I Want To Blame and Help Somebody

This is the statue of Christ on the main lawn of Loyola University New Orleans I took last year. With it came a joke from the tour guide: "Christ seems to saying, I'm sorry we couldn't accept you. Why don't you try Tulane next door?" (paraphrase) I just saw a photo of this statue on a CNN newscast, standing proudly as the cameras zoomed in on the damage all around it. My heart skipped a beat; it didn't seem so funny in retrospect.

First some good news. I spoke with Ray this a.m. at a number his Texas daughter provided and he is fine. The family thought he was going to refuse to leave on principle. In actuality, he'd give anything to leave but is told that busses won't be available for the "regular" folk until Tuesday or Wednesday. He and others in the neighborhood have consolidated in the home of a friend and they are living on the second floor--but the water is rising. He says when he finally gets to Texas where his kids are, he'll do a recap of the horror of it all at Ray Whiting's My Life. He said even in his neighborhood people have been shooting at the rescue helicopters. I asked about sending money and in his southern way he said, "Fran, honey, there are no banks and I sure can't get to my Paypal account."

And now the personal stories of friends and family members begin to filter to all of us who aren't in the area. My friend Jerry, married to my closest friend Barbara, reports that his sister and her three children and their families did evacuate early to various places in the south. Now they hear that all four homes are gone and they don't have the slightest idea what to do next. Now they are fortunate, I know; they got out, but they are working class people.

Most of you know I'm a political liberal and I'd love to lambaste the current administration for tying up everything in Iraq and our policing of the world. But, after visiting the Los Angeles Times, even though it would be easy to displace all my anger and frustration at our President and his people, what good is that going to do at this point?

Sure, I'll give to charity; and sure, my life has become like a bumping-into-walls prayer, but I've got TO DO SOMETHING! I'll yell at the people and circumstances later; but besides money and prayer, I want to do more than stand in a ditch screaming at God like Job.

How can we not be in deep, helpless mourning? War with a foreign power may not have touched our soil since the Revolution, but this Katrina aftermath seems like a war we lost. And now some people will do the actual rescue and rebuilding work, while I bump into walls praying. The Catholics say we are the Mystical Body of Christ; Marianne Williamson says we are all the same person. Cellularly I am so f--cking sad, mad, and scared. This I do know. All of us in earthquake country know we have to keep our safety kits up--and we forget when everything is calm. I don't even know where my big plastic barrel is; it has been a long time since 1992. The least I can do is get one back into shape again. It will give me something to do--with intention--for all the people who have no food, no water, no medicine, no anything.