Part 3 (1/2)

-Weixelman To: Ellen Biddle, North Kansas City, KS From: Gary Hoegaarden and Nancy Biddle, Santa Fe, NM July 20th, 20+5 Ellie- h.e.l.lo from Santa Fe. We hope things are going all right for you in KC, and wanted to let you know we'd be coming out your way pretty soon. And not to just visit. Thing have become so intolerable here that we can't stay, and so we're moving back east. We don't mean to sound pushy a” like we're coming out and just be ready whether you like it or not a” but we remembered the offer you made the other year, and are now hoping that it wasn't just an off-the-cuff nicety.

The water out of the Cochila Reservoir is dangerously close to being tapped out and water from snowmelt is simply not going to cut it for those of us left. Which reminds me that what few people remain here seem completely set on reverting to some kind of semi-savage lifestyle. Not like Native Americans ”n.o.ble savagery” (yes, I know the term is bull, but you get the idea a” they had a civilization before white folk came over and hosed it all up for them. By the way, the indians on the rez west of town have apparently returned to their old, pre-Western ways and seem to be thriving), but seriously barbaric mob rule stuff. It's disturbing to us and dangerous here now, so early last year we made the decision to get the h.e.l.l out of this place and to somewhere just a touch more civilized. Honestly, we never considered Kansas City all that civilized, but we're willing to bet it's a far cry better than what Santa Fe has turned into. Just last week I scarcely escaped a beat down and probably far worse at the hands of roving thugs. I did take a good shot to my shoulder from a well slung rock, but came out of it none the worse for wear. A couple friends of ours, the Weirs a” we had drinks with them in the Railyard district one night when you were out visiting a” were not so lucky. They got caught making a run for water in early January and were killed. It's been hard living enough without idiots being violent, but the way things are now, it's time to leave.

Towards that end, we've been saving up food and other supplies for the extended road trip. Since last spring, we've been drying, pickling and otherwise preserving everything edible we can get our hands on. This has proven trickier than it sounds, as we never had much use for food preservation equipment and so never bought any.

But we've remedied that. I (Nance) have been picking through several old businesses and even some abandoned homes and homes where we know the previous tenants died for a” among other things a” serviceable jars, canning equipment, oven racks and door screens and other well-ventilated flat surfaces for drying food, etc. This may sound completely horribly ghoulish to you, maybe even like we're engaging in the barbarity we're trying to escape. I fundamentally agree, but we're just that desperate to get ourselves ahead of the game and out of town, and they're not using it.

If I may be so bold, Gary has turned into a d.a.m.n fine shot with the bow he acquired the second summer after everything fell apart. So, we've eaten mucho jackrabbit and put up a bit of deer and some p.r.o.nghorn jerky over the last year. It's nasty work, and difficult, getting the game back to the house once he's killed it, then dressing it and making jerky, but so much else has become a filthy toil since, you know. The deer jerky is pretty good, but the p.r.o.nghorn is so tough it tastes almost like a rawhide chew. Good to keep your mouth busy, I suppose.

It won't come as a surprise to you that most of our food preservation is done through drying. We've been putting most of it on the roof, where it's impossible for thugs to see it and steal it. Had to learn the hard way, though. Fortunately, the only thing they got away with was a bunch of ancho chilies. Hard telling if they even knew what they were stealing.

