MY STORY: PREPPER, SURVIVALIST, SURVIVOR
What and Where Am I? Growing Up Prepper
In general, I fall into the survivalist/prepper crossover category but, growing up, my family was more prepper than survivalist. My parents grew up dirt-poor during the Great Depression. They both knew what it was like to be hungry and sometimes without a permanent place to live. My paternal grandparents were farmers and taught my dad well in the ways of their Native American roots. My dad was a veteran of WWII, European theater, as well as a master gardener. He raised chickens, had a pack of hunting dogs, was an expert fisherman, and was known for his prolific deer-slaying skills. He would do whatever it took to feed his family, whether within or outside the law; so much so that I had no idea meat, poultry, vegetables, and locally available fruits like apples, huckleberries, blackberries, wild strawberries, and pears, dandelion greens, puffball mushrooms, and other wild edibles could come from anywhere but the woods, the water, and our 200+ acre hunting land. Milk came from the local dairy farm via our milkman, and ice cream from....Loblaws😁 We grew up eating freshwater fish, venison, squirrel, rabbit, and homegrown chicken, as well as vegetables fresh from the garden and fruit gathered, canned, or frozen. The massive chest freezer on our side porch (the porch was built around the freezer) was always fully stocked.
My mom knew how to work the garden but, even better, she knew how to make her children work it. Everything we grew was eaten fresh, canned, or frozen. Under her tutelage, we learned to pluck chickens, butcher squirrels and rabbits, can meat, fruit and vegetables, and bake everything from scratch. There was never a time when we had less than a year's supply of food for our family of five. Between the huge freezer and the many shelves in our cellar pantry, there wasn't much need to visit Loblaws. My mom was a great cook and baker, and she did her best to pass her knowledge on to her daughters. Meanwhile, my brother traipsed behind my dad on the hunting land. I was also tracking deer and shooting squirrels and rabbits at a young age, mostly because I followed my older brother like his shadow, and we all were expected to go fishing every season of the year. Ice fishing was never my favorite but tip-ups made it tolerable as I could watch them from beside a campfire on the shore. Of course, if we caught it, we had to scale it, filet it, and either cook it or freeze it.
Our hunting land was both a workspace and a recreation heaven. With a small one room bunkhouse-type cabin with an attached woodshed and "in-house" outhouse, it was a place where many of my fondest memories were made. The big woodstove was always blazing when we were there in the winter, and a whole back wall of windows provided a cooling breeze in the summer. As a young child I used to push-broom the concrete floor, much to my mother's dismay. The amount of dust I could raise was astonishing! Tromping around in the woods and fields was our major source of both entertainment and hunting material, and the gas pipeline that ran down one side of the mountain was the perfect place to toboggan. With apple trees in the front yard, and all kinds of berry bushes along the pipeline, there was never time to be bored. If we wanted to eat, we had to contribute and we did.
On To A Survivalist Adulthood
As a young adult, I married and had a daughter. Divorce quickly followed, but I didn't quit living and learning. I became an avid backpacker, hiking all over the Adirondacks as well as into various locations in the Poconos and Pennsylvania. I learned exactly what I needed to survive in the woods, how to navigate with a compass and topographic map, make shelter, cook over a campfire, and source wild edibles along the way. As I progressed, I became an expert on how to live comfortably in the wild. I went on to backpack for the next 30 years and, like my mother, I grew and harvested a huge garden.
Also, in my 30s I remarried and became aware of government overreach when the Brady Bill was written. I bought my first computer and joined some chat boards. We discussed gun rights and the coming fight for freedom. In the interim I finished my college degree and changed careers. My husband and I joined a local militia and spent many weekends practicing survival skills. We set up an underground storage container, calling it the Yellow Submarine, filling it with food and ammo. We also cached a number of supplies on my family's hunting land. Years later, I found that my hand-drawn maps and compass coordinates weren't all that helpful in re-locating those caches. I was very outspoken and ended up being interviewed by the local TV news. Those were the days when speaking your mind didn't bring the FBI to your door! We also built race engines and I learned to do a lot of the work.
Fast forward a few years, and one divorce later, I moved into my dad's hunting cabin. With no electricity or running water, it was hard, constant work, but also the least stressful time of my life. About 18 months later, I moved back to civilization and was enchanted by electric lights and running water!
I became involved with a national survivalist network. Disagreements about the direction of the network resulted in a split, with one group pursuing political goals, and my group becoming the more militaristic of the two. In the process I fell in love, and ended up moving South. New groups to network with, more friends, and more skills learned...it was a great life. Constant training, campouts, and sharing of plans and ideas ensued. We had a great group, a very professional website (I learned Linux), and participated in a weekly radio broadcast about survivalism. We accumulated gear and supplies at an astounding rate. Life was perfect.
Eventually, the love affair died, but my love of survivalism burned on with a passion. I formed my own group, created my own website (that I still maintain as well as others for a friend in my network), and attracted hundreds of followers. I continued to network with friends who had their own survival group. It was an experience I wouldn't trade for the world! At that time I was perhaps the best-known female survivalist in the US, and was teaching and advising all manner of new survivalists.
Life Marches On
Life marches on, along with the years, and I moved on further south and on to a new career. My involvement with friendly networks continued, but the pace slowed as the demands of my job increased. I bought a house in a semi-rural subdivision, and proceeded to attempt to fix it up and grew a small garden. Then, another love affair and another marriage to a man for whom survivalism was a foreign concept, and my active participation in outside groups all but disappeared. I still network with old friends across the country, but my life is consumed with the husband and a much larger garden. Canning has become my new "old" activity.
All in all life has been, and continues to be, good. Two back surgeries and many years later, I am no longer out tromping through the woods every weekend, but could still do a fair job of it if I decided to. I still maintain my firearms, and still shoot straight. I've become more of a prepper and keep a large stock of food and materials that continues to grow in size and scope, but in my heart I'm still a survivalist. We have 2 generators, one large enough to power almost all of our house and another big enough to maintain the fridge and freezer, a small solar system, a wood-burning fireplace plus two propane heaters, and a well that can provide potable water. I discovered container gardening as a way to avoid endless weeding, and it's been quite successful. I don't grow enough for an army, but I grow enough for us. I still make my own soap and stay up-to-snuff on the operation of my sewing machine.
The house got remodeled, thanks to my multi-talented husband, and after we had both retired, we purchased a smallish motorhome with a living area, kitchen, bathroom, and bedroom. It has been set up to be our alternate shelter and BOV (should we need one), and contains a gun safe and a supply of freeze-dried food as well as assorted canned goods. We keep our fuel topped off and stabilized, and between the motorhome and our vehicles, we have close to 100 gallons.
Getting older is inevitable; being prepared is forever. I am a survivor, and we will survive 2021 and hopefully a lot longer. Will you?