Ordinary World

By D.J. Mitchell and Scott Pollak

The debut novel that entertained thousands of readers! Now in its second edition, with a Foreword by professional narrator Scott Pollak.

As the financial system crumbles around them, a rural family learns to survive the challenges of an unfamiliar new world. Bill, Gracie, and their son Joe learn new ways to live as their reali

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alma James Publishing LLC
• Release date: Oct 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735680866

D.J. Mitchell

I’m a wanderer. I grew up in a small town in New Hampshire, and moved to Los Angeles when I was nineteen. In 1993, I volunteered in Sri Lanka and Thailand for 18 months, and made several more trips over the years. Eventually, I joined a team that worked to end the Sri Lanka civil war, and helped bring about a cease-fire there.In 2004, I settled in rural southern Utah, where I raised goats and made cheese for eight years. In 2014, I became a father, and there weren’t enough hours in the day for cheesemaking anymore.In 2016, I moved with my family to Harrisonburg, VA, so I could attend Eastern Mennonite Seminary.I’ve loved writing since I was a child. I began my first novel at age thirty, and it’s not finished yet. My first published novel, Ordinary World, came out in 2012 and received great reviews. Now that I’m otherwise unemployed, writing allows me to work while still having the flexibility to be a good father.

Book preview

Readers Praise Ordinary World

An intelligent, believable, relevant masterpiece...

"Do yourself a favor and read Ordinary World. It is educational, full of emotion, both in the characters and felt by you as you follow this family's ordeal!"

Very intelligently written... I would recommend this book to anyone wanting to read a darn good story.

This story really hit home with me as a father and as a husband...

I’m happy to find an author that wrote about an apocalypse in which people still remain human, try hard, make mistakes, and whose efforts sometimes fail... This book was an excellent value, and I am happy that I found it.

I was mesmerized...

––––––––

I am very impressed with the humanity of this story, and the realistic point of view it portrays... A very enjoyable and ultimately satisfying read.

"After you've read a few post-apocalypse stories, they soon begin to read like new characters squeezed into the same old, overused plot. Not so for Ordinary World... I was thoroughly hooked. This book is very different. The reader will share their laughter and weep over the family's losses."

If you have ever thought you’re prepared for something as big as a nation-wide collapse, this book will give you a few things to think about in an entertaining read.

For my wife, Carrie, who sees the best in me,

And for Ethan, who teaches me about love.

Papers in the roadside

Tell of suffering and greed

Here today, forgot tomorrow

Here beside the news

Of holy war and holy need

Ours is just a little sorrowed talk

—Duran Duran

Foreword

As far back as I can remember, I have enjoyed reading. As a child growing up in the 60’s, I devoured every single volume of The Hardy Boys that came out. In my teens my focus was on all things extraterrestrial or sci-fi: works by Kurt Vonnegut, Ray Bradbury, Frank Herbert, Arthur C. Clarke, Isaac Asimov, Douglas Adams and other sci-fi greats, not to mention all of the UFO and Flying Saucer books that were everywhere at that time. I also enjoyed nonfiction works by Asimov, Carl Sagan and others. In later years my books of choice were often penned by the likes of Michael Crichton, Ken Follet, John Grisham, Anne Rice, Dean Koontz, and the occasional Stephen King.

My wife of 31 years and I have similar tastes in movies, music and books, but we don’t agree on everything. If a movie has great effects and computer graphics (she’s a former 3D animator), then it pretty much gets her stamp of approval. For me, storyline is paramount. That’s why we do not agree on Cowboys and Aliens!

And of course the same is true for my reading material. While I understand that the reader must open his or her mind to possibilities the author is creating, if the story is simply too contrived to be believable, or poorly expressed, or spattered with un-proofed typos, errors or bad grammar, as so many self-published books are today, then I’ll reach a point where I’ll close the book for good without finishing it. I expect the author to respect me as a reader.

I have a unique opportunity to read day and night in my adult years because of my job. I’m a professional voice talent who also narrates audiobooks. A lot of audiobooks—almost 200 at last count. I have voiced everything from how to invest in the stock market, to innovators shooting for the moon, to private detective novels and, oh yes, a handful of end-of-the-world-post-apocalyptic tomes.

