Ungenerous Thoughts

Some ideas flitting through my daydreams today, very selfish ones at that.
The first is that menopause with its fatigue and college classes with papers to write and computer programs to learn are very ill-at-ease with each other. 
What in the world am I doing here? 

The other idea is that I am really glad I don’t live in New Orleans.  Better them than me.  Narrow-minded of me, I know this.  I’d like to say that I’d handle things alright, keep a good head on my shoulders, carry out the family pictures and birth certificates first.  Trouble is, those take some time to find even when I know there’s a needful appointment coming up, let alone if I were running from a raging storm.
I’d grab my crochet bag, there’s enough thread for several small projects, and also holds a paperback book.  I’d be ready to pass the time waiting for rescue.

Just in case there was anything around to eat, I think I’d remember a fork, spoon, cup, and plate like I would carry to a church potluck.
The scene of the movie AMISTAD ran through my mind.  You know the one where the sailor was ladling out porridge to the black folks in their shackles, and all they had was their cupped hands to receive even that little bit.
A jacket, a couple changes of underwear and shirts, and my eyeglasses case.
Tools.  Grab the ax, the coiled rope from the rafters of the garage, my Swiss Army knife, work gloves.

What I could carry in two small suitcases and my backpack.  My dad had a rule for trips when we were teenagers: we were supposed to take only what we could carry.  It didn’t matter that the car was loaded to its roof with what mom thought we would need, but that’s a story for another day.

Where would I go?  I have friends and family all over the country.  I like to think that they would be willing to take me in, but I am not easy to have around as a roomie.  It would have to be a short visit, maybe a week at a time in each place.

Much of my attitude is that I would want to stay, to stick around and see what happens to my house, to my friends and neighbors.  To try to help, with whatever skills I have.  I can cook, do first aid, entertain children, be a go-fer.

I certainly would not take the gun and be shooting at rescue helicopters, nor would I steal a generator that someone owned, a guy with more foresight than me and was using for his family.
To sink to such a low level is a disgrace, and puts a blemish on all citizens of this country.
Where did the idea I gotta have MINE come from?
It’s more productive to barter and support and assist anyone who is in the same predicament.  “Be careful.  The toes you step on today may be connected to the ass you have to kiss tomorrow.”

at lunchtime, one of the guys at my table in the cafeteria said that the people of New York were courteous to each other after September 11.  I love it when a young man says the word courteous, it shows he has a good background education.
I tried to explain to him that on that day, only a couple buildings and airplanes were involved.  The traffic simply moved around the epicenter of the troubles, people were able to walk across the bridges, return to their homes and pantry, where the toilets worked and the evening news showed the family what had happened downtown.

In New Orleans, the situation is crazy.  Nowhere to go and no way to get there.  No plumbing, or TV news, or way to cook food.  I have been to St. Louis, and let me tell you the heat and humidity would be enough to send anyone over the edge of sanity.  New Orleans has high temperature and too much water and isn’t looking better for awhile.

Even with all the mess, I am so disappointed to learn that humans have gone so low so fast.  Having never been truly desperate (the WIC program for my babies doesn’t count), I don’t know if I could handle being a refugee, but golly, shooting at the helicopter?

This is one of the times when “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you” takes on its true meaning.

Donate something to the place where you believe it will do its best.  The Red Cross was founded for just this sort of circumstances.  I did a book report in 4th grade on Clara Barton, so I can vouch for good intentions.

If that’s not possible, then send good vibes and prayers to those who are in the thick of the aftermath, both the victims and the workers.  And especially the electricity providers. 
So much of this country depends on the volts.
~~love and Huggs, Diane