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These wheeled structures are carrying 3 solar panels connected to 4 seriously sturdy batteries, an inverter, and some other stuff to create power for 40 people, nonstop, for 10 days. It could go longer, no problem, but eventually you want a shower. Bravo to Sam, Lohr, and that friendly red truck, Tuff Cherry, for making it all possible.

It’s not often that I find fiction interesting. When I do pick up a novel, my hopes are that it won’t drag on making me glance at the pile for the next book on my list, which is much more likely to be a non-fiction account of something interesting. I won’t go into my full rant about non-fiction vs. fiction, but it is unusual for me to dwell on a novel and its characters for a while after reading it. That’s what makes Blindness, by Jose Saramago, so different.

Set in an unidentified city, with unnamed characters, and with what would otherwise be an annoying lack of grammar or identification of the speaker in dialogue; the book examines what would happen if an unexplained, very contagious outbreak of blindness broke out across an entire population. Described by those afflicted as a “milky sea”, they are at the mercy of those who can still see, and the quick-spreading epidemic doesn’t inspire charity. This is made all the more interesting to me since my last position dealt extensively with vision – one of the few medical complaints that has as much subjective data to it as objective. Everything we do uses information from sight – especially interaction from other humans.

If such an epidemic really happened, would society survive? We treat blindness in its current forms as a disability, but expect that those with it can lead pretty normal lives, with jobs, relationships, and often a decent ability to live on their own. But if everyone was blind, would this still be the case?

More importantly, in the face of a major crisis, how do those who are determined to keep their humanity and compassion do that against those who would take advantage of each other, with no witnesses so to speak. The results leave me spooked, and yet the book feels completely realistic – some characters are prepared to change their lives to deal with a new and urgent need to depend on others and provide for others in turn even when dignity fails.  And at the other end, horrible, horrible acts are committed when people know they’re not being watched – literally, not seen, not identified and therefore it is almost impossible for these characters to feel guilt.

I also chose to read this book just before embarking on a long road trip/vacation that I think applies. Except for the first time I took this trip, I have been fortunate to be almost completely surrounded by people who express humanity to the fullest: super welcoming, eager to give new people warmth and laughter, work hard together, and solving problems for the good of the group in times of crisis. But this is by far not the norm in any society, and the fragility of group governance is all too obvious if you look around wherever resources are scarce. I am looking forward to the trip, and the confirmation it provides that I can identify and learn from those people who see crisis as a time to improve things, in an environment that doesn’t have any natural consequences for those who choose to instead screw their neighbors.

I should point out that Blindness did win the 1998 Nobel prize for Literature, which is an indication of greatness – and that I loved Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, not that the books are similiar, though both examine humanity in crisis. Both are definitely recommended reading, even if you also prefer non-fiction.

There’s a tradition in my family. One that depending on one’s age, or experience of the past year, each member either dreads or looks forward to. When a birthday rolls around, the family member being celebrated gets to pick a dessert they’d like for their birthday “cake”. However, they get NO say in what the cake looks like.

This is an important distinction, because ever since I can remember, the birthday dessert is sculpted, decorated, or manipulated into representing a significant aspect of whatever the given person has gone through for the last year. Some years it’s been a joke, about someone being obsessed with a new sport (a replica of a frisbee golf “hole” filled with chocolate chip cookie “discs”), or deciding a new career path (when I wanted to grow up to be president, it was a perfectly iced presidential seal), or when someone became politically involved in a local topic (complete with picketing lego people around a factory). These examples don’t even begin to cover the creative territory my mom can handle…but suffice it to say there are a great number of interesting scenarios that have been played out on top of desserts in my family.

So saying, when my brother got back from his latest fire fighting trip, he had a pretty good idea of what his birthday dessert might look like. After picking a favorite blueberry crumb cake, he figured it’d be something about his mad chainsawing skills, which have kept him and his crews safe for years now. But it was his descriptions of the scenery that stuck with the rest of us: fighting fires along the Pacific Coast, on steep coastal slopes that made chainsaw work dangerous, and under constant attack from poison oak. In fact, my poor brother came back from his three week stint covered in disgusting looking wounds and rashes from the poison oak, and tales of the necessary prednisone shots that tend to make a group of gruff, overworked and under-rested firefighters a little aggressive. I suppose we were all glad that these risks weren’t as fatal as the fire itself can be, but we did wish that he was given better protection from the issues he did face.

This cake, however, topped a lot of previous efforts. It recreated the steep slope, with the crumbs standing in for the rough dirt and rocks. Instead of candles, my mom covered it with toothpicks, and carefully topped them with foliage made of crepe paper, making it a realistic depiction of a forest that WAS INDEED HIGHLY FLAMMABLE. She even cut up green gummi bears and scattered them around to look like poison oak. When presented with this bizarre cake, which went up quite like a California wildfire when it was lit, we prodded him to do what he does best; to put the fire out, fast. That he did, though bits of ash were still floating down when the cake was cut. Luckily for us, he put out yet another fire, and even more importantly, his weeks of firefighting gave him the healthy appetite required for the clean up.