Much of what I have voiced as part of my career has been quickly forgettable. But there have been a half dozen or so that have really stood out, and Ordinary World is at the top. I don’t mean near the top. I mean, of all the books I have voiced, Ordinary World is my all-time favorite read and narration. My wife, who edits my audio for me, agrees that it is one of her favorites, too. It is so much a favorite that I recently ordered a paperback copy to re-read again. My narrations are typically done from my computer screen, and I wanted a copy I could have on my bedside table at night.

Through my narration of Ordinary World, I became friends with the author, D.J. Mitchell, and was flattered when he asked me to write a foreword for the reissue of this intelligent, believable, relevant masterpiece. I suggested D.J. find someone a bit more recognizable than me to write it, but he insisted, so here I am.

Ordinary World weaves a beautifully subtle and touching journey that starts in one of the most important places: it humanizes the main characters and makes us care about them. Their lives, complete with their flaws and frailties and challenges, become real and relatable. D.J. throws in just enough details of life on the farm in Utah for Bill, Gracie, and Joe that the reader can empathize with the daily grind and the joys and tribulations of making your living in the semi-wilderness of a remote mountain community. Where the novel really begins to shine, however, is when the building blocks of modern civilization begin to crumble, bit by bit.

The impending apocalypse is neither that of slimy alien invaders from Mars, or a nuclear wasteland wrought by a Korean despot, and not even that of a worldwide contagion crippling young and old alike. (Wait a minute, that couldn’t really happen, could it??)

Instead, the believability factor ramps up by a scale of 50 (or maybe to 11 if Spinal Tap was rating it) when the economic infrastructure slowly begins to unravel. It starts with something small but significant, when the state of California can’t honor its debts. From there the house of cards begins to fall and anything that relies on monetary flow starts to seize up and fail. So, in other words, pretty much everything. Businesses fail, financial institutions close, communications companies collapse, and cash money becomes scarce. For those like Bill and Gracie’s friends Bernard and Rita, who have only known the artificial comforts of contemporary city life, even something as simple as finding gas to put in the car or groceries becomes a nearly impossible task.

The journey that D.J. takes us on from there encompasses every emotion, from fear and anger to frustration, laughter, hope and revelation. And I can’t promise you won’t shed an occasional tear. Besides Old Yeller, this is the only book that ever made me literally cry at the death of an animal. Yes, I had to stop my narration, walk away from the microphone, and come back after I had composed myself. That’s how good this story is.

It’s a tale you can believe, and believe in. D.J. respects his readers enough to not waste your time or take advantage of you. I get the impression he respects his readers’ intelligence. In the end, you won’t feel fooled or left out to dry, as so many authors often do when they can’t figure out what the whole point of their story really is. You’ll have found new friends in Bill and Gracie. And you’ll put the book where you can find it in the future, knowing you’re going to want to read it again. I’m already looking forward to the third time I’ll be reading it.

Scott R. Pollak

www.voicebyscott.com

Preface

Ordinary World began during the Great Recession of 2007. And it began not as a novel, but as a fictional blog, the journal of a family experiencing a financial collapse, posted in real time. It seemed like a great idea. Except no one read it.

I went back to the drawing board, and wrote it as a novel. I wrote it not to make money, but because I loved the story. And the more I wrote, the more I loved it. (So did my family. They still think it’s my best book ever.) I self-published it on Amazon, my first published novel, and didn’t expect that many people would read it. When the first royalty check arrived in my mailbox, I thought it was a mistake! But the book sold thousands of copies in the first few months, making it my most successful book to date.

This year I wanted to create a second edition for two reasons. First, because it was my first novel, it wasn’t formatted as well as I now wish. Eight books later, I’ve learned a lot about formatting!

But more importantly, with COVID-19 ravaging our nation, and the accompanying economic hardships and unbelievable government spending, and a political climate of uncertainty as the 2020 election approaches, this is a story that is timely again.

