It's never enough.
I donated to the Red Cross after Katrina hit. I wasn't sure how else I could help.
I considered traveling to New Orleans to help with clean up, but my husband told me he would be too worried about my safety and wished that I would not go.
Tonight I've been reading blogs of folks who have taken in refugees, personal accounts from the refugees themselves, and the stories of people who lost next to everything in the major hurricanes last year. I guess I'm just feeling strange and overwhelmed.
This may sound silly, but I feel almost guilty for donating to the Red Cross. I have to ask myself if I donated purely to help others, or was a part of it to ease my discomfort caused by removed, liberal semi-awareness (Disclaimer: NO, I'm not trying to paint all liberals with the same brush. Poo on you, commie). You've probably heard of the scenario of a white person smiling at a black person because that person is black. The white person does not want to be seen as racist, so he smiles. If the other person had been white, no smile. I'm wondering if that's why I donated. I'm wondering if my motives really need to be dissected. I'm wondering if I should ask the doc to up my meds. *chuckle*
I suppose I'm also feeling guilty because I know that whatever we can afford to give to the Red Cross is not enough. It will never be enough. I felt good after we donated. You see the heart warming commercials with families receiving meals and shelter, you get a nice thank you letter from the Red Cross, and you think, 'Wow, my fifty bucks really helped someone!' And then you read stories of people who are still struggling to survive more than a year after losing their houses and everything in them during the major hurricanes last year.
And then maybe you think that the only reason last year's tragedies are getting any attention at all is because this year's hella active hurricane season has renewed the ADD addled media's interest in storm victims. So, you start thinking about all the people whose stories will never be plastered on beliefnet and Red Cross commercials. And you wonder, what WHAT WHAT can I possibly do to help?
Finally, maybe you start wondering what would happen to you if a natural disaster annihilated your home. If you were left with the shirt on your back, maybe less. Where would you go? Who would care? How much of your fate would depend on the kindness of strangers? No, of course you wouldn't just sit back and expect hand-outs. But sometimes everyone needs a little help getting back on their feet. I'm reading about people who seem to be BUSTING THEIR ASSES trying to escape poverty and hardship, but rarely ever getting ahead. Why?
Jesus, I need a Bromo-seltzer.
I considered traveling to New Orleans to help with clean up, but my husband told me he would be too worried about my safety and wished that I would not go.
Tonight I've been reading blogs of folks who have taken in refugees, personal accounts from the refugees themselves, and the stories of people who lost next to everything in the major hurricanes last year. I guess I'm just feeling strange and overwhelmed.
This may sound silly, but I feel almost guilty for donating to the Red Cross. I have to ask myself if I donated purely to help others, or was a part of it to ease my discomfort caused by removed, liberal semi-awareness (Disclaimer: NO, I'm not trying to paint all liberals with the same brush. Poo on you, commie). You've probably heard of the scenario of a white person smiling at a black person because that person is black. The white person does not want to be seen as racist, so he smiles. If the other person had been white, no smile. I'm wondering if that's why I donated. I'm wondering if my motives really need to be dissected. I'm wondering if I should ask the doc to up my meds. *chuckle*
I suppose I'm also feeling guilty because I know that whatever we can afford to give to the Red Cross is not enough. It will never be enough. I felt good after we donated. You see the heart warming commercials with families receiving meals and shelter, you get a nice thank you letter from the Red Cross, and you think, 'Wow, my fifty bucks really helped someone!' And then you read stories of people who are still struggling to survive more than a year after losing their houses and everything in them during the major hurricanes last year.
And then maybe you think that the only reason last year's tragedies are getting any attention at all is because this year's hella active hurricane season has renewed the ADD addled media's interest in storm victims. So, you start thinking about all the people whose stories will never be plastered on beliefnet and Red Cross commercials. And you wonder, what WHAT WHAT can I possibly do to help?
Finally, maybe you start wondering what would happen to you if a natural disaster annihilated your home. If you were left with the shirt on your back, maybe less. Where would you go? Who would care? How much of your fate would depend on the kindness of strangers? No, of course you wouldn't just sit back and expect hand-outs. But sometimes everyone needs a little help getting back on their feet. I'm reading about people who seem to be BUSTING THEIR ASSES trying to escape poverty and hardship, but rarely ever getting ahead. Why?
Jesus, I need a Bromo-seltzer.