perspective and sadness

[verbicide]

The situation in New Orleans is so awful, it's hard to know what to even post about.

It felt so utterly surreal as I drove to work on this mild and sunny day. I've alternated between fixatedly reading the news and finding it unbearable to hear another word.

Thanks to rimrunner's link, I've donated a couple of times to the Red Cross, but nothing seems enough. Also, PNW wonder-mom euphrasie has had the very compassionate idea to provide blankets and teddy bears to countless frightened children, huddled in the Astrodome, who could do with a little comforting right now. She's loading up a U-haul and driving it out to Houston, so if you would like to donate in that capacity, her information can be found here.

I've heard more than a few people lament that they never did get the chance to visit New Orleans, and now it's generally commented that even when rebuilt (and I do believe it will be rebuilt), it will never be what it once was. Regardless, once rebuilt, I will do my personal best to go to New Orleans and stimulate the fuck out of their economy by being the spendiest tourist alive.

I fell in love with New Orleans the first (and only) time I was able to visit it. I'd flown out for a whirlwind 72-hour trip for JazzFest. I found the city enchanting. As luck would have it, it was uncharacteristically mild that weekend, which made a huge difference for me. I'd even briefly considered moving out there, except I completely wilt in hot weather and knew I couldn't handle the worst of the heat.

I'll never forget that time and only regret that I wasn't able to go again. It really was a city like no other. Haunting and timeless. The people were friendly, the architecture breathtaking, the southern hospitality engaging.

Sarah and I tried to plan a trip a few years ago, but we were both either too broke or couldn't afford the time off.

My hopes are that in the months to come those of us that can help, do so. As generously as we would want others to give to us in a similar situation. I hope that neighboring states, such as Texas, continue to give generously to those in need, and that through our collective efforts and goodwill, I hope to see the city rise anew. And having learned from these grotesquely, unfairly costly mistakes, better protect itself from the next storm.

I can't fathom what it must feel like to be out there, though I've read some harrowing first-hand accounts. God, what can you do? You count your blessings, you fervently hope for the survivors, and you mourn the dead.

To my friends with family and loved ones out there, my thoughts are with you and if you can think of any way that I can help—please don't hesitate to ask.

Comments

[greyaenigma.livejournal.com]

I've also felt like I should have visited back when I had the chance, and now maybe it's gone. But then I feel pretty selfish in light of the real suffering there. Better to look at it in the light of valuable history being damaged, eroded, and in some cases lost. I'm certain they will rebuild (hopefully this time with a little more concern for the citizens), and I'd still like to go. Someday.

[verbicide.livejournal.com]

It may be a selfish thought, but I think it's very understandable one. (And I can't imagine that you or anyone would try to compare it to the real losses out there.)

But I hope you do get to go someday. I also hope that the rebuild is as fast and (as you mentioned) as improved for safety as it can be.