How I survived the Y2K disaster

In 1999, was I the only kid who had a bathroom filled with 430 pounds of dried beans and powdered milk? Did any one else have a flour grinder in their laundry room? Or was it just me?

Unless you are 12 years old, you probably remember that little thing called the New Millennium, or Y2K. If you are a pre-teen reading my blog, I'll give you a history lesson. Y2K stood for the year 2000, and it basically freaked the jelly beans out of at least half the American population, because they thought that computers would stop running and our whole life would collapse.

You'd wake up on January 1st, 2000, ready to heat some Pop Tarts, except your toaster would be broken since it ran off of computer chips that did not recognize the year 2000. Or maybe you'd be shopping at Target, go to leave (after paying in cash only because the card readers would be non-functional), and find out the automatic doors had locked you in. Because they'd be thinking its 1900, not the year 2000, and in 1900 they did not have automatic doors, so they'd stay shut until you manually opened them. But you would probably be stuck in Target for at least five hours until help came. I can think of worse places to be trapped in.

My family didn't have to worry about food production plants going beserk and shutting down and us starving, because my mother fully prepared for the worst case scenario. In June of 1999, my mom started stock piling. This meant buying in bulk from a local co-op, which was founded on the belief that people would turn into savages as soon as 2000 hit and computer chips stopped working. My mom bought dried beans, wheat, a flour grinder, dried fruit, and more emergency supplies than the states in the tornado belt have combined. We stored a large portion of it in the second bathroom. What, your loo doesn't also double as a pantry?

I had just started going to public school that year, which basically means I started feeling embarrassed around mothers wearing denim jumpers. My new worldly friends were very intrigued with my family's stockpile. They'd come back from the bathroom asking about the tower of 25 white buckets that were taking up space in the corner opposite the sink.

"Oh, that's just our five year supply of food and supplies in case the world goes to shambles this coming January."

About half my friends had no idea that civilization would end at the beginning of the new year. Their families continued buying microwaveable dinners and frozen waffles instead of purchasing wheat and firewood for a non-electric stove. I could basically picture it. In January of 2000, I'd be sitting at home in a living room lit by kerosene lamps, while they'd be sitting at home in the dark. I'd be eating hot oatmeal which was cooked over the wood stove, while they'd be at home going hungry because their fridge and appliances stopped working. I was very concerned for their well being. I mean, at the very least their mom should go buy some canned peaches or something.

When December 31st, 1999 came, my family was prepared. We had the bathtub filled up with water. We had candles. We had firewood. We had learned how to grind flour. Despite the fact that I spent the evening with my parents in the living room watching the ball drop, it was very exciting. I was secretly hoping that there would be a disaster. Because then when I was forty or whatever, I could tell the kids "I lived through the Y2K disaster (shudder). Let me tell you about it..." Or maybe I could write a book about how my family survived the new millennium and helped save desperate people who were not well prepared.

You can imagine my disappointment at 12:01am on January 1st, 2000 when the toaster still worked. It only took about three days for me to realize the world was going to be fine. That, and I'd be eating beans and powdered milk for dinner every night through my high school years.