I have remained either indecisive or non-committal (I'm not sure which this would be?) about leaving for Red Cross shelter operations, although my bag is packed for a call to go Monday or Tuesday. I still need to gather a few things. Some water purifying tablets, some lotion, extra batteries. They're adamant about us having a sleeping bag. In 100 degree weather? But what do I know? Not lots.
Originally I wasn't going without Mirabai. They told us they couldn't guarantee we would stay together, but at least I figured we could do all our pre-departure stressing out together, and we could possibly fly together. And then she decided to wait. Yet, for some reason, I kept on with the preparations. My friend Rich stepped in to where Mira would have been in my life. And while Rich is a great guy, no one is Mira.
I have done so much processing of this, talked to so many folks. Almost entirely concluded that I was not going, slept on that, and then moved right in to doing more prep work.
With Katrina, as with any North American tragedy, the murder of John Kennedy, the murder of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr, the attacks of Sept. 11th, there will be many stories of where people where when they found out, how they felt, and how it ultimately affected them. I am so sorry to everyone who found out by living it, who felt petrified, and who ultimately ended up with out a home, or worse, with out some of your beloveds. I reckon that these harried, bipolar efforts are my nublin little attempt at a contribution, being that there is no consolation.