Post-Schna-ulations

To be serious for a moment

I've been trying as much as possible to avoid posting about the constant stream of tragedies that have been occurring, such as the bridge stampede in Iraq to the current situation in New Orleans (and many others that are not as high profile as well). However, after reading three different individuals blog comments about the situation, I find myself feeling very agitated.
First, I share Sloth's indignation about people's reactions to the whole situation. From the ignorant assholes who are criticizing the dying to the Jaggerbush administration's continuing neglect of everything not associated with its fucking war, I can't help but think most people just don't give a shit what goes on outside of their comfortable little lives.
I don't claim to be aware of everything, but at least I try. And at least when something happens that I cannot HELP but be aware of, I am capable of empathy (or at the VERY LEAST SYMPATHY!!).
I also know that I'm probably preaching to the choir. I know that the people around me who are close to me and probably just about everyone (if not everyone) who reads this blog don't fall into the category of ignorant, unfeeling assholes.
Which brings me to the other two blogs that spurred this post.
At Salmagundionline, I was reminded of the people I knew in the bayous of Southern Terrebone, LA. I was 14 years old when I went their with my high school youth group (I know it might come as a big surprise to some that I was actually part of a youth group in high school, but I was and I'm happy that I was).
My crew (myself and 9 strangers) was sent out to a family for the week, to help them repair their 2 bedroom trailor home on the edge of the bayou. The mother was alone with her children most of the time, as the father spent weeks at a time out oyster fishing. She had 7 children and was pregnant. This was about 2 years after Hurricaine Andrew. The US government had brought supplies to repair their home - mostly large stacks of various sizes, shapes, and types of lumber - and then had left. It sat their for almost two years.
I won't get all mushy on you, don't worry. However, in that week, I got to be very close with all of the children in the family. For a couple of years, they would write me postcards which I had left for them (stamped and addressed). Eventually, that stopped of course. I haven't heard from any of them in close to 10 years.
They had no money, no car, and nowhere to go. The two oldest might have moved away by now. I have no idea how Katrina has affected them.
Another friend, on her blog, made a comment that people were dying "because they were poor, and black". I don't think that she is mistaken, but the comment irked me because I felt like it lessened the plight of those like the family that I used to know there (which is not to say I think that was her intent, because I don't think that at all). They were not black. They were of french descent. They didn't live in New Orleans, and perhaps that saved their lives, but after seeing the damage from Hurricaine Andrew, and knowing how much worse Katrina has been, their situation shouldn't be trivialized and they shouldn't be blamed. And the same is true of everyone in New Orleans now, and everyone hit by this storm.

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posted by Schna @ 9:28 AM