our identity. And as one of my favorite bands puts it, "You do it to yourself, and that's what really hurts."

So how do we lose our personal freedom in a country that prides itself on liberty? How does this loss of personal freedom lead to a loss of political freedom? [Spoiler Alert: We BEG for it.] These are some of the things I'll be discussing in the next few blog posts, along with a shot in the freakin' dark about how we can STOP the bleeding and get some of our freedom back. [Spoiler Alert: That's the whole reason I do 1MoreDay.]

For now, though, this.

1 More Backfill

2009-09-21T19:51:00.000-07:00

Well, I hope 'I'm sorry' cuts it. I've been without reliable internet access for going on two months now, so the blog has suffered greatly. If you aren't the forgiving type, let me bribe you with a blog series. I'll be doing the next few entries on something that underlies the core philosophy of 1 More Day...Freedom. Yes, It's Constitution week and I'm going to go America all over your asses. We'll be staying mostly in the philosophical realm as I want you to just get thinking about the gravity of the issue, allowing you to draw your own practical conclusions and formulate action steps that are unique to your life. Until then, allow me to explain my absence.

My family and I decided to suddenly move 700 miles south. We moved from the Ohio Valley to the Low Country of South Carolina. As my wife puts it, 'I traded a mansion in the city for a trailer in the woods.' The biggest reason for our move was as a big step toward building our homestead. SO, we'll be keeping you up to date with our progress and hopefully you can learn a lot from our mistakes. For example...

Mistake number one: inadequate education as to the different wildlife present in our new location. They have what the locals call 'March Mosquitoes' down here. Just when you thought mosquitoes couldn't get any more annoying, they get bigger. Here's a normal mosquito that happened to meet its maker on my windshield right next to a giant marsh mosquito. There ain't enough DEET in Monsanto's tanks for these babies. Til next time...

1More Gardening Tip

2009-08-10T17:31:00.000-07:00

It's getting late and most of you reading this new blog are in the midwest. As you're picking your Romas and Beefsteaks, you might be thinking about how best to wind down the season. My wife, being the genius that she is, has devised a simple way to grow lettuce well into the late summer heat. Now, before I reveal this tip, please forgive me for not having pictures. We've just done a major relocation and left our massive garden behind. In the chaos of packing boxes I neglected to snap some photos of this contraption. Well, here ya go...

My wife actually conducted an experiment. In one of her square foot gardening beds, she planted a row of romaine lettuce just as she normally would, only very late in the season (late June/early July). This was the control group. She also planted another row of the same romaine seeds, only she planted them next to a row of peppers that already had a few inches on them. On the OTHER side of this row of romaine was a row of tomatoes that she'd started earlier in the season. The tomatoes were already steadily climbing one side of an INCLINE lattice that she made out of bamboo and jute twine. The experimental romaine had a nice shady spot at the base of the inside of this a-frame, shaded on one side by the tomatoes and on the other side by the peppers.

The results? Sure enough, the control group romaine was obliterated by the July sun, but the shaded romaine gave us several fresh salads before our early August move! Neat.

1MoreContest

2009-07-28T21:03:00.000-07:00

Thee has been an unusual amount of turmoil, and, to be fair, excitement in our lives lately. My apologies for neglecting the flock here. When we get back on the horse we'll be living in a new state, building up a new property, and working new jobs. For now, I've got a little challenge for you all. I'd like to give away a brand new First Alert Two Story Fire Ladder ($50 retail value) to one of you. Here's the catch, I want you to e-mail me a personal experience about how you made your home more self-sufficient, how you learned a new practical skill, what you did to improve your health, how you made someone else's life better, or even how you came up with a new way to get deer out of your garden (our current bane). The best, most entertaining, funniest, or most useful entry will win the the fire ladder. Your entry will be posted here on the blog and I will personally mail you your prize. Yes, I am the only judge, No, there are no rules. It's completely up to me who wins the ladder and I am a flawed human being who has on occasion been susceptible to bribes. Good luck!

1More Parenting Moment

2009-06-21T10:05:00.000-07:00

My wife's family has a beautiful piece of property in Michigan situated in the middle of nowhere on the quietest lake in the world. We took our kids up there recently and our 3-year-old daughter got to see her first body of water that ISN'T the Ohio River. She also went for her first canoe ride and caught her first TWO fish.

We went out on the pontoon boat with my wife, daughter, father in law, brother in law and some friends. My daughter was using the Mickey Mouse fishing pole that both of my wife's brother's had learned on as children. Papa would cast the line out and then hand the pole to my daughter, letting her watch the bobber and reel it in all on her own. When she got a bite, Papa said "Pull! Pull!" and would coach her to reel in the line quickly. She brought in a good-sized Blue Gill.

Then she did it again. Two fish in a row. When she lifted the second fish out of the water she watched it dangle for a second and then exclaimed, breathlessly, "Holy crap!"

I'm sure she learned that from her mother.