We'd been having trouble deciding what kind of bikes to take. Not bikes, really, but the junk we ought to put on the bikes to make the ride easier on us, what tires would be best suited to the job, etc. We figured fenders were pretty much unnecessary for a ride right now, but since we're still not ready to leave, that might change. We'll ask the courier when we see him next. Racks are simply a necessity, so we've scored a couple rear racks and finally located one to put on the front of my bike. I'm b.u.mmed about not being able to take my carbon frame bike. Gary told me it might be handy for running errands around town, but that I was freaking nuts to think he'd let me ride it fully loaded on a cross country trek. The roads are such a mess right now, and they're never going to get any better, I'm afraid. So, we finally decided to take a couple old school-style rigid steel frame mountain bikes. I'm fitting them out with drop bars and clips to increase our pedaling efficiency. Aluminum or even steel road bikes would have been both lighter and better for body positioning for long rides, but we think there's a trade-off with the wheels. We've had a terrible time trying to find tubes and tires for 700c presta valve based rims. Of course, 26 inch wheels, tubes and tires aren't growing on trees nowadays, but they're still easier to find than road stuff. Also, we think there's a distinct advantage in the durability and load capacity of 26 inch tires. (We really don't want to get stuck out in eastern Colorado or western Kansas with flat tires and at least 70 miles before the nearest place to get them checked out.) And inch and a halfs seem to be the best compromise between load capacity and rolling resistance. So, we've put got 26 x 1.5 inch semislick tires on each bike, with matching tubes, and a backup set of tubes and tires for each bike. With any luck we won't need any of the spares, but not having them is just an open invitation to trouble. We've maxed out the bottle cages on each bike, and Gary'll be strapping a three gallon water cooler to the rear rack of his bike. I'll have the tent packed into one of my pannier bags. We're splitting the food equally between us just for practicality's sake. Each of us will carry our own clothing, and so there won't be much of that. We'll bathe as much as possible and maybe find a way to do laundry once or twice during the trip, but chances are that we'll still be so incredibly ripe by the time we make it to eastern Kansas that you'll probably be able to smell us on the wind a day before we get into North KC. Oh, and we'll be wearing helmets, so rest a.s.sured there. I finally brought Gary around to my way of thinking a” that staying a bit cooler isn't worth getting a brain injury over. Besides, I told him his head would sunburn. (I was half-joking, but he is quite a bit thinner on top since you last saw him.) We both went round and round about this several times, but we've finally mapped out our trip. We estimate the the entire trip is 900 or so miles, maybe 1000 if we have to make serious detours or make sidetrips for more supplies. Our plan is to cover about fifty miles a day, sticking to riding in the early mornings and evenings to avoid as much as possible exerting ourselves in the heat. That's ambitious of us, but I think we can manage it. Here's our projected itinerary. We'll start out from here heading east, then north up I-25. The few couriers we've seen and talked to say the road is still in pretty good shape, which is great news to us. We'll ride I-25 north to Pueblo a” figure it'll take six days or maybe a week to get up there. We antic.i.p.ate this first leg as being the most difficult part of the trip, because a” while we're in decent shape and will be fresh and ready to ride a” our bikes will be most laden with food and water at this point, and we won't have gotten into real road-seasoned shape yet. Also, the hills between here and Pueblo are all pretty freakin' steep. You may think we should just take I-40 east through Texas and Oklahoma and then I-35 up north and northeast a” the way we always used to drive a” but there are a couple main reasons we're not going that way. We've heard Amarillo is now a haven for banditos, there appear to be fewer water sources that way a” at least on our maps a” and Pueblo will be a good pit stop before the next leg. Got a couple of really good friends up there who'll put us up for a night or two a” especially if we bring food! We've heard from the couriers that I-70 is in great shape, but water sources all through eastern Colorado and into western Kansas along that route are pretty slim. So, we think taking highway 50 east out of Pueblo and following the Arkansas river as long as possible is the best bet. We'll do that all the way past Dodge City, where the river turns northeast. We'll keep on east southeast towards Pratt, then into Wichita. This second leg is the longest, but we're hoping that since we're following the river downstream and have the wind at our backs it won't take much longer than the first, maybe eight days. Probably spend a night or two in Wichita, then take I-35 northeast into Kansas City. That'll be a bit hillier, but we figure five or six days, tops. Then we'll knock on your door and hope you have something for us to eat and maybe even a bottle of beer for us to share a” we're going to need it!

We're sending this ahead so you know to expect us a month or two from the time this letter is delivered. We're leaving in just over a month, and figure the letter might take a couple weeks to get to you, at the outside. These couriers are b.a.l.l.s out fast, and they're charging us quite a bit for delivery. (We gave them some p.r.o.nghorn jerky and told them it was deer, so the cost doesn't seem to hurt so bad.) Sorry this was so long. Didn't mean to bore you, just wanted to a.s.sure you that we'd really thought this thing through and had a decent, safe gameplan. We were just remembering the other day when heading over to visit you in Kansas City was a long day's drive. It seemed like such a pain in the a.s.s, then. Well, our a.s.ses are going to be about twenty times more sore after this trip! Wish us luck a” pray for us, even, if you think it'll help a” and we'll see you in October!

Gary and Nance To: Allen Lindsay, Jr., Lawrence, KS From: Virginia Lindsay, Wilsey, KS January 15th, 20+5 Dear Allen, Greetings from home. It's been so long since we've a” I've heard from you. But then, it's been so long since I've written you, too.

