http://www.jsonline.com/news/2000/y2k/jan00/survive02010100.asp
Meltdown letdown
Hudson family spent $20,000 preparing for worst that never came
By Peter Maller
of the Journal Sentinel staff
Last Updated: Jan. 1, 2000
Hudson - Dennis Olson admitted to being a tad disappointed when Western civilization refused to collapse at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve.
 Photo/Jim Gehrz Jennifer Berks feeds her 11-day-old son, Michael Berks, while D'Anne Olson offers support. Meanwhile, Brian, 13, and Dennis Olson tend to business in the kitchen. |
"Dial tone," he said to his wife, confirming that the phone in his kitchen still worked - even while celebrators at the Mall of America on his TV screen greeted the moment he had long dreaded with wild cheering and elaborate fireworks.
The dial tone was more proof that society had not unraveled. Olson put the phone to his ear knowing that 2000 had arrived in time zones across more than half the globe without any major Y2K disruptions.
The $20,000 he spent on tons of food, barrels of drinking water, medical supplies and an electric generator had come to naught.
"It's a little bittersweet to see it end this way," said Olson, 41, an electrical engineer and computer consultant. "It was almost the kind of rush you get in a roller coaster. You climb and you climb and you climb. And you wonder: 'How steep is the decline? How fast will it go? And what's hidden around the corner?' "
The Olsons were one of many families around the country on that roller-coaster ride.
The worried ones had run their bathtubs full of water, stockpiled Meals Ready to Eat and dried fruit, snapped up generators and bought ammunition - just in case. They raided Wal-Marts and corner hardware stores for batteries and water purifiers. They traded survival tips on the Internet.
Pastors and mayors, hard-core survivalists and just ordinary fretters, they feared the Y2K computer bug - glitches caused by computers failing to recognize "00" as 2000 - might bring power shortages or water-system failures or even government-imposed martial law.
On Saturday, they couldn't help wonder: Had they overreacted?
Seated in their Hudson living room, sipping champagne, Olson and his wife, D'Anne, 33, reflected on the yearlong chunk of their lives they invested to prepare for the worst.
"We don't mind having a newspaper reporter here," he said. "We want to dispel the myth that only wild-eyed lunatics with machetes have been getting ready."
A tall, heavy-set man with a warm personality, Olson said he logged more than 1,000 hours on the Internet chatting with like-minded survivalists. He devoured esoteric bits of knowledge, learning how to carve out an existence in a world gone haywire.
"I studied everything there was to know about the power grid, the just-in-time supply system, fuel shipments, food storage, communications and martial law," he said. "I even have a medical kit equipped for minor surgery."
What's more, the Olsons' entry into this wired subculture of Americans expecting chaos to come from the new year brought an 11-day-old infant into their lives. The baby, Michael Lee Berks, was advertised for adoption on a survivalists' bulletin board.
"The grandparents of the baby wanted to see him go to a family that was prepared for Y2K," Dennis Olson said. The Olsons ended up temporarily taking in the child and the child's mother, Jennifer Berks.
One of the Olsons' two teenage sons, Brian, 13, joined his family in the living room to celebrate the new year. The other son was out of town. Brian, who played computer games until 5 minutes before midnight, said he never shared his parents' worries over Y2K problems.
"I couldn't care less," he said, sipping non-alcoholic red wine as the new year rolled into the Central time zone. "This was all my dad's thing."
Dennis Olson's doggedness to get ready for a catastrophe annoyed his neighbors. After seeing a steady stream of contractors arrive to deliver and install a $13,000 electric generator, the neighbors complained to city officials.
"We weren't doing anything wrong, so there was nothing the city could do," Olson said. "But the neighbors think we're Y2K nuts. And I can handle that. If things went wrong, I know they'd be the first ones knocking on my door for a place to stay warm.
"What I did was nothing more than taking out a little Y2K insurance. I don't think I have to apologize for that."
As for the 400 boxes of Hamburger Helper in his basement, the 175 pounds of pasta, 50 bars of soap, nine tubes of toothpaste and other supplies - they may be needed yet, Olson said.
"This is hardly over," he said. "Thank God, we got through tonight. I did the happy dance. But I don't think we're out of the woods until May or June. Plenty of computer problems can turn up between now and then."
If summer passes without crisis, Olson said he would likely donate some of his stored provisions to organizations serving needy people.
"I think some of the food banks are going experience a real big bonanza about then," he said.
The Associated Press contributed to this report.