Will it still be timely once COVID has passed? Every few years a national crisis seems to suggest this imaginary reality. I suspect that the story of Bill, Gracie, and Joe will remain relevant for many years to come.

Ordinary World is not intended as a preparedness primer or a manifesto. I did research it to be accurate to the best of my ability. But it is first and foremost a story about a family facing hardships together, in an imaginary world that could easily become a reality given a few bad decisions by our nation’s leaders. (I don’t place responsibility on a particular party. As an Independent, I see plenty of room for improvement in both.)

For today, Ordinary World is a work of fiction, and I pray it will remain so. Perhaps it will move you to think about some of our national policies. Perhaps not. In any case, I write stories because I want you to enjoy them. I truly hope you will.

D.J. Mitchell

October 3, 2020

Zombies and Boy Scouts

I’ve seen many things in my lifetime that I did not expect to see. Outrageous fantasies of my youth are now history. I remember when video communication was the stuff of science fiction; now an internet connection and a free software program allows me to video-chat with almost anyone in the world—for free. Three-dimensional printing allows an idea for an object to be sent by internet to a distant printer and made into a solid object. It’s been used for dental implants for years; recently someone did it with a working gun. Beam more weapons, Scottie!

The reunification of Germany, the fall of the Soviet Union, a two-state solution for Palestine: they were once the fantasies of futurists.

All of which reinforces what the Boy Scouts taught me many years ago: Be Prepared.

I live in one of the most prepared states in the country: Utah. The Mormon Church, as it is called by non-members like myself, has taught preparedness for decades. Most families here have a year’s worth of food in storage, an abundant supply of ammunition for their firearms, and a seventy-two hour kit in case of evacuation.

Outsiders seem to find that strange. Evacuation? Why prepare for that? They have already forgotten about hurricanes that hit the Gulf and the East Coast, floods in the mid-west, wildfires in California and Texas, and any number of other natural disasters that displace tens of thousands of Americans each year.

Since 9-11, the federal government has gotten on the preparedness bandwagon. Homeland Security advises us to be prepared, to have an emergency plan, to keep a supply of food on hand. But I wonder how many folks outside of Utah and the Mormon Church are listening?

Ironically, the Mormon preoccupation with preparedness stems not from fear of the future, but from memory of the past: Buchanan’s Blunder sent troops into Utah in 1857, making Utah one of the few states north of the Mason-Dixon to be invaded by a Federal Army. The settlers, unequipped to confront the Army, grabbed what they could and headed for the mountains.

The Mormons have taken preparedness seriously ever since, and that’s an interest I have gained since I moved here. Like them, I have a year’s worth of wheat and other provisions, a healthy supply of ammunition, and a seventy-two hour kit in case we have to evacuate because of wildfire, flash flood, or any other reason.

Preparedness is never complete. Think about everything we buy from the store each week, and all of the inputs that make our lifestyles possible: electricity, water, gasoline. Vegetables. Pet food. If we expect to live a similar lifestyle in a time of economic or political uncertainty, we face a continuing process of making ready.

That is how I come to be talking about zombies in a preparedness store in Cedar City.

It’s all fun and games until you run into one, the store owner tells me. He is a young man with dark hair and a neatly-trimmed beard. Despite the camouflage clothing on display around his store, he wears blue jeans and a t-shirt that advertises a micro-brewery in Colorado. Clearly not a Mormon.

There have been several cases in the United States already, adds his wife, a plump woman who looks to be in her late twenties.

Crazy people who murder people and eat the flesh of their victims, says the owner.

There was a case in New York City where a woman ate her own child! exclaims the wife. Just like it says in Revelation.

We all pause for a moment to revel in the drama of that claim. Then she adds, Well, Revelation doesn’t specifically say it will be New York. But it’s scary. The end times are coming.

This is a topic I enjoy. I got my degree in theology, so it’s something I know a little about.

Revelation, I say in my best teaching voice, "has no context of its own. What it means depends on the context we give it. At the time it was written, readers believed it was about the fall of Rome and the restoration of Israel. These days people think it’s about the end of the world, in which case we ought to ask ourselves who the great power is that is going to fall. Aren’t we the most likely Babylon?