We've been lucky this winter. Except for a very brief cold snap at the beginning of the year, it's been so mild here. The wind still howls, and will only get worse in the coming months, of course. But the Halsey boys rode out early December and sealed up the leaks in the house's windows and doors. They even brought me half a cord of wood a” good hedge wood. Should see us a” me through the end of winter, anyway. Mrs. Halsey herself died just a couple months ago, a day or two after Thanksgiving. Flu. I don't know whether the Halsey boys were carrying it, or what it was particularly, but I came down with something nasty a few days after they worked on the house. Terrible sweats and chills. For three days I could scarcely find the strength to feed the fire and keep the stove going. Couldn't even get the lids off any of my canned goods. Wouldn't have done any good, anyway a” couldn't keep anything down but hamhock broth, and barely that. Oh, but I've been through worse. Sitting by the stove, listening to the wind (and being thankful that it was kept outside) and leafing through some old photo alb.u.ms was not a”

Anyway, Barb Halsey. You still remember her, don't you? She lived right in the middle of town, at 4th and Lyndon. The nice limestone house with the wrought iron gate. Taught you and Anne piano lessons. I know you were always a good student, Allen, but I think Anne skipped more than she went. Barb charged all the same, though. Ah, I can't hold that against her, such a minor thing now. She was a nice gal. I think a bit of her husband rubbed off on her, but she was still a basically good person. And her boys. Well, see above. They're both living in the house, now. Karl has a wife and a son and daughter a” chubby little towheads, so ornery a” and I think Marty has a pretty steady girlfriend.

I've been toying with the idea of moving over to Council Grove this spring. Just a few miles. I'm getting to the point where it's a little difficult to make it out to pump water several times a day. It'd just be so nice to have semi-running water again. They've set up or somehow re-fitted the windmills as pumps over there, and the reservoir and lake are still plenty full. Or so I've heard, anyway. Of course, a few of the more imaginative gossips in town (Meg Barnes, particularly) say that Kansas City has gaslights and trolleys now. But since Council Grove is pretty close I'm a bit more p.r.o.ne to believe about the windmills.

Woke up yesterday morning to the sound of the piano. It was the strangest thing. I bundled up and went downstairs and found one of the cats tramping all around the dining room. I'm not happy about them staying inside, but I guess it is winter and there's been coyote and even some cougar sightings. Not surprising, I suppose, what with the huge deer population explosion a couple years ago. I wouldn't want to be stuck outside, either. Of course, the tomcat disappears for days and even weeks on end. Haven't seen him for almost half a month now. It was the mama cat on the piano.

I still remember working in the kitchen and listening to the plinking and plunking coming from the dining room as you practiced. You rarely seemed to get exasperated with it, even though you inherited such short fingers from us. Don't think you ever went the entirety of your prescribed practice sessions, however. Either that, or the timer we used ran mighty fast.

Aside from the illness I had in December, I have been eating quite well. The summer harvest was fine a” plenty of tomatoes, beans and zucchini. The fall harvest, though. Well, I've never really seen the like, even when we had sprays and fertilizers, irrigation, etc. The corn alone took the whole town two weeks of sunup to sundown days to harvest. It's all drying, now a” most of it will get ground up in the spring for meal. What's left will go to hogs and the few cattle around here. Probably the cattle more than anything, as the hogs are pretty happy eating acorns. Vernon Mitch.e.l.l broke a forearm falling out of one of the apple trees a” a nearly-matured seedling a” while harvesting in his orchard and had to get ridden into Council Grove to get patched up by Doc Saw. (I can't say that the apples are all that tasty to eat out of hand, but there are a lot of them, and they make good juice and apple b.u.t.ter.) And, I've been eating on a half a hog since October! Nice as they are, I didn't trust the Halsey boys to slaughter it right. They're carpenters by trade. So, I had Art Muncy and his daughter Lill out to help slaughter, dress and cure it. They really did almost all the work. Art's a... well, kind of a layabout now. Grows marijuana and some not-so-great squash and pumpkins, but he used to work in Emporia at a meatpacking plant and knows his way around a carca.s.s. Never cared for him so much, but Lill's nice. Still cute, too a” sweetest smile a” and unattached. Just saying.

I sent them home with almost half the pig. I know what you'd say to that, but look a” just deal with it. Everyone a” everyone in this town, at least a” gets fed. Half a pig's a lot for one old lady, anyway, especially when you add it to the abundance of everything else. Have you been eating half as well as us?

(And anyway, Art grows superb weed.) I don't know, maybe it's just been so many years a” how many? five or six now? a” since we had such conveniences as pesticides and combines and the rail and satellite TV. I guess there was a lean year after everything went kaput, but we bounced back. We have so much here a” decent food and plenty of it, a roof, a stove, water a” that I can't say that I miss very many things anymore. Maybe just pineapple for upside down cake from time to time, and your father.

