I can remember learning the multiplication tables as a kid. I liked the clear sequence of numbers, their calm, orderly pattern. I also liked the certainty they afforded ”“ two times two was always four; there was no room for haggling.
The tables, we were told, were an essential part of life, a way to shore up young minds.
Many years later, however, my 9-year-old niece set me straight. The multiplication tables, she advised, were obsolete. Why bother to learn them when you could use a calculator instead?
“Yes,” I countered, “but what happens when the batteries die?”
“You borrow a friend’s calculator,” she replied.
So much for the preparation of young minds. Preparedness is not what it used to be.
Like many people, I’ve long had an emergency pack in the trunk of my car. It contains the usual supplies ”“ flashlight, first aid kit, booster cables, plus an assortment of winter driving aids.
I also keep some emergency food on hand ”“ vacuum-packed snacks that would be fresh when, say, a flat tire might pre-empt a legitimate meal. And I have the requisite change of clothes for the emergency that lasts longer than one wants to contemplate.
In a word, I’m generally prepared.
Over time, I’ve also been lucky. No real emergency has ever come up, thus leaving most of the supplies idle and unopened.
So when I traded in my ten-year-old car earlier this year, I was surprised to survey the contents of my trunk. There were multiples of everything ”“ four ice scrapers, three flashlights, two first aid kits. On first glance, one might assume that I thought more was better. I don’t. Truth is, I’d toss these items into the trunk, having forgotten their predecessors.
If I seemed over-prepared, it was just a façade. Forgetfulness wears many masks. Meanwhile, the spare clothes smelled of oil, rubber, and gas ”“ fine for a service station, less so for a human.
The sorry state of my decade-old supplies got me thinking. What would I transfer to the trunk of my new car, and what would I delete altogether?
The question recalled news stories one hears about day hikers lost in the woods. In place of emergency gear, some carry only cell phones. I wondered how many drivers might do the equivalent ”“ dispense with their car emergency kits, in favor of this digital panacea.
Then I thought back to my niece and the multiplication tables, and the veneer of comfort that her calculator had fostered. Not that a cell phone wouldn’t be useful in an emergency; but the ability to think through a problem, or shovel one’s way out of a snowbank, might be more so.
”“ Joan Silverman is a writer in Kennebunk. This article appeared earlier in The Toledo Blade.
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