Shattered

Shattered

Such a lovely name - Katrina. But there have been

other lovely named hurricanes in the past but none

of late that has lashed out so horrendously and thrust not only the Gulf Coast but this whole nation into a seasick state of mind. Bodies washed in front of us, children wailing for help on rooftops, emergency vehicles swirling in churning waters, flattened buildings and thousands and thousands of ruined lives.

And within days, looters running rampant, chaos the norm, helicopters being fired on, toilets overflowing, no food, no water, and still images of children wailing on rooftops.

The tsunami in Thailand is now a tsunami in our own backyard and helping refugees - something normally under the category of foreign aid - is help now going to Louisiana, Mississippi, and Alabama.

President Bush is taking a battering these days. There is no end of Bush bashing going on. Perhaps history will prove it to be justified but aside from all the polemics and endless diarrhea of the mouth that is proliferating about who should have done what and when, let’s not overlook the obvious - people are suffering and need _ to be helped.

What were realizing as a nation is that most of us are literally helpless to help. We want to reach out to that child on the rooftop but our arms won’t cross the miles to do so. That is the frustration, that is the challenge, that is the shattering truth. There is gathering momentum in local communities across this state and across the country as people begin rallying and rise to the occasion with help in the form of money, help in the form of supplies, help in the form of volunteers and help for ourselves in the process. Doing something, even belatedly, makes us feel better.

Perhaps a few tears will be dried soon for those directly affected. And for the vast majority of us - we’ll see. We suffered Hurricane Katrina perhaps in an emotionally worse way - as dry and secure observers.