Have you heard from Anne lately? Last I knew she was up in Junction City. I really don't know what she's been up to for the past couple years. Going on three now. I mail her from time to time, but I'm not sure the new delivery service really knows what they're doing. They charge so much, too; it cost me two pounds of corn meal and a jar of crabapple jelly for just a 50 mile delivery, for one letter! Well, I guess the riders need it a” they're so skinny. (This is coming from Meg B of course, as the riders only hit the major junctions. But, after riding to and from town on that old Schwinn for these several years a” it's only a half a mile one-way a” I really will take her word for it this time.) If you hear from Anne, let me know please.

You know, I really do enjoy the quiet here, but it got to be a little too much last August and September, so I dug out the old RCA that belonged to your grandfather. Your father never listened to much music a” the radio was always tuned to market and weather reports. But he always had a soft spot for the Beach Boys, so I put them on the player and wound it up good. Endless Summer. The record played back just a little bit slow a” the spring or whatever makes it go is probably losing its shape, and it made Brian Wilson's voice a little huskier than I remember a” but it sounded fine to me.

All in all, though, I prefer piano.

With love, your mother Genny P.S. - Depending on when this arrives a” two weeks, three maybe? a” happy 37th birthday!

To: Gerald and Regina Olliver, Fort Riley, KS From: Donny and Fawn McCutcheon, Arkadelphia, AR August 26th, 20+4 Gerald (and Gina)- We received your letter a week ago today. Hope to hear better news from you soon. How is it possible that there was that big army post doesn't have any docs on it? Why'd it take so d.a.m.n long for the doc to get out to you from Junction City? Is Gina improved any? Is she conscious? Still delirious? Doesn't seem at all fair to be sick like that in summertime.

Glad to hear your sundry supplies are still holding out. This year's drought will be next year's bounty, we're praying for you. We looked at the map, and it shows that the base has a big old reservoir right north of it. Maybe you can make a trip to catch some fish out of it or a spillway when you fetch water, a.s.suming you have someone to keep an eye on Gina while you're out. Again, we're hoping and praying for you that the water will be enough to last you and everyone out there the summer through.

It hasn't been near what you been through, but life here has been up and down.

Firstly, we got ourselves a ghost train. n.o.body's sure how it started moving, but it came click-clacking right by our house into and out of town the week before last. Remember the sound that d.a.m.n thing used to make on the way past? It was a h.e.l.l of a shock to just see it rolling by without warning, almost completely quiet. Then, about a day later, it rolled right back through town and by our house. It made one last pa.s.s that evening and settled right in the middle of the bridge going over the Ouachita. Most folks think some kids must have found it and released the brakes on it as a prank, but Gina's uncle Harold, who used to work for Amtrak before he got busted for moons.h.i.+ning oh so long ago, says that the brakes' reservoirs depleted and then gravity took over and carried it downhill. A whole bunch of people clambered on top of it after it stopped and tried to scavenge food out of the dining car, but the folks who got stuck on the train must have raided it all before they ditched it. All the folks found the other day was wild yardbird nests.

You should see the flocks. Dozens, sometimes hundreds of them just covering hillsides. Scrawnier, more mean-spirited birds you have never laid eyes on. Course, it doesn't prevent foxes and bobcats from culling them a bit. Some folks, Fawn included, swear they've seen mountain lions loping through the thickets after them, too. Guess it's not outside the realm of possibility, but it seems a bit more work for a cougar to chase down a bony little feral chicken than a rangy but bigger, dumber, slower and meatier ranch cow back in the Texahoma or Kanorado areas.

Mad Tyson hens, most people call them. Heard a rumor that it was originally a small-time farmer what set a few flocks loose to feed on their own since there was no grain to be purchased. Of course, that puts the onus on a local boy and doesn't have nearly the same ring to it as does saying that Tyson cut the birds loose when it was obvious they were going out of business, just to spite everyone.

Speaking of the poultry operations around here, you can't even get within a quarter mile of the old processing plants without gagging on the odor. Once the power shut down, all them dead birds just sat there. Well, we heard they tried to get them into those big warehouse-sized freezers, in the dark, and maybe they did that. But those freezers only stay cold for so long without air conditioners pus.h.i.+ng frigid air into them. An easy way to spot where a processing plant is/was is to look around for buzzards. They're thick as flies around those plants, just can't find a way to get inside. It'd be better for someone to actually let them in and clean the d.a.m.n places out, but you can't find someone dumb or crazy enough to go near one, and n.o.body knows whether the buzzards would even touch that stuff at this point.