1MoreQuote

2009-06-10T11:24:00.000-07:00

"Ilse, a childhood friend of mine, once found a raspberry in the concentration camp and carried it in her pocket all day to present to me that night on a leaf. Imagine a world in which your entire possession is one raspberry and you give it to your friend." - Gerda Weissman Klein, Holocaust Survivor

Thanks, Park + Vine!

2009-06-01T18:14:00.001-07:00

Thanks so much to the folks who came to the 1 More Day workshop at Park + Vine tonight. If you missed it, I'd love to send you a free digital version of the Resources handout. Just send me an e-mail requesting a copy.

Downwardly Mobile For Jesus

2009-05-27T09:03:00.000-07:00

While growing up my wife attended a Presbyterian church in Flint, Michigan. She has quite a few fond memories of Christmas services, grandma singing in the choir, and helping in the soup kitchen. One memory, though, has haunted her into adulthood. She remembers one particularly cold Michigan winter day when she was helping in the soup kitchen. As she was setting up shop in the church's basement she noticed a line of people outside the church waiting for the food. She asked if they could be let in early just to get warm. They told her no. She asked if they could enter the main church building upstairs to get warm with the rest of the congregation. Again, no. So the message this church sent was, "We'll feed you when it's convenient for us, and as long as you don't mingle with the REAL churchgoers upstairs."

Now I know some of you reading this aren't 'religious'. That's fine. But I urge you to take another look at the life of Jesus. A lot of the CHURCH needs to take another look at the life of Jesus. For one, Jesus was homeless. He was misunderstood by his family, betrayed by some of his closest friends, oppressed by the religious leaders and politicians of his day, and didn't make a living wage. Sound like anyone you know? Sounds like MOST people I know.

I've worked a suburban church for the last several years, and this past winter my wife and I decided to leave the community we were serving in. Not because they were bad people. On the contrary, we met some life long friends there. But we just found that we're wired differently. We cried out for something deeper, more honest, and more dangerous than cookie cutter houses and pot lucks. We found that we were becoming more like the people upstairs than the people downstairs.

So we moved. It cost me a job, but probably saved my marriage. Now we garden and raise chickens. We spend $50 a week on groceries instead of $150. We talk to neighbors more. We live in a place that's more honest, and more dangerous. We live downstairs. What's my point?

Put on your apron. Pick up the ladle. Open the door.

Taking the bible study out of the church.

2009-05-14T17:57:00.000-07:00

Last winter my wife and I were huddled up in our safe little suburban home on a particularly dangerous night. It was a snow emergency and not even BOGO panties at Victoria's Secret could get people out of the house. It was actually very peaceful, unusually quiet even for our neighborhood. So the sirens caught us off guard. You always feel a little more gravity in your tummy when you hear them get this close. We knew it was across the street so we did our American duty and gawked out the window. Three police cruisers, and ambulance and a fire truck slid down our road and parked directly in front of our house. We watched them buzz in and out of the house across the street, bumbling in the snow and violently pounding on Mike's chest under the flourescent lights through the open garage door. Once they loaded our neighbor into the ambulance, it took them nearly ten minutes to move teh firetruck which had blocked the medics in on our icy cul de sac. Later we found out from a friend of the family that they had to restart Mike's heart three times while they waited for the lumbering red behemoth to move. In the following days Mike was fighting for his life, given about a 30% chance of winning.

Enter: Doug. The following week I saw Mike's next door neighbor (my other neighbors across the street) struggling to get out of the driveway. I helped push their Saturn up the steep, ice-covered incline and paused to share a breath with Doug. Conversation went immediately to our unfortunate neighbor. "You know it's a shame no one came to get me the night mike had his heart attack", he lamented, "I'm a heart surgeon. I was home that night and had all of my gear upstairs."

Question: How many people living on your street have the unique ability to help when your life goes to hell in a handbasket? How would you know? Would anyone even notice you were suffering? Funny that in a world where we have the power to twitter people in Singapore, we don't have relationships with the heart surgeon, or the heart patient, next door.
I've been thinking about ways to reverse the isolation, the fear, and the illusion of safety that my wife and I endured in the suburbs. Working in a church for the past few years I'm familiar with the "bible study" as a social model. We call them community groups, or small groups, most of the time now.

What I'm wondering is, why does this have to be a uniquely religious experience? What's wrong with having the folks on Apple Valley Ct over for drinks and Scrabble? No office friends allowed! No church friends or fishing buddies or homeschool moms allowed! Get to know the people you share air with. Get to know their hurts, their gifts...and see if you might just get the chance to restart their heart some time.

1MoreWorkshop - Park + Vine June 1st

2009-05-04T17:21:00.000-07:00

I'll be speaking at Cincinnati's green general store, Park + Vine on June 1st at 7pm. If you're in the area, be sure to stop by. I'll be speaking on food storage, gardening, sustainable living and disaster prep. Besides, where else can you get cloth diapers, fair trade organic chocolate, and spare bicycle parts?

