I read JH Kunstler's article in Rolling Stone in the waiting room of my OB's office while waiting for a prenatal appointment in 2005. I had already read his previous two books about how soulless and unsustainable the suburbs are.
So I read the article and talked to my friends about it. Most of them had read it or heard about it: it was party conversation material in young-hip-blogsavvy-NewYorkers social circles for a while, although the main reaction was usually, don't worry, we'll enviro-finesse our way out of it, have you heard about the latest hybrid design? I hear methane hydrates are going to totally replace gas, etc, etc.
Eventually I bought the whole book, The Long Emergency. My husband read it first, and then read passages out loud to me while I was in labor. Sounds ridiculous, but it was really calming. Maybe because it was so obviously not a hoax, it was concrete, detailed information about the end of our way of life. Really took my mind off the contractions.
And yes, my first reaction wasn't to run out and by tinned spam and a rifle. Mostly, I was pretty distracted for a while by taking care of my son, who was colicky and a terrible sleeper. My husband and I just tried to enjoy living in the city as much as possible: we went out to restaurants we had never been too, went to see plays, had friends over.
I did look into the idea of buying land, but realized there was no way we could afford it at current prices, and so paid off my student loans instead. I've done a lot of thinking. I don't want to live off in the woods on my own, and, having already tried the intentional community adventure/disaster previously, I'm under no illusions that people can choose the perfect group of friends and move to a lifeboat community and live happily ever after.
We moved to an apartment with a backyard so we could have some space to grow a few vegetables, but we're basically planning on staying in the city. No-one knows how this is going to play out, and honestly, I'd rather weather out a crisis with my friends and neighbors than isolate myself out in the country... If we have to, we'll make our way back out to my husband's parent's house, they have a little bit of land and are in walking distance to a small town.
A few of our friends and us have a running joke about TLE (our nifty little acronym for The Long Emergency). Anytime we try to make plans, like go to the movies, or meet up at a restaurant, one of us will inevitably say, "Sure, I'll meet you at 7:30. If TLE doesn't come first, of course. In that case I'll be too busy learning how to make my own saddles." Or "shear my own sheep" or "grow my own barley and brew it into beer".
