Cleaning kitchens, cleaning critters ...

Life goes on

A woke just before 6 A.M., December 31, 1999, and dressed in jeans and old sweatshirt. While making a pot of coffee, I glanced out the kitchen window and caught a flash of headlights through the trees. A group of goose hunters were arriving for an early morning hunt on our marsh.

Stepping out onto the front porch, I estimated the temperature as I hollered a welcome and asked if they needed anything out of the barn. They responded with a pleasant greeting and indicated they had everything they needed, as they wrestled on their hip boots with the aid of a small flashlight. I wished them good luck and returned to the kitchen for a large cup of coffee, and then down to the basement office to take care of some business.

My husband and I have been retired since 1993, but not being satisfied to sit around he still dealt in buying and selling occasional truckloads of seconds and overrun merchandise, and I enjoyed selling things on the online auctions over the internet. Eighteen of my auctions had closed the previous night, so I spent about an hour entering the final bids in a database and sending out notification emails. These auctions have proved to be extremely profitable and have been a wonderful way to clean up our closets without having a garage sale, which wouldn't draw much of a crowd anyway since we live so far out in the country. I found this morning's group of final bids very pleasing, shut down the computer and went back to the bedroom for some warmer socks and long underwear. My husband was dressing to join the goose hunters at the blind to help break ice and do some calling for them. (He is an expert duck and goose caller.)

I put on a knitted wool hat I had made, a warm coat, a pair of hip boots and waterproof gloves and went out to open the chicken house which kept I my layers safe during the night. They never lay many eggs this time of year, but enough that we didn't have to buy any.

Down at the barn, I fired up our ATV, attached a small wagon and loaded my trapping box. The air was crisp as I headed down the path to where my trapline started.

Last September I took a short course in trapping and became fascinated with it. I read everything I could find on the subject, plus directions and recipes for tanning. Some friends had loaned me some traps they didn't use anymore, and I had purchased several others. I had the perfect place to practice; our property was loaded with just about every kind of critter imaginable.

This particular morning I was checking a line of conibear traps set for beaver and muskrat. The first five sets were empty. I broke the ice around three of them and straightened another that had been knocked over. I climbed carefully down a steep bank, not wanting to slip on the grass that was thick with frost, and found the rest of the larger traps had not been disturbed. I was half disappointed and half relieved. My hands were still sore from skinning a 40-pound beaver caught the day before, and tonight we were expecting company to help celebrate the coming of the new year. I really needed to spend the day cleaning house instead of critters.

Back at the house I changed into lighter clothing, threw in a load of wash and began cleaning the kitchen. I wanted to have the housework done before midnight, should Y2K cause power outage. We had stocked up a little more than usual on food and wood for the stove, but we have always kept months' worth of supplies on hand since moving to the country, so that part wasn't much different than normal. In just about every storage place through the house I had placed jugs of water for drinking. Our lake (a deep, mile-long strip pit) just out the back door would provide plenty of water for cleaning, flushing toilets and watering animals. It could also serve as a cooler or freezer, depending on the temperature, for any perishable items.

As I listened to the television and radio reports on conditions around the world, it became apparent by late afternoon that nothing of significance was going to happen in the way of panics or power outages. I continued with my housework still wondering what it would be like living without electricity in a home that was built around that wonderful convenience.

That evening our guests arrived and we spent the hours before midnight chatting and enjoying cold beer and holiday foods. The televised reports of celebrations in the big cities were spectacular. I can't remember seeing such extravagance on any past occasion.

As the clock struck midnight, the candles on the window sill turned into lovely decorations, instead of the only source of light. The wood stove became a soothing comfort instead of the only source of heat, and the "emergency" quickly drained from the jugs of water.

The year 2000 had painlessly arrived. I knew at that moment it was going to be a great one.

"Bottom line: If it turns out I was wrong about Y2K, an awful lot of smart, serious, responsible people were wrong with me."

(Ed Yourdon, after noting how many Fortune 500 companies, plus the federal and state governments, had built Y2K bunkers; plus the other expenditures, plus statements from such federal agencies as the CIA, FBI, etc.)

"All three of the systems failed following the Y2K rollover and could not be used," said John Koskinen, President Clinton's top Y2K adviser. "The systems simply stopped and became unusable." (Referring to three computers that had been replaced, but were left running just to see what would happen.)

LINDA M. EVERHART BLAIRSTOWN, MISSOURI [e-mail]