Raining for the third day in a row, and except for some chilly wind and messed up hair, I can't complain. After all, people in the corn belt are flooded beyond repair from these spring rains. Fields looking like lakes, furniture ruined, televisions and computers made to be recycling fill.
I remember stories of Viet Nam flooded rice paddies, my cousin sleeping in ankle deep sludge with the rains pouring on his helmet. Desperate to sleep, being soaked to the skin and caked with mud wasn't a deal breaker. Sleep had to come. I remember a summer not too long ago when rain was scarce, and we were rationing baths and only flushing when REALLY needed to try to keep the reservoirs above critical lows.
The Japan earthquake and tsunami have filled our eyes and ignited our fears. Thousands in the path of a murderous wall of water, cars, buildings, trees, concrete and all forms of debris never had a chance to even look back. The tragedy is overwhelming, surreal, even horror-movie like. Yet we cling to the hopeful videos of a dog lost for three weeks found a little skinny, but ok; the photo of the three month old baby alive and well under a tent of fallen lumber found in the same town where her parents grieved at their presumed loss. We hang onto daily measurements of radioactivity in the cooling water of the damaged nuclear power plant, and the myriad of experts telling us it is nothing to worry about, could be something to worry about, is critical and we should worry about it.
Once again, I'm stunned by how small the earth, how far the stretch of what we choose to learn, what information we accept, what we keep and what we decide to dispose of. Information overload, fear of the real possibilities of century 21, desire for the happy ending? I think it simply hopefulness and determination. We hope we will overcome.... we are determined to get back on track.
I remember stories of Viet Nam flooded rice paddies, my cousin sleeping in ankle deep sludge with the rains pouring on his helmet. Desperate to sleep, being soaked to the skin and caked with mud wasn't a deal breaker. Sleep had to come. I remember a summer not too long ago when rain was scarce, and we were rationing baths and only flushing when REALLY needed to try to keep the reservoirs above critical lows.
The Japan earthquake and tsunami have filled our eyes and ignited our fears. Thousands in the path of a murderous wall of water, cars, buildings, trees, concrete and all forms of debris never had a chance to even look back. The tragedy is overwhelming, surreal, even horror-movie like. Yet we cling to the hopeful videos of a dog lost for three weeks found a little skinny, but ok; the photo of the three month old baby alive and well under a tent of fallen lumber found in the same town where her parents grieved at their presumed loss. We hang onto daily measurements of radioactivity in the cooling water of the damaged nuclear power plant, and the myriad of experts telling us it is nothing to worry about, could be something to worry about, is critical and we should worry about it.
Once again, I'm stunned by how small the earth, how far the stretch of what we choose to learn, what information we accept, what we keep and what we decide to dispose of. Information overload, fear of the real possibilities of century 21, desire for the happy ending? I think it simply hopefulness and determination. We hope we will overcome.... we are determined to get back on track.
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