"Some say it’s about the evils of empire, and how every empire must fall before the Justice of the Lord.

"My friend the rabbi says it’s not about politics at all, but about the struggle of free will inside the human soul.

It all depends on what context you give it. By itself, it says nothing.

The store owner nods. His wife nods. Then she turns to him and asks, Greg, can you put the zombie wall back up over there? I think customers will find it interesting.

I think that’s a great idea, he replies.

Babylon

Revelation is a frightening book. Especially if you’ve read the rest of the Bible. Revelation is a warning that the penalty for not living by God’s law is severe.

I’ve always had a different view on God’s law than some folks. Jesus tells us that all the law hangs on two premises: To love God, and to love our neighbor. I take him at his word. So when Cain asks, Am I my brother’s keeper, the answer is yes. And when the law of Exodus warns against oppressing the poor, that rings true to me. And when Isaiah tells his people that God’s judgment is coming because the leaders have taken all the land and been corrupted by greed, and foretells a restoration in which a just government shall rule, it seems clear to me that the focus of God’s law is not what anyone does in their bedroom.

Revelation tells of the destruction of a people. What nation is Babylon the Great which has made the merchants of the world rich? Who are the kings of the earth who committed fornication with her and lived in luxury with her?

The prophet warns that all who remain as part of Babylon will perish:

Then I heard another voice from heaven saying, "Come out of her, my people, so that you do not take part in her sins, and so that you do not share in her plagues; for her sins are heaped high as heaven, and God has remembered her iniquities. Render to her as she herself has rendered, and repay her double for her deeds; mix a double draught for her in the cup she mixed. As she glorified herself and lived luxuriously, so give her a like measure of torment and grief.

I sure wouldn’t want to be living in Babylon, would I?

Except I’m pretty sure I do.

And the merchants of the earth weep and mourn for her, since no one buys their cargo anymore, cargo of gold, silver, jewels and pearls, fine linen, purple, silk and scarlet, all kinds of scented wood, all articles of ivory, all articles of costly wood, bronze, iron, and marble, cinnamon, spice, incense, myrrh, frankincense, wine, olive oil, choice flour and wheat, cattle and sheep, horses and chariots, slaves—and human lives.

Babylon. The most luxurious nation on earth. Every one of us benefits from the free market juggernaut, the control of oil fields by friendly dictators, and the expansion of American franchises into nearly every corner of the globe, sending a steady stream of money to our economy here at home.

Do I want to live in a less privileged nation? I do not. No matter my protests, no matter my awareness, I am of Babylon and I shall suffer its eventual fate.

No one expects that fate to come too quickly. Yes, the financial system almost crashed a few years ago. Yes, the value of the dollar has plummeted thanks to inflation caused by deficit spending. Yes, droughts, fires, and floods have ravaged farms and communities across the country. Yes, climate change has dried out lakes and even eliminated winter for some people, making me wonder if the prophecies of Joel aren’t already upon us.

But we’re still okay for a while, right?

What’cha reading? my wife, Gracie, asks as she enters the bedroom. She’s been working in the kitchen, and her wavy, blonde hair is corralled in a scrunchy behind her head.

It’s hard to describe Gracie without using the word average. She’s neither short nor tall; she’s well curved, but neither thin nor fat.

But Gracie is far from average. There’s a light in her eyes and a spark in her personality that attract people to her. She looks comfortable in her own skin, though she would tell you otherwise.

She leans against the door frame now, her jeans faded but fitting comfortably, her t-shirt loose but hinting at her figure underneath. I smile, and remind myself what a lucky man I am.

Gracie, for her part, often tells me that she’s the lucky one. I’m six feet tall and tan easily, with brown hair and dark eyes that Gracie says are chocolate brown. I’m not as lean as I used to be, but she never mentions that. She seems to be as happy with me as I am with her.

I’m reading the Bible, I tell her.

Why? she asks.

I relate my story of the zombie fans in Cedar City.

And you think the world is about to end? she asks, lightheartedly.