Park + Vine
RSVP - 1MoreDayInfo@gmail.com

Swine Flu

2009-05-03T07:19:00.001-07:00

The swine flu has a wiki page that seems very helpful and is updated often.

Also, you can track confirmed cases here.

Keep your head on this one, but keep aware. Also, if this dies out, don't let yourself get comfy this summer. The H1N1 could resurface this winter with a vengeance. The CDC has SOP for pandemic flu outbreaks that includes quarantine from 90 days to 6 months, or however long it takes for them to stockpile vaccine. Do you have 3-6 months of food IN YOUR HOME? Or, you could wait for FEMA to roll up to your house with a care package of peanut butter. ;)

1MoreTip #2

2009-05-03T07:18:00.001-07:00

Pace Yourself To Brace Yourself

With two kids, two jobs and a ton of volunteer work, my free time has been reduced to ten minutes on the toilet reading the newest Cheaper Than Dirt catalog. So adding anything else to my schedule (or budget) would be like riverdancing on a house of cards. When my wife and I meet new people who are interested in preparing for hardships or disasters, or just in becoming more self-sufficient, we often see a look of mixed panic, despair and frustration. Once people are aware of the need to change their habits of voracious consumerism and dependence, they become overwhelmed with the amount of work they feel they have to do. This is exactly what we are trying to help people ALLEVIATE!
I spent the first 14 years of my life eating whatever I wanted. At age 12 I clocked in at 247 pounds. Once I realized that this lifestyle needed to stop, I tried everything I could to fix it overnight. Deal A Meal, Jenny Craig, Slim Fast...you name it. What worked? A complete lifestyle change accomplished over a long period of time. By age 19 I had dropped 90 pounds of fat, gained muscle and cured myself of asthma. Point: you spent your entire life getting used to being dependent on the system, so take it easy on yourself as you learn to do things a little differently.
Example: one of the greatest tragedies of our time is debt, personal and national. If you find yourself finally wanted to get rid of your lifestyle of debt, it's gonna take some time. My wife and I follow Dave Ramsey's plan, but there are a lot out there that work for a lot of people (Crown Financial, Good Sense, etc). Three years ago a credit counselor told my wife and I that our only options were bankruptcy or extra jobs. Already working full-time and not wanting to stiff my already po'd creditors, I decided to take it slow and figure out a better way. SO, like I changed my body, I found a system that slowly changed my habits and chipped away at my debt. We ended up paying off ten credit cards and loans in 16 months (over $12,000) without making a single extra dime, and without filing bankruptcy.
Moral: keep working hard, but give yourself grace. If food storage is your thing, pace yuourself and put away what you can when you can. If debt elimination is your priority, find a system that works and stick with it over time. If gardening is what your passionate about, Don't plant more than you can manage at first. Start with a couple boxes, or even just a couple containers and increase each year. The goal here is to readjust your mindset, gain skills, and LEARN TOGETHER.

1MoreLink

2009-05-03T07:17:00.000-07:00

http://www.sesamestreet.org/ready/

Sesame Street has a preparedness curriculum. Freakin' sweet. Soon I'll be able to ask my three year old for advice on ultralighting my BOB.

1MoreLink

2009-05-03T07:15:00.000-07:00

Be sure to check out the links section of this group. This is where I'll be posting most of the resources I think you might find useful. Everything from square foot gardening to zeroing your AR15. Here's a shameless plug for my wife's new blog about Urban Homesteading. Lot's of reports about our adventures gardening and raising chickens.

http://www.theurbanoutpost.blogspot.com/

1MoreTip #1

2009-05-03T07:13:00.000-07:00

What if there were a flood or ice storm like we've seen several in the past few months and you had to remain in your home for several weeks? What if gas prices this summer were to cause a trucker strike and grocery store shelves were bare for over a month? Could you make it on what you have in your house right now?

Get a notebook and open your pantry. Roughly group your food on hand into meals and see how many days you could make it stretch. If you're like most Americans you'll have about a week's worth of food in the home. Here's a great way to start a small food reserve, courtesy of TheSurvivalPodcast.com:
Clear off a shelf in your pantry. This will be your food storage collection area. On your next few trips to teh store, but multiples of a few of your common items (two cans of tuna instead of one, four boxes of cereal instead of two). Remenber: store what you eat normally, so you don't have and (ahem) surpises if you ever have to depend on your stored food. Now, put the duplicate items on your empty pantry shelf. When the shelf is full, put it all into a Sterilite container and throw in in the basement. This is a great way to get a few more weeks of food in the home without spending a lot of extra money and time.

You can also apply this technique to things other than food. Make a first aid supplies collection shelf in the bathroom, or a water bottle collection area in the basement. Doesn't hurt to have a few flashlights/batteries, candles and even reading material if you're holed up in the house without power for an extended time. My family was without power for a week last year and the local Krogers were closed from the outage as well. We were grateful to have a little extra food on hand but didn't realize how hooked on TV we'd become!