Molly and Idella Were Right, by Jesse Hubner

From SLL contributor Jesse Hubner:

Molly and Idella, both widows in their nineties, live quiet, quaint, almost secretive lives here on the Dakota plains.   I am privileged to be their neighbor.    Their aged but timeless two-story farmhouses and their manicured lawns look iconically the same today as they did twenty years ago.   Their lives, save for the maturity of their families and the dwindling existence of their peers, look pretty much the same as well.   Nearly every time I drive by their yards, which is often, I shake my head…………at myself.

For the better part of two decades now I’ve dedicated a lion’s share of my time preparing for nothing.   The storable food sold to me by fear salesmen X that sits idle in the basement is almost outdated.  My precious metals investments I expertly bought for inflation can’t keep up with the price of a used set of tires.   The thousands of hours I’ve spent uprooting all the lies and assembling the various puzzles of truth have become my disease.   A disease that nearly everyone I deal with day to day is blissfully ignorant of.   In all this insanity, literal insanity, the only morsel of digested nutrition my quest has provided is that my family and I avoided the bioweapon shots.   But on the same token, so did the Amish, and they accomplished this simply with common sense, not the two decades of research I invested.

And the podcasts…… good lord the podcasts.   Hundreds upon hundreds of spent hours listening to expert after expert lay out his or her map of predictions and not one………not one has been right!    I have to ask myself, is what I’m engaged in doing based on wisdom or simply based on fear?  The office chair behind my computer where I’ve spent this alternate reality as truther, prepper, fool, is literally wore out.  As am I.

As I’ve so religiously spent the last two decades forfeiting a life in a quite nonhazardous present for endless near deaths in a tumultuous and chaotic predicted fantasy future I look over the fence at Molly and Idella.  They have spent the last two decades happily ignorant of 99% of my much esteemed wares.   The lies, the agendas, the shortages, war, fear and panic…… none of it made it past their mailboxes let alone into their lives.   They still do now what they did then.   They drink their morning coffee.  They get their mail.  They work in the garden, feed the cats, fix but a bite for lunch.  They read, watch, and listen to things of interest not because they matter or don’t matter, but because doing it matters.   They have been fearlessly alive these last two decades knowing that soon enough the sand in the hourglass will be gone, as will they.  Perhaps they will go peacefully in the night, or perhaps it’s a dystopian nightmare in a care center surrounded by listless forgotten souls begging not for pasta in a MRE but imminent death by any means.  They know they can’t be sure which it will be, so they just live instead.   I in turn, have been all but dead in dread these last two decades, having drained a beachful of sand in earnest wait for the future where I can attempt to live prosperously.   And it’s not here yet. 

In all my acquired knowledge and preparation, how did I miss simply looking over the fence to see how these wise, weathered old elders were dealing with it all?   As children born in the midst of the great depression, why wouldn’t I pattern my life more similar to a survivor of the past, rather than to the false prophets of the future?   I still see a dystopic reckoning in our path, someday, and I hate surprises that leave me flatfooted and speechless.  I’d like to think there is at least some value gained in having a wore-out office chair.  But as they say in the fiat worship world, “markets can stay irrational longer than you can stay solvent.”  I guess in other words, life can stay good……. longer than you can live.