Not really, I say. There have been religious leaders warning that the world is going to end almost every year since 1700. It hasn’t happened yet. Three hundred years of being wrong doesn’t inspire a lot of concern. Then I add, Of course, they only have to be right once.

She laughs, and her whole face lights up. It’s infectious, and I find myself grinning.

I’m more bothered by the economists and the environmental scientists, I continue. They say we can’t keep going as we are for very long.

Does that bother you? she asks.

I think about that for a moment. Not really, I say. I don’t expect to be around when it all comes crashing down. And besides, even if it does happen, it might not be such a bad thing. Change can be good, right?

Everything is exactly the way it’s supposed to be, she tells me, not for the first time. If there is a God, how could it be otherwise?

If, I add. I’ve never been convinced that there’s a God, at least not one that plans our futures.

Gracie grins. She knows my reservations.

Something is in charge, and it’s not us, she says.

I love it when she smiles.

We have a good life, I say. I started this business because I couldn’t find a job, and now look at us. Maybe if things change, more people will find what we have, instead of having to punch a clock.

It doesn’t sound that bad to me, and I tell her that.

Gracie laughs again, and I feel a spark of light in my chest.

You know what you are? she says. You’re an apocalyptic optimist.

Love and Difference

Gracie is my third wife, and I am her third husband. They say the third time is the charm, and that has held true for us. Our life is, as Gracie says so often, blessed. It’s not always easy, but it is filled with love, companionship, and mutual support.

I met Gracie a few years back, after my second marriage broke up. I don’t like to talk about that, because it’s just too hard to explain how two decent people can be so unsuited for each other, and how it can take so long for them to admit it.

I wasn’t looking for a relationship when I met Gracie. After all, aren’t two marriages enough? She came out to the ranch for a job interview, but she was so magnetic that instead of hiring her, I began dating her.

She didn’t plan on staying. She needed a job to make some money so she could move back to Colorado, where she grew up.

Besides, she said, it’s not like you want to help me raise my son. You don’t even like kids.

What makes you think I don’t like kids? I protested.

You don’t have any, do you? she replied.

No, I acknowledged. But I was never with anyone who wanted any. That doesn’t mean I don’t.

Hmph, she said. We’ll see.

Now, a few years later, her son Joe calls me Dad. He’s seven years old, blonde like his mother, slender like his biological dad. He likes to play basketball and play video games, and he listens to my CDs of the pre-punk rock band, The Ramones. And he’s as much of a son to me as I could have ever imagined having.

Gracie was born in Colorado; I was born in New England. She came to Utah with her father, when she was a teenager. I moved here with my second wife, looking to escape city life in California. I started a successful business raising goats and making cheese. Gracie thought she wanted to study horticulture and grow plants. I was raised Episcopalian. Gracie was raised Mormon. I’m a fervent religious skeptic who studied religion at the university to try to understand it. Gracie majored in horticulture, and now studies Vedanta. I follow the news every day. Gracie prefers to read classic literature. She loves Dante and Ayn Rand, books I wish I had taken the time to read but probably never will.

In no way is this an obvious match. Yet our differences compliment each other, make life more interesting, and give us both strengths the other needs. As Eldridge Cleaver famously said, Too much agreement kills a chat. Our differences are what make this interesting.

Gracie feels strongly about a clean kitchen. I like my kitchen clean, but am not used to living with someone who likes it cleaner than I do. I can be a bit lax at times. But if it’s not clean, Gracie won’t cook.

Canning season is when this difference is especially noticeable. I love to can fresh vegetables and fruits. When winter comes, I’d much rather eat our own tomato sauce, for example, than something out of a can or jar. Pickles, apple sauce, chutney, and more spice up our winter diet.

Gracie likes it, too. But the weeks of produce-covered counters, stacks of pots and pans, and spills on the stove sometimes combine to make her grumpy. She loves the result, but hates the process. So this time of year, there’s tension between wanting to can, and not having enough time.

