Folks ask me all the time, “Kyle, do I really need to turn my basement into some kind of Cold War hidey-hole?”

And I always tell ‘em the same thing.

No.

Not unless you’re real keen on concrete dust in your coffee and arguing with your spouse about whether canned beets were a smart purchase.

Look, I live down in southern Missouri where the ticks are bold, the humidity is a religion, and the storms have attitude. But even here, I didn’t start out with a stockpile worthy of a History Channel feature. I started out with a couple extra cases of bottled water shoved behind the furnace and a closet full of peanut butter.

Start Small, but Do Start

When our daughter Wendy was about to head off to college (this was back in ‘04) I remember thinking to myself, what if there’s a big ol’ power outage while we’re driving her across state lines? That’s when it clicked. I didn’t even have a flashlight in the truck that worked reliably. Batteries were from the Clinton administration.

So I stopped by the Walmart off Highway 60 and picked up a couple cheap LED flashlights, a wind-up radio, and a five-gallon gas can. That was my first prep. I didn’t call it that at the time. Just seemed like common sense.

These days, folks have a tendency to overthink things. They look at prepping like it’s some kind of competition. But I’m here to tell you, the first step is making sure you don’t have to leave your house for three days if the power goes out or a storm rolls through and takes a few trees with it. And I mean really not leave, not for food, not for water, not for a phone charger.

The Shelf Test

Here’s a trick I call the Shelf Test. Walk into your kitchen, open your pantry, and ask yourself this question: If we couldn’t go anywhere for 72 hours, could I feed my whole family without anyone crying?

Now be honest. I’ve done that test a few times and discovered I had more packets of expired ranch dressing than actual calories. Chips, cookies, half a bag of rice, and a can of pumpkin puree from a failed pie idea four Thanksgivings ago. You know what saved my bacon? Canned chili, instant oats, and those snack-size tuna pouches I’d completely forgotten I bought.

What You Actually Need Right Now

Here’s what I tell folks to keep on hand, and no, it doesn’t involve gold bars or military-grade night vision goggles.

The Paper List Trick

Wendy made fun of me for this once, but I stand by it. I keep a laminated list of emergency contacts and local radio frequencies taped inside the hallway closet. If the cell towers go dark, I want to know how to reach the county sheriff and the local NOAA station. That list also has a copy of our medical info, prescriptions, and Steve’s blood type. He’s O negative. I checked while he was helping me install new shelves in the garage and nicked his thumb.

Your House Has Secrets

Start looking at your home like it’s full of hiding spots and useful corners. That gap under the stairs? Perfect for water storage. The drawer nobody uses in the guest bathroom? That’s your first aid cache now. Put some gauze and a tourniquet in there. Not because you expect a disaster every Thursday, but because you might be slicing up venison and get a little too enthusiastic.

I know a guy in town who hides his backup flashlight inside an empty cereal box on the pantry shelf. Says no one will ever look there but him. I think that’s a little weird, but hey, it works!

Don’t Forget the Boring Stuff

Got your prescriptions filled? How about your wife’s glasses, does she have a backup pair? That one hit me hard a few years ago when Darlene stepped on hers and had to use an old prescription for two weeks. She kept bumping into things and accused me of shrinking the laundry, which I most certainly did not.

Real Preparedness Ain’t Flashy

You know what real prepping looks like? It’s knowing where your stuff is. It’s being able to make pancakes without power. It’s walking into a blackout and calmly lighting a lantern instead of digging through drawers like a raccoon in a panic.

You don’t need to turn your life upside down. You just need to be a little more ready than you were last week. My basement ain’t a bunker. It’s a regular ol’ basement. Some tools, some shelves, a few extra blankets. But if the power goes out, I’m not in the dark, and neither should you be.

Now listen, I love a good survival meal as much as the next guy, but some of these “prepper-friendly” recipes floating around taste like the back of a cardboard box. I’m not naming names, but I once tried a biscuit recipe made from powdered eggs and regret. That thing could’ve patched a canoe.

This here’s my go-to skillet cornbread. No soup, no stew, just honest-to-goodness baked comfort that works whether you’ve got a full kitchen or you're running on a propane camp stove out on the back porch. I’ve made this with shelf-stable ingredients more than once during an outage.

And yes, it tastes like actual food. My wife even gave it the nod, and she’s particular about her cornbread texture!

