Folks,
I am going to leave you with one more thought. This is a true story and it happened to me, or rather I witnessed it. I appreciate the very good questions and intelligent responses to my post, and although we may disagree, the civility is in keeping with the very best of NES.
Back in 1956, my father, who had been stationed in California in WWII, decided that we were going to move west. My parents sold off all of theirr furniture, donated clothes to the Salvation Army and as an 8 year old with a three year old sister embarked on the Great Western Migration in a 1956 Plymouth Station Wagon with a homemade trailer attached. Remember that this was a trek from Eastern Ohio to the West Coast before the advent of the Interstate Highway System. Armed with a "Campground Guide" and a Hi Standard Sentinal .22 Revolver, my dad quit his job and had no real prospect of employment. My mother said later (who was never enthusiastic about the trip) said our merry little band reminded her of the Joads in "The Grapes of Wrath," My dad wasn't too worried about getting a job, he had learned the welding trade before the war, and he also had his teaching degree. In the 1950's anyone with a teaching certificate could get a job because of the Baby Boom and schools were overflowing. We camped out every night except maybe for two nights. Our trip lasted six weeks and covered six thousand miles, meandering here and there in the pre-Interstate West where amenities were sometimes hard to find.
We were in some very arid desert like country, I'm not sure what state now, maybe Utah. Anyway we ran low on water, and we were miles from any town. The trusty Plymouth was heating up, my sister was thirsty and started crying, and we were, in truth all pretty miserable. There was an old coot by the side of the road who was selling brown brackish what I call desert water for 50 cents a gallon. Now back then, 50 cents was a lot of money and there were plenty of people who had hourly wage jobs less than 50 cents an hour. The coot had set up his water business at the bottom of a large hill, and in all likelihood the Plymouth would overheat before it reached the top.
My Dad got out of the car and he was incredulous. He told the guy, I've got a wife two thirsty kids and an overheating car, you are committing robbery with your prices. The coot looked at him and said "I have and you need it, it's fifty cents a gallon." I'll never forget this. We were on a tight budget, but my Dad reluctantly paid the money for several gallons back when a dollar was really a dollar.
Now over the years, I have reflected, what if he didn't have the money?
Picture a time, when somebody has something you need but won't share it, or sell it or even barter for it. Derek, you have a family, your neighbor has a family and also a food supply, your family is starving, and the area is hunted out. What do you do? How far would you go to insure your family's survival? Now some people would say: "Oh that's different, because it is for the guy's family." But what about a guy like me who doesn't have a family (except for steps in NY and WV) and who in all probability likely won't have a spouse when and if ever the SHTF (I won't get into the details as to why except my wife is older than even me, and actuarial tables don't lie).
So there you have it: "I have it and you need it and I am not going to give it to you." So what do you do, and more importantly what do you folks who have families do? Your kids are starving and the neighbor's kids are thriving on surplus MRE's? Again, many of you will say that it's different because it is about your family, but not really, my life while totally expendable is important to me while I'm living it.