What you can do on your own

I guess everyone is fascinated with the question of how well they would do in the event when society's support systems fail. When the [insert qualifier here] Apocalypse comes, how long will you last?

I think it's easier to answer these questions if we look at a less extreme case, where someone voluntarily abandons a group/community and tries to make it on his own. How well does he do? How prepared was he?

Like the case of Philip Johnson. It's depressing how one can screw up his life despite having all the promise in the world, just because he couldn't follow the rules. This brings to mind Marc MacYoung's words on the subject:

Relationships are economies.   When I talk about economies, I'm referring to a back and forth of goods, services and emotional investments. Both parties are benefiting, both parties are active participants and -- most of all -- it's give and take. (For years I had a deal with the women I lived with. She cooks, I'll do the dishes. Together we got it done via this equal division of labor.)

We do more for those inside our family/clan/tribe than for those outside. While we may do random acts of kindness and charity to strangers, mostly, we reserve our good deeds, empathy and concern for 'our own.' It's a very inside kind of thing.

Outside, there are certain social standards that allow strangers to -- if not get along -- get through their day and take care of business. These are kind of broad, general standards that do have some specific application -- like you behave differently in a church than you do in a restaurant than you do walking down the street. People are generally expected to understand these unwritten rules in order to get through the day.The point is, these behaviors are kind of standard and really shouldn't have to be explained to adults. As an added benefit, extra courtesies are gifts (e.g., holding the door for someone, giving an elderly or infirm person your seat on public transportation.)

It's a sobering lesson. This is the threshold of adulthood: realizing you're not hot stuff, and that you need to observe the customs of where you are to fluorish. I see myself in that violin thief, and I affirm that he is not someone I want to continue to be.