I am hunkered down in what has become my bunker.  It is the same room where I watched the images of the Twin Towers in flames.  Same television.  Same computer, though I didn’t know what a blog was then.

I remember the waves of feeling that washed over me on that day, and the days that followed.  Horror.  Shock.  Disgust.  And, a strange sense of belonging to something so much larger than my self, and my own little isolated den, and subdivision in suburbia, and town in this state.

I remember the words offered that day, and the deeds that followed.
I’m exhausted today.  With horror.  Shock.  And disgust.  And there is no one to blame.  Just us.  This is our government.  These are our people that we have let starve and dehydrate in a manmade hell — a football stadium — and elsewhere throughout a city, the size of which frightens me.

I ranted for a full day.  Screamed on a keyboard.  My wife heard the voice of my father (a raving lunatic of an old man) coming out of my mouth.  And, I still want to rant.  Want to let out how fucking awful it feels to sit and watch and not be able to help much.

Along with all the words, I have started to feel that post-9/11 connection again.  How we are a gigantic family.  Certainly dysfunctional.  But, I’m at home there.  And, this family needs help.  More help than a pep talk or a tongue lashing.

Started to try to do more deeds.  Sent e-mails to officials and media.  Talked with all of you.  And, that was good.  Found out about the moveon.org program to house a family.  And, that was better.  Have signed up to try to save one family, at least, if that is even possible.  And, that felt better.

Listened to all the politicians, mostly talking heads, and journalists, some of whom were surprisingly human.  Listened to the mayor of New Orleans, ranting, saying he was sick of words.  That deeds were needed.

Read a prayer to a god I don’t believe in.  And heard about some of the members of our community here, and their generosity, trying to do the work of a non-existent god.  I’m a pragmatist when it comes to religion.  I’m sure I’ll say a hail Mary before I go, trying to hedge my bets, if I’m lucky enough to have that much control over the process, but I think we probably ought to try to help ourselves in this world, having no evidence of any god who intervenes with deeds of his own.

Typing and reading and praying and watching is kind of hollow, sometimes.  They are mostly words and images.  And as the mayor so passionately said, stop talking and start helping.  Wish there was more one could do.

If you want the moveon.org site information, I include it here.  It was the best deed I could find, for the time being.

Subject: Emergency housing drive at www.hurricanehousing.org

I’m sure you’ve seen the horrifying images on TV of destruction left by Hurricane Katrina, and the many, many people left with nowhere to go.

You can help. MoveOn.org just launched a website, www.hurricanehousing.org, to connect your empty beds with hurricane victims who desperately need a place to wait out the storm.

You can post your offer of housing (a spare room, extra bed, even a decent couch) on http://www.hurricanehousing.org or search there for housing if you need it.

MoveOn will pass requests from hurricane victims or relief agencies on to volunteer hosts, who can decide whether or not to respond to a particular request. The host remains anonymous until they reply to someone looking for housing.

I just posted my own offer. I hope you will too, or pass this on to people you know in the Southeast:

http://www.hurricanehousing.org

Housing is most urgently needed within reasonable driving distance (about 300 miles) of the affected areas, especially New Orleans.

Thanks!