The few birds we started keeping the other year have been well, and we've been able to keep the predators off them. Fawn has almost mastered the art of pickling eggs. Almost. When we cracked open the last batch to eat them, the sulfur smell almost made me run to the nearest processing plant to relieve my nose. We slept out on the porch that night, for certain. That batch got pitched out pretty d.a.m.n quick, but the rest have been good. Can't say I particularly care for the texture of the things, kind of like eating rubber erasers soaked in vinegar. But mash them up and add some hot mustard powder a” we get it from Greenville, MS a” and some bacon grease or oil and some chopped up dill pickles and they make a mean egg salad for sandwiches (when Fawn makes wheat bread). We'll eat the birds when they stop laying... and sometimes even if they haven't stopped. Roast them in the oven and eat them with cornbread.

I bartered a young nanny off one of our neighbors earlier this year. Evan McGroot a” when Gina comes to her senses, tell her that. Bet she'll laugh a” she know's Ev's history with goats. But I got this nan early spring for a half a jar of pickled eggs. Just half a jar! Well, I ought to have picked up on that as the first indication that something wasn't quite all even up with that animal. I brought it home and let it roam around the back half-acre. We're pretty well fenced in a” anything that can get through that fence is probably small enough to have trouble with a spiteful, full-grown nanny goat. So I let it roam, eat what it wanted, which was everything I didn't want it to eat. Rope, bark off the apple trees we planted from seedlings a couple years prior, and probably every other d.a.m.n thing that wasn't any good for it. Well, I'd originally got it to milk it and maybe make a little cheese (or have Fawn do it). That goat ate so d.a.m.n well it should have been producing at least a pint a day. Never got even a cup of milk, not one ounce. Finally I got so fed up we just slaughtered the d.a.m.n thing and roasted it on a spit, had a little party and invited everyone around. We invited Ev, but he never showed.

We're going to get a pig next year.

Sorry. Probably not real nice of me to go on about food right now, especially to you.

Things elsewhere in the state are about the same as last year, so we've heard. Little Rock has probably seen better days, but we don't know firsthand as we've never had need to go up there. Heard there was a bad fever outbreak up there in early February. Fawn and I have made a few trips up to Hot Springs, try to go at least once every couple months. We bathe regularly down at home, but Hot Springs is a special surprise I like to spring on Fawn. It's never busy as it used to be, but still gets plenty of visitors. So much nicer to sit in a hot bath without having to make a fire for it first.

Take care of Gina best you can, Gerald. We're happy she has a man like you around. Again, hope to hear better new from you soon. Write quick as you can.

All the best.

Don (and Fawn) P.S. - I'm writing this on a separate sheet of paper for a reason, Gerald. I want you to know that Tess a” Gina's mom you know a” died just a couple months ago. She caught the pox or fever or whatever it is that's wrecking Little Rock. Fawn and I supposed that it's better that, when Gina recovers and is well enough to read our letter to you both, it might be better to not include that information right away. If you feel differently, go ahead and give her this note, too. Otherwise, maybe it finds its way into a fire or a creek. Again, we're praying for Gina and you. Stay well. -D.

To: Thom Whitesall, Broadview Hotel, Wichita, KS From: d.i.c.k Wesley, Hotel Fort Des Moines, Des Moines, IA May 4th, 20+4 Tommy- Greetings from the Hotel Fort Des Moines.

I was thinking about you the other day. I really appreciated your support when I was working through my Hotel Management program and thought maybe I could return the favor with an idea. I can honestly say, though, that that program never really prepared me a” or probably you, for that matter a” for what happened the other year.

The year after the lights went off, we had a couple riots here in town: the big one at the capitol and a way smaller one a month or so prior. It wasn't even remotely a surprise. No electricity, no gasoline. It was a wonder to me that thousands more didn't die that winter. Well, of course, once the weather got hot in June, people started getting really p.i.s.sed off and it wasn't too long before they stormed the steps. I don't know what they expected to accomplish. Frustration's understandable. n.o.body could plant corn or soybeans a” en ma.s.se, anyway. Couldn't water them even if you did plant them. You couldn't get around without having to walk or ride a bike or, if you were really lucky, ride a horse. Couldn't take a s.h.i.+t inside because the plumbing didn't work. Couldn't eat enough to make you have to s.h.i.+t, anyway. Not like the state folks hadn't tried everything they could. What little news we got from DC, Minneapolis and elsewhere indicated that it wasn't just a Des Moines or an Iowa problem, but that it was everywhere. Now how is the state government going to fix things that the eggheads the feds have at their disposal can't even figure out?