I make a pretty good tomato sauce. It’s pretty simple: fill a pot with cored, quartered tomatoes, add onions and peppers, season with basil, oregano, a splash of lemon juice, a dash of salt, and a bit of sugar, and add (I hate to admit) a can of store-bought tomato paste. I simmer it until the tomatoes break down. Then I spoon it into sterile quart jars, let it sit in a hot water bath for thirty minutes, and let it cool. Ten pounds of tomatoes make two big pots of sauce, which will fill seven quart jars, which is what my hot water bath holds, plus a bit left over for dinner.

This summer was hot and unusually wet, so it’s been a great year for tomatoes. I’ve canned twenty-eight quarts of sauce so far. I’ve also done pickled cucumbers, squash, peppers, and mixed vegetables. Plum jam and plum chutney. Pear-raspberry jam. Applesauce and apple-plum sauce. Yes, it’s been a good year for plums, too.

But tomato sauce is the most desired, because it’s the most useful. We go through about two quarts a week, so twenty-eight quarts doesn’t go very far. I’d like to do twice as much, but I don’t have the time. Besides, frost is around the corner, and Gracie’s patience is wearing thin.

I drive past the produce stand gazing longingly at the boxes of tomatoes for sale. But the truth is, we’re going to be busy for the next few days. The tomatoes would rot before I got to them. I sigh. Twenty-eight quarts will have to be enough.

Nightmares

When I was seven years old, I read books voraciously. I didn’t like to go outside, because it took me away from my books. I would stay in my room all day reading, if my parents would let me.

Joe doesn’t read much. Instead, he uses the computer. He plays video games, he chats with people on Facebook, and he watches videos on YouTube. He doesn’t like to go outside. He’ll stay in his bedroom all day and play on the computer if we’ll let him.

At first, I found this strange. Then I realized that we didn’t have computers when I was seven years old. If we had, I probably would have preferred them to books.

Of course you would have, Gracie says. Don’t you prefer your computer to books even now?

I growl at her. I hate it when she’s right.

One thing I am constantly amazed at is how many of the games and videos and chats are about zombies. The games, of course, are about killing zombies, often in the first person and very graphically. Joe says he prefers a fully automatic shot gun for killing zombies. I’d guess that would be hard to beat.

The videos are about the various theories about where zombies come from, what causes them, how they are spreading through the country, and of course, how to kill them.

I had always thought zombies were caused by a virus, and that the virus was contagious. No, Joe tells me, they are caused by a chemical reaction in the body, and their blood is not contagious at all.

Silly me.

The chats are about the games and the zombie research. Joe and his friends can go on for hours discussing the minutest details of zombies and their eradication.

At least, if we are ever actually attacked by zombies, we’ll have an expert in the family.

Joe is forbidden to do any zombie activities after dinner, because Gracie worries that it may cause him nightmares.

One night Joe wakes up screaming. Gracie jumps out of bed and runs to see what is wrong. I hear her talking softly to him. After a while, she turns on the music box that always calms him when he is disturbed at night.

When she returns, she tells me, Joe had a nightmare. But he won’t tell me what it was about.

The same thing happens the next night, and Joe still won’t talk about it.

The next day, we hope that daylight will make him less afraid to talk about his dreams.

What was your dream about, Gracie insists, gently.

Joe shakes his head,

Was it about zombies? I ask.

Joe’s eyes get wide. He freezes for a moment, then nods in the affirmative.

You know there’s no such thing as zombies, right baby? Gracie says.

I know, Joe says. But they scare me anyway.

Why are you afraid of something that doesn’t exist? Gracie presses.

Because I’ve seen them, he says.

On YouTube? I ask.

Yes, Joe says. And outside.

"Outside our house? I ask, skeptically.

Joe nods, solemnly. I don’t know what to make of that.

Do you mean that you see them when you’re playing? Gracie asks.

Yes, Joe admits.

You know the difference between real and pretend, right? Gracie asks.

Yeah, Joe says.

You’re talking about pretend zombies, right? she says.

I guess so, he says.

Gracie considers this for a while.

I think, she says, that you watch too much zombie stuff. We’re going to make a rule that you can’t watch any zombie stuff for two weeks. Then we’ll see if your sleep improves.

Mom! Joe protests. No zombie stuff at all? That’s not fair!

