Can Nostalgia Morph Into Preparedness?

A few nights ago, I attended a presentation in the high school auditorium regarding a series of past disasters in Woburn.  I arrived a few minutes after it began and could not park in any of the school lots.  It was, therefore, no surprise to find the auditorium full of people.  The empty seats were few and far between.  I sat on the steps to rows of seats in the upper section of the hall.

I had been in that fine space only twice before, both times for events related to the city's mayoral leadership (a debate and an inauguration).  Of the three, this was the biggest turnout I've seen.  I was amazed and curious, and jealous of the guy who held everyone's attention with projected images of and stories about losses that happened a while back.

I am, as you know, concerned about conceivable disasters looming over our days, which would not be so isolated as fires, explosions and tornado touch-points.  Only huge storms had overall effects comparable to what threatens all of us now:  fuels too expensive to use in the manner to which we are accustomed, stores unable to restock their shelves with products from afar and weather events and swings interfering more and more with our awkward improvisations.

I would love to have one-tenth of the turnout for a meeting about beginning to consider our local capabilities and options.  The reflection pleasure of we were up to it must be won by each generation.