Table Of ContentTable of Contents
Title Page
Foreword
Introduction
Chapter 1. - We Quit the Rat Race
Chapter 2. - The Cost Of Living
Chapter 3. - Income
Chapter 4. - We Rassle with Our Consciences
Chapter 5. - Meat
About Killing Meat—Presenting a Case
Rabbits
Slaughtering Rabbits
Chickens
Pigs
Goats
Game Meat
Chapter 6. - Fish
Catching Fish
Cooking Fish
Turtles
Chapter 7. - Gardening
Herbs
Garden Cultivation
Foraging
Yellow Rocket
Mushrooms
Chapter 8. - Grain
Chapter 9. - Groceries
Chapter 10. - Preserving Food
Canning
Smoke-Curing
Chapter 11. - Nutrition
Chapter 12. - The“Necessities Of Life”
Glossary
Yeast
Sugars
Equipment
Freeze-Concentrating
Winemaking
Recipes
Chapter 13. - Housing
Low-Cost Housing
How Foreclosure Sales Work
Back-Tax Sales
Home Repairs
Your Property Tax Assessment
Chapter 14. - Heating
Chapter 15. - Electricity
Chapter 16. - Clothing
Chapter 17. - Transportation
Chapter 18. - Law
Rules
Procedure
Chapter 19. - Health and Medicine
Dolly’s Depression Dispersing Directions
Home Remedies
Dental Care
Various Therapies
Chapter 20. - Daily Living
Autumn
Dolly’s Autumn Doggerel
Winter
Spring
Summer
What’s Gonna Happen Next?
Afterword
About the Author
Copyright Page
Foreword
Possum Living, by the pseudonymous Dolly Freed, was probably out of print by
the time I stumbled across it in 1985, in the attic above the woodshed of a fixer-
upper farmhouse I’d bought in Washington County, New York. The previous
owners had been city people whom the house, as well as a death in the family,
had defeated, and they’d left behind a pile of books that suggested all too clearly
they’d cherished the same back-to-basics fantasies that had brought me there.
Many of these volumes dealt with such specific and practical matters as building
decks and preserving vegetables; Possum Living was a manifesto. True, it
offered hands-on advice—recipes for such foraged vegetables as yellow rocket,
tips on raising and butchering rabbits, a diagram of a woodstove made from an
old oil drum—but more notably it made a new version of the centuries-old
argument for quitting the “money economy” in favor of a freer way of life.
(“Freed” chose her pseudonym cleverly.) The book’s grocery-bag brown cover
and its typewriter-style typeface, complete with ragged-right margins, suited the
post-hippie, reduced-expectations gestalt evoked by its subtitle: How to Live
Well Without a Job and With[the word Almost careted in, in faux handwriting]
No Money.
My parents had also fetishized—and to a great extent achieved—a life of rural
simplicity, and when I was growing up, their generation’s equivalents of Possum
Living still sat on their bookshelves: such Depression-conditioned survivalist
tracts as Maurice Grenville Kains’s 1935 Five Acres and Independence and
Louise Rich’s 1942 We Took to the Woods. Freed published her book in 1978, the
middle of the Carter era, with a small outfit called Universe Books; the
following year, Bantam reprinted it as a mass-market paperback. They must have
thought it would appeal to the outdoorsy, countercultural, basically nostalgic
readers who, a few years back, had bought the Whole Earth Catalog, the Foxfire
books, and Euell Gibbons’s Stalking the Wild Asparagus. But Dolly Freed makes
clear from the get-go that she’s no high-minded advocate of the American
pastoral: “Why is it that people assume one must be a hippie, or live in some
dreary wilderness, or be a folksy, hard-working, back-to-nature soybean-and-
yogurt freak in order to largely by-pass the money economy?” she writes in her
introduction. “My father and I have a house on a half-acre lot 40 miles north of
Philadelphia, Pa. (hardly a pioneer homestead), maintain a middle-class façade,
and live well without a job or a regular income—and without working hard,
either.” Freed presents herself not as a utopian, but as a subversive survivor in a
corrupted world, without ideological illusions. “We live this way for a very
simple reason: It’s easier to learn to do without some of the things that money
can buy than to earn the money to buy them . . . . So if you’re thinking spiritual
or sociological thoughts, don’t waste your time with me.” For her totem animal,
Freed fixes on the ignoble possum—“the stupidest of animals,” but “fat and
sassy” and able to survive “almost anywhere, even in big cities.” Rather than
embrace such sentimental icons as the soaring eagle, or even the lone wolf, she
identifies herself with a varmint.
Freed frames Possum Living as a call to change your life—“It’s feasible,” she
writes in her peroration. “It’s easy. It can be done. It should be done. Do it”—but
her contempt for any form of idealism makes it hard to believe that she cares
much what society at large does, as long as it leaves her alone. And despite her
repeated claims that you can be “lazy” and survive on $700 a year (even in 1978
dollars), the possum life seems arduous enough: gardening, canning, fishing,
hunting and raising animals for meat, foraging, cooking, gathering wood for the
stove—not to mention making the stove. And fixing up the fixer-upper. Freed
and her father bought their suburban house for $6,100, but the plumbing was
ruined, the brick walls were crumbling, the cellar floor was mud, the wiring was
faulty, and the windows were broken. Their do-it-yourself repairs, she reports,
took less than a year, but it must have been a hell of a siege. All this primal work
was surely less alienating than the factory labor her father resolved never to
endure again, but it can’t have been the Edenic existence that Shakespeare’s
Gonzalo fantasizes about in The Tempest: “No occupation; all men idle, all; All
things in common nature should produce Without sweat or endeavor; . . . but
nature should bring forth, Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, To feed my
innocent people.”
Whatever Freed or her publishers thought Possum Living was, I see it as both
a classic of American cantankerousness—like Thoreau’s Walden, Melville’s
Moby-Dick, Frost’s “Build Soil,” or Pound’s ABC of Economics—and a cryptic
autobiography. Freed was supposedly eighteen when she wrote this book—and I
see no reason to doubt her—and here and there she gives glimpses of a
rancorous, downwardly mobile, borderline-violent milieu, something like the
world of her contemporary Raymond Carver. “A friend of ours,” she notes in
passing, in a chapter on “everyday nitty-gritty law,” “lost his cool and threatened
Description:In the 1970s Dolly Freed lived of the land dirt cheap and plum easy. Living in their own house on a half-acre lot outside of Philadelphia for almost five years, Dolly and her father produced their own food and drink and spent roughly $700 each per year. Thirty years later Dolly Freed's Possum Living
