Maybe the time has come

Long ago and far away Kadizzle spent summers on a family farm in West Virginia.  Call the place a farm was a misnomer.  In actuality it was an overgrown farm that had been abandoned around World War two when everyone left to work in the war factories.  Kadizzle's father bought the place and it basically served as a retreat in the wilderness of West Virginia.  The real beauty of the place was it's isolation.  To get to the farm which was nicknamed Bonnieville one had to first cross the Hughs River.  Normally you could drive through the water with some caution.  Other times you simply had to leave the car or truck and walk across the river.  If there was a vehicle on the other side you were in luck.  Once the river had been crossed a journey up the valley on a very poor road put you at the farm house.  The farm house had no electricity, no running water, but it did have two wonders.  There was a phone, and free natural gas piped directly to the house from the gas well.  The house was equipped with gas lights salvaged from old banks by my father.  The refrigerator was run by gas.

This virus insanity has inspired Kadizzle to consider going to the West Virginia wilderness and living in isolation.  The challenge would be the fun part.  You could work on solar power,  have a little lumber mill, and work hard to raise food.  Social life could be a visit to the Hill Billies over the hill.  Internet might be non existent. That might be a good thing. 

Existing in the woods might require very little outside input.  The biggest issue would be food.  The gas well would provide all the heat, light, and energy one could want.  Raising food on the West Virginia soil could be a problem.  Over the hill there are real hill billies.  They have made a science out of living in these woods.  They know how to harvest deer, blackberries, persimmons, and welfare checks.  They have survived just fine for generations.

The cost of living would be damn near zero.  The entire estate is about four hundred acres.  The tax on the land is miniscule because the land is essentially worthless.  My father paid 14 dollars per acre and some land was bought for 23 dollars per acre.   A social security check would go a long way there.  Boredom would be the biggest problem.  Back in the old days it was nothing to go three weeks without seeing a soul.  Sometimes some odd traveler would drive past on the road, which happens to be a state road that never gets attention.  Well let's just see if Trump can golf us out of this mess.