Sorry, I just get irked about it. Frustrated at the frustration, even though I never was a real patient person. I guess I was more than a little peeved about life in general that summer, too. Since none of the guests could effectively leave town once everything stopped working, we turned into a kind of halfway house for them. I guess some did leave, and I hope they got where they were going. But most stayed at the hotel. Yeah, non-paying guests staying in your hotel while you can't really pay your workers. It was stressful, although quite a few of the guests are now pretty much working tenants. (Also, I can say that I'm glad the previous management never removed the fireplace out of the lobby. It's saved dozens of lives these last few years.) Well, so a couple hundred people stormed the capitol mid-day. It was the third week of June. June 18th, a Tuesday. And there was no one there to stop them. A couple weeks prior a smaller mob had taken over a Wal-Mart, carted off basically everything they could get away with and beaten the lone security guard there to within an inch of his life. So, there was a feeling that worse things were on the way. But the Guard, the Highway Patrol, sherriffs and police had no way to communicate with each other, no way to get around other than the options everyone else had. They didn't even have any bullets to fire had they known to be there AND been there when things got really out of hand at the capitol. And they did. A couple dozen congresspeople got pretty much hacked to pieces, ten raped beforehand, and then the idiots gutted the capitol building with fire. Twenty more died in the blaze.

Meanwhile, the mob just dissipated. n.o.body tried to stop them. n.o.body ever got called on it or brought to justice.

The Des Moines Disgrace.

The only fortunate thing about the whole mess was that the capitol building is pretty well isolated from other buildings nearby and so the fire didn't spread. The entire city could have gone up, what with no functional fire department. What was left of the government scrambled to get a hold of themselves, and reconvened outside City Hall a week later. By that time most everybody else had gotten completely fed up and there were almost three thousand people there. State, city and county law enforcement finally got somewhat organized and showed up, too, even though half of them were out of uniform. I was there, and the whole scene was hair-raising to me. The Congress took roll call, and called out each missing member twice. Once the roll had been taken, they got down to business. They met for all of thirty minutes, then dissolved. n.o.body really knew what was going on until the congresspeople started filtering into the crowd. Groups formed up around them, just pretty naturally. Everyone listened to what each member had to say. I wasn't there, but it all filtered down to me quick enough. The gist was that folks were told that the lights weren't coming back on, the sugar water wouldn't turn itself back into gasoline or diesel, the Wal-Marts weren't going to fill up again with cheap food and clothing, and that this sucked but, regardless, the outcome of the situation was ultimately up to them. Some folks thought they were being patronized and so they left, but the majority stuck around and started talking about how to improve things.

s.h.i.+t, I've already rambled on too long about this. Here's the upshot. Folks got organized and started working instead of b.i.t.c.hing. All our park s.p.a.ce downtown and all along the river, for that matter, is now a community farm and orchard. The first year it was corn and soybeans, because that's all anyone really had seed for. But vegetable seeds made it around the next year, so the locals actually started raising something halfway tasty to eat.

We've gotten in on the act. There's a huge pool here at the hotel, but after the power went out we drained it as best we could to keep the whole thing from stagnating. Well I'd like to say that this was my idea, but the Emba.s.sy Suites thought of it first and we copped it from them. Anyway, the fire department set us up with a couple manual pumps. We seined what seemed like a few thousand hatchlings out of the river, pumped some fresh water into the pool and dumped them in, and started feeding them surplus corn. So we raise catfish. Channel cat. They seem to do best given the size limitations of the pool. I'd ask if you've ever eaten it, but you grew up in Missouri, so you had to have, right? I was never really a big fan of it a” muddy tasting a” but now it's on my dinner table at least twice a week. So, I've gotten pretty used to it. We use what we don't eat to barter for firewood, filtered water, veggies, etc. Don't know how things are down in Wichita, but I thought you might like to know that this is being done and maybe give it a shot.

It's difficult work, and the whole place can get pretty d.a.m.ned smelly. Fortunately, the pool area doors seal well. The main thing, aside from feeding and harvesting the fish, is keeping the pumps active to get the waste out and fresh water in. It's a pain, and it's dirty. But it's a job everyone does every now and then. Even me. I'm just thankful that the tenants are pitching in.