Here’s what you’ll need:

Tools

Got all of that? Great! Now start by following these steps:

Let me take you back to January 2007. If you lived anywhere near southern Missouri that winter, you already know where I’m going with this.

We got hit with an ice storm that looked like something out of a disaster movie. Trees bowed down like they were praying for mercy, power lines were popping like firecrackers, and the whole world got real quiet except for the sound of things cracking and falling.

I was still working part-time then, helping out a buddy who ran a small engine repair shop out near Poplar Bluff. Darlene was at home, the power had already gone out that morning, and I’d just managed to get back to the house when I heard the crunch from across the road.

Now our neighbor (I’ll call him Todd, even though that’s his real name) had this ‘great’ idea in his head that if something needs fixing, you just grab the closest power tool and do something about it. Which sounds real manly until you’re the one holding the flashlight while he’s trying to chainsaw a limb off a tree that’s still under tension from a power line.

What Went Wrong

See, Todd had a big oak tree in his front yard, and one of the limbs had cracked partway, still attached but leaning heavy over his driveway. Ice all over it, probably 300 pounds of stress waiting to snap. Instead of calling the co-op or waiting it out, Todd marches out with his rusty old chainsaw (no helmet, no gloves, wearing Crocs, I kid you not) and fires that thing up like he’s auditioning for Ax Men.

He’s up there standing on a ladder that’s half-sunk into slushy grass, trying to cut the limb while I’m standing at the end of my driveway yelling Todd, that’s a real bad idea! He waves me off like I’m interrupting genius at work.

Sure enough, the moment he starts cutting, that limb whips down, the saw jumps, and the ladder slips. Todd falls backward into his birdbath, the saw skitters across the lawn like a dropped fish, and the limb doesn’t even fall; it just pivots and jams tighter into the other branches. So now he's wet, bruised, and mad, and his chainsaw is running unattended on my property. It was honestly impressive in a Greek-tragedy kind of way.

What I Learned (That Todd Did Not)

Here’s what stuck with me from that whole icy mess:

1. Just because you can use a tool doesn’t mean you should.
Chainsaws, generators, kerosene heaters…these things are unforgiving. Don’t wait for the middle of a storm to figure out how they work. Practice when it’s sunny. Test your gear. Sharpen your blades. And if you can’t use something safely, don’t.

2. Frozen limbs are unpredictable.
Trees under ice are not the same as trees on a calm October day. They’re under pressure like a spring trap. That limb Todd tried to cut was probably holding a hundred pounds of tension. One wrong move and it could’ve whipped right into his neck. Always approach damaged trees with extreme caution or, better yet, call someone trained.

3. Ladders on frozen ground are not ladders…they’re carnival rides.
If you’ve got to go up high during or after a storm, you better have three points of contact and a spotter. Todd had neither. He had Crocs. That’s not a safety plan. That’s a punchline.

4. Your neighbors are watching, so be the guy they want to follow, not the story they tell.
Everyone on our street saw what happened. And for the rest of that year, Todd was “Chainsaw Todd” at every potluck and HOA meeting. Still is. I use his story every time I give a little talk at the church or do a community preparedness demo.

5. Power outages make people act weird. Prepare ahead so you’re not one of them.

The stress of no power, no heat, and frozen food can make folks reckless. I’ve seen it time and again. But if you’ve got a plan, if your gear’s tested, and if your pantry’s stocked, you’ll be thinking clearer when your neighbor’s trying to chainsaw an icicle off his roof.

Todd was lucky that day. He walked away with a sore back and a bruised ego, and I got my flashlight back a week later. But it could’ve been a whole lot worse. Ice storms are sneaky.

They don’t look dramatic, but they’ll turn your backyard into a danger zone faster than you can say should’ve waited till morning.

I’ve got about seven of these stashed around the place. One in the glove box, one in my hunting pack, one in Darlene’s gardening basket (she doesn’t know it’s in there), and at least two floating around in the garage like little preparedness nuggets.

This week’s project is one of those deceptively simple things that ends up being pure gold when you actually need it.

It’s an Altoids Tin Fire Kit, and it’s compact, sturdy, smells like wintergreen if you didn’t clean it out properly, and best of all, it works. We’re not making a novelty here.

We’re making something you can hand to a cold, wet cousin and say “Here, don’t die.”

What You’ll Need

This is not a shopping trip project. You probably have most of this in drawers already, and if not, your neighbor Todd probably does, though I’d double-check it for gasoline stains first.

