August 31, 2005
With a little help from my friends
by Jeff Langstraat
By now, we're all familiar with the devastation facing Louisana, Mississippi, Alabama, and Florida. It's so overwhelming that language fails because words are inadequate to the task. They con't convey the devastation, the pain, terror, shock, and even occassional relief that is experienced.
I've been through a couple of much smaller natural disasters. In the spring of 1998, I did what all Midwestern men seem to do; I stepped out onto the front porch when a tornado warning was called. (Yes, it's stupid, but it's just something we do--we yell at each other across the street, "See anything?") I watched an f3 tornado form over my home as it moved on to St. Peter. I stayed at a friend's house in Mankato for the next week or so because my parents' house (I lived with them while doing my MA) was without power. It was still spring and cold, so the house smelled of the kerosene heater they were using in the house.
In 1993 I was a student at Iowa State University. One night, I was up late, studying for my last two finals as an undergraduate. I received a phone call suggesting that I move my car to higher ground because they were expecting floods. My car was already in an elevated space, in front of the residence hall I was staying in that summer--one of the places they were telling people to move their cars. I went outside, where it was raining lightly. Shortly after that, I set my alarm and went to bed to get a couple hours sleep. When I woke up, my clock was flashing. I grabbed my watch and saw that I had ten minutes to make it to my first final. Buying a blue book at the bookstore, I was told that classes had been canceled due to the flood. I hadn't seen any water, but when I got back to the residence halls, the towers we were working at for the summer were now rising out of a lake. The lower levels, housing the food service and maintenance operations, were under water. Ames was now an Island. The floods of 1993 had hit central Iowa.
We spent the next week or so moving ourselves and our entire conference operation (basically, most of the residence life staff) to a different set of dorms and filling sandbags. Des Moines had it much worse. Their water system was corrupted by the floods. The city was underwater, yet there was no water to drink or bathe with.
These disasters dirupted my life for a few weeks, but affected the lives of others much more profoundly. Having a friend's home to stay in and working with others to fill sand bags, though, showed me the absolute necessity of assistance for survival. These disasters can bring out the absolute best from us because they highlight the sense of connection, of a common humanity. I can't even begin to imagine what life is like in those areas destroyed by Katrina. The sense of complete loss, the absolute uncertainty would be overwhelming. Thousands upon thousands of people are now homeless, left with nothing. There is an increasing threat of disease. These folks need help.
This diary over at dailyKos provides a list of organizations that are on the ground helping people in this time of ovewhelming need. I'm going to repost the donations link for the American Red Cross. Check out the Kos diary for other orgs, and a brief description of the focus of their efforts. If you can, give.
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