Big Trouble in the Big Easy, pt. 2

I'm not sure what it is. Maybe it's the one million-plus people who are currently homeless. Maybe it's the thought of the dead bodies floating through the streets of New Orleans being pushed aside as rescue workers race against time to try and save the survivors stuck in buildings and on rooftops. Maybe it's the way southern Mississippi got sucker-punched to a degree while the news media and most of the public focused on New Orleans. Maybe it's the horrifying pictures coming out of Gulfport, or the death toll that is certainly going to end up being a lot higher than anyone is letting on at this point, or the thought of the rising floodwaters in a city that thought the worst had passed... like I said, I just don't know. But something about Katrina has connected with me in a way that no disaster ever has before, not even 9/11.

(I suppose that merits clarification. Yes, I was horrified by 9/11, and I was glued to my TV for as much coverage as I could stand, and I went to bed every night for weeks with those horrifying pictures etched onto my brain, and I still get emotional when I let myself truly stop and think about it. But everyone felt that way about 9/11, you know? Not everyone feels that way about Katrina. We're all horrified, but there are a lot of folks out there who are just sort of horrified in passing. "Yeah, it's a terrible thing," these people say, "such a shame. So, did you see the game this weekend?" And here I am, knowing nobody in the affected areas, having no ties whatsoever to that part of the country, and I can't get the damn thing out of my head.)

We went to the store to get bottled water for the bookstore this afternoon, and I couldn't help but think about the hundreds of thousands of people down south who have no fresh water except what's being frantically brought in to them. I sat down for my lunch with a Subway sandwich, and I couldn't even finish the thing when I thought about all the people living on MREs and donated goods - if they're even getting that yet. I came home to my nice air-conditioned apartment and it made me almost sick to my stomach imagining those people down in the steamy bayous without electricity - let alone AC. Don't even get me started on my possessions, and how looking at my "prized" DVD/comic book/book collections makes me want to just sit down and cry because I can't help but think of all the people who have lost absolutely everything but their lives and the clothes on their backs.

Since Sunday evening, I've been about an eyelash away from loading up my car with some camping gear and rapidly gathered donations from friends like water and clothing and then heading south to try and lend a hand wherever I can. And that's not me. I'm a selfish person, really. They say that you should know your faults, and I know that's one of mine. But something about Katrina has (at least temporarily) pounded that part of me into submission, and I just can't stop thinking about how badly I want to help. Donating some money online to the Red Cross efforts earlier today didn't even make a dent in it. I know that I could call the Tulsa chapter and get involved with answering phones (which I know are swamped) or coordinating efforts to gather and send off the items like water and clothing that people are donating locally, but even that doesn't seem like enough. I have this almost overpowering desire to go, to use my mind and muscle wherever they need it the most down there, to look the people that I'm helping in the eye instead of doing it anonymously from 600 miles away.

Sigh. Such a horrible tragedy.