How to Pack It All In

This whole project costs about five bucks if you’re frugal and might save your tail when things go sideways.

Also makes a great gift. I gave one to my son-in-law Steve last Christmas and told him it’s the only kind of mint tin you can trust during a blizzard. He laughed, but I noticed it’s in the glovebox of their Subaru now.

Hi, it’s Wendy! Kyle’s daughter, Oregon-based mom of two, lifelong snack referee, and the reason my dad started labeling his emergency buckets “NOT FOR DAILY SNACKING.”

I live just east of the Cascades where the wind likes to rattle the siding off your house while snow casually sneaks in sideways. Steve and I love it out here, but being a mom to Luke and Charlotte means I’ve had to get creative with the whole preparedness thing. Toddlers don’t exactly respond well to phrases like “off-grid contingency planning” or “fuel rotation schedule.” They do respond to fruit snacks and glow sticks. So that’s where I start.

The Secret Prepper Toy Box

We have what I call our "Adventure Box" in the front hall closet. It’s just a small storage bin filled with stuff the kids think is fun but I know has dual-purpose value. Inside, you’ll find:

Every month or so, we “go on an indoor adventure” which usually just means I flip the breaker to the living room, light a candle, and we play flashlight tag. Meanwhile, I’m checking which flashlights still work and who stole the last granola bar. I call that a win-win.

Snacks as Strategy

My kids are snack monsters. If we’re out of applesauce pouches, it’s a DEFCON situation. So I’ve started keeping a hidden prep bin labeled “Holiday Decorations” that is 70 percent shelf-stable snacks they actually like. Fruit leather, pretzels, raisins, those peanut butter cracker packs…nothing fancy, just stuff that buys me sanity during a power outage or a grocery shortage.

And yes, everything is rotated quarterly, usually after I “accidentally” bring the wrong lunchbox to preschool and realize Luke will, in fact, eat that weird brand of trail mix if he’s hungry enough.

Practice, Not Panic

One of the best things my dad taught me (besides how to swing a hammer without swearing) is that prepping doesn’t have to be dramatic. We don’t sit around the table doing drills with headlamps. Instead, we camp in the backyard with no Wi-Fi for a night. The kids think it’s magic. I’m secretly testing our sleeping bags and making mental notes about which snacks survive 40-degree weather.

We do “rainy day baking” with powdered milk and shelf-stable eggs and call it Mad Scientist Muffins. We’ve made biscuits with nothing but oil, water, and flour, and you better believe they were decorated with dinosaur sprinkles because morale counts.

Let Them Pack Their Own Bug-Out Bags

I gave both kids tiny backpacks and told them we were building super explorer kits. Luke packed a flashlight, a stuffed rabbit, half a sleeve of Ritz crackers, and five Lego heads. Charlotte packed two diapers, a tiara, and a juice box from last summer. Not perfect, but hey, they’re learning. And I slipped a change of clothes and some wipes into the lining. It’s all progress.

Don’t Be Weird About It

My last tip: don’t make it scary. I don’t say, “If the power goes out we’ll be cold and sad.” I say, “Sometimes we pretend we’re camping in the living room. It’s fun and also we get marshmallows.” Same idea. Different tone. More giggles. Fewer therapy bills later.

And for the record, Steve now calls it “prepping lite” but I caught him organizing the pantry last week and muttering something about expiration dates.

So yeah, it’s working!

Alright, this one separates the casual “I’ve got a flashlight somewhere” crowd from the folks who are actually learning what preparedness feels like. And no, I’m not asking you to go dig a well in your backyard or start collecting rainwater in your grandma’s crockpot.

Just this:

Turn off your home’s main water supply for 12 hours.

Set a timer. Go about your day. No cheating.

Sounds simple, right? Until about hour four when you’re standing in the bathroom with toothpaste foam in your mouth and realize you didn’t fill a rinse cup.

Here’s how to do it without flooding your basement:

Things You’ll Learn Quickly:

And here’s the beauty of it:

You’ll come away with a checklist made of real-life pain points. And that’s where real prepping starts. Not with a 47-item bug-out bag checklist you found on the internet. But with your own house and your own needs.

Make notes. Were you short on water jugs? Did someone use all the baby wipes cleaning up a juice spill? Did the dog drink the backup bowl? Good. Fix it now while the world’s still spinning.

Bonus tip from Darlene: If you have guests staying over and you forget to warn them you’ve shut off the water, you’ll find out real quick who your true friends are.