It doesn’t matter if it’s fair, Gracie says. You’re dreaming about zombies, so no more zombie stuff. Period, she adds, as Joe starts to protest again.

Later, she says, I wish they wouldn’t put all that stuff in his head. The world is scary enough without him being scared about stuff that doesn’t exist.

Are you sure it doesn’t exist? I ask, thinking back to my talk with the zombie store folks.

Gracie looks sharply at me. You don’t really believe in zombies, do you? she asks, dismissively.

Not exactly, I say. But what if zombies are a metaphor for something else?

Like what? Gracie asks.

I don’t know, I say. People who don’t act like people.

That’s pretty vague, she says. Hard to disagree, what with terrorists and politicians and such. Maybe there are zombies everywhere after all.

She’s mocking me, but I don’t care. I let it drop. But Gracie has a kind of foresight, and I suspect that Joe may have it, too. I wonder if his nightmares might be a premonition of something coming that, being seven years old, he doesn’t understand.

Preparedness

The Mormons call themselves the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, or LDS for short. They believe that there are prophets walking the earth right now, calling us back to the path of the Lord.

I don’t find that so far-fetched. Even a cursory reading of the Bible suggests that we have strayed far from God’s law. Why should there not be prophets? In the word’s traditional sense, that simply means social critics, men who called the people back from their wicked ways.

I’ve had long discussions with young Mormon missionaries, and on this much we agree: our purpose here on earth is to create a better society in which there is more justice and less suffering. I don’t buy their beliefs about Salvation and the Afterlife, but I do have a lot of respect for what their church does, both in the community and around the world.

When a natural disaster happens, the Mormons are among the first on the ground, loading up a jet with supplies and sending help to the affected area. In Haiti, after the earthquake, they even partnered with a Muslim organization. I have a lot of respect for that kind of interreligious cooperation.

And they teach preparedness, both to their members and to anyone else who will listen. They’re careful to teach that preparedness means not just preparedness for civil unrest, but for financial troubles as well. Whether it be for the loss of a job, an extended illness, or an economic depression, being prepared can make the difference between eating and not eating, and keeping your home or losing it.

The idea of a zombie apocalypse has caught on to Facebook now. My friends there are posting a lot of warnings about how to fight zombies. And maybe there’s some truth in it, I don’t know. I wonder how many of them have extra food in their basement.

What concerns me today is the news report about three state bankruptcies. California has for the first time acknowledged that it can’t pay its debts. New York and Illinois are expected to follow suit.

The problem is, no one knows what will happen. There’s no mechanism for a state to declare bankruptcy. The state governments apparently kept spending on rosy expectations of future economic growth, which they believed would translate into increased tax revenue. When growth didn’t happen, they counted on a bailout from the federal government. The banks and the auto manufacturers got one, why not the three largest states?

But those three states are just the most visible tip of the iceberg. Some 32 states are bankrupt, and the combined expenses they can’t pay would double the national debt. Our senators, who remember the outrage over bailing out the banks, are now making statements about states taking financial responsibility for their own messes.

What happens now? No one knows. There’s no mechanism to discharge the debts of a state. There’s a lot of speculation, but no real answers. The best guess seems to be that the Fed will eventually have to step in and bail them out. Otherwise, the states will default on their bonds, meaning they can’t borrow more money, and without borrowed money their budgets would grind to a halt.

What’cha doing? Gracie asks me, catching me off guard.

I glance up at her quickly. I’m sure I look guilty. I’m supposed to be doing bookkeeping, not browsing the news. I briefly consider closing my browser so she doesn’t know I’ve been goofing off, but I have five windows open with various news reports and financial analyses. It’s obvious I haven’t been doing the books.

The news says that California is about to go bankrupt, and that New York and Illinois aren’t far behind.

She frowns.

That doesn’t sound good, she says.

No, I agree. And there’s a report that says there are 32 states in all that are technically bankrupt.

Is Utah one of them? she asks.

No, I say. Actually, we’re one of the 18 that isn’t.

That’s something, she observes. But I suppose we ought to review our preparedness supplies.

Later, out in the barn, we