It ain't all pizzas and cream

Into the valley, singing

As many of you know from Cecily's blog, we are again beginning the journey of trying to start a family after the traglic loss of our dear boys, Nick and Zack, at 22 weeks gestation last October.   It is sometimes difficult to even understand, let alone  express, the chaotic storm of feelings that surrounds this part of our journey.  I have come close to losing Cecily, in the most permanent way one person can lose another, twice in our time together: once to addiction, and the other to preeclampsia.  And while I do not relish the opportunity of playing Russian roulette with her life for a third time, nor the idea of again enduring the crushing pain that the loss of a child brings, she and I both are making every effort to focus on the joy that a happy, healthy child will add to our lives.

The best way I can express it is as a group of explorers entering a dark and unknown valley in search of paradise on the other side.  They understand the risks involved, and know too the power of fear, so rather than turn back or ride on in silence, they sing.

Those of you who know me also know I am not a religious man.  Since the loss of our boys, I am not even a spiritual man.  I do not believe that a kindly old watch-maker looks down upon us with keen interest and tenderness.   I do know, however, that we enjoy the rare fortune of having true and generous friends, caring and skilled physicians, a deep love for each other, and the ability and willingness to be loving parents.  And regardless of what lies ahead, these will be the wings that carry our song.

Thank you all for the kindness and support you continue to show both of us.

The [Im]perfect Storm

In the terrible shadow of destruction cast by Hurricane Katrina, it may be tempting to overlook her smaller (and apparently retarded) sister, Ophelia.  If any of you have been watching Ophelia over the last 10 days, you may be thinking: What is WRONG with this storm?   It doesn't move, it doesn't dissipate, and it doesn't worsen.  In many ways it defies what I had been told about hurricanes, namely that they are nature's way of moving warm water to cooler regions of the globe, and that they need a constant source of warm water to survive.  Ophelia, however, moves with about as much verve as a hippo on tranquilizers, AND she keeps raining over the same patch of ocean, which by now must be a brisk 68 degrees.

If you know me, you know I'm a little obsessed about weather.  Storms in general, and hurricanes in particular, seem to be the one way to prove beyond a doubt that if there is a God, he has a serious drinking problem.  So, I tried to imagine what would happen if Ophelia simply NEVER went away...and never made landfall.  Would we have to name next year's storms around her, skipping the "O"?  Would she become a permanent feature of navigation charts (with cautions on maps to avoid the big red thing that looks like Jupiter's spot)?  Would extreme-surfer clubs spring up along the Carolina coast to take advantage of the perpetual curl?

So, I decided to find out what a hurricane's average lifespan usually is.  Turns out, the average is about 10 days from the time a storm is named to when it degrades into a minor tropical depression (hopefully far out at sea).  Ophelia, subnormal that she is, has already been with us 10 days and has only traveled about 300 miles.  So I wondered if she was on her way to setting a new longevity record.  Turns out, she's not even close. 

In 1971, Hurricane Ginger formed a few hundred miles east of Nassau.  She drifted slowly eastward and got about halfway to Europe before it occurred to her that she'd forgotten something.  So, she turned around and headed west again, where she made landfall as a Category 1 storm in North Carolina.  Her lifespan...a stunning 28 days.  Imagine the weather forecasters trying to call this one.  Let me say again that she went HALFWAY TO EUROPE before reversing.  The meteorologists must have thought their instruments were broken.  When in fact it was just that God had gotten into some really bad moonshine.

Exit, stage right

As many of you already know, beleaguered FEMA chief Michael Brown resigned today.  I wish him luck in his future endeavors ("Would you like an apple or cherry pie with that?").  This is probably about as close to accountability (let alone an apology) as anyone is going to get for the spectacularly bungled relief effort in the Gulf. 

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Applause, by the way, to Shaquille O'Neal and his wife for rolling up their sleeves (literally) to provide first-hand aid to the victims of Hurricane Katrina. 

Also to Al Gore, who chartered an airlift of 270 Katrina victims out of the danger zone.

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But, lest you worry that the tradition of carpetbagging is dead, noted Scientologists John Travolta and Kelly Preston are using the disaster as an opportunity to gain new recruits. 
     Scientology -- Confusing Spirituality and Science Fiction for Over 50 Years. 

A question of empathy

Among the many things called into question by the government's response to the Hurricane Katrina disaster--including bureaucratic delays, the responsibility and role of FEMA, etc.--is President Bush's apparent lack of empathy for those suffering most severely (and most visibly) from the storm's after-effects (i.e., the poor).

I submit that it isn't his fault. 

I believe that our President suffers from a clinical disorder characterized by the inability to feel empathy.  In his mind, "If it isn't happening to me, it isn't happening."   This certainly goes a long way toward explaining the awkward asides, mis-statements, and seeming unwillingness to "feel" that America may have lost as many as 10,000 of its citizens.  Tax payers.  Families.  And dare I say it, Christians.  How else could one so obsessed with "the culture of life" fail to acknowledge so much death?  For the record, Clinton would have wept, and sent in the Marines in the same breath.

Many who voted for Mr. Bush believe him to be a "plain speaker,"  and I suppose that compared to John Kerry, he is.  Then again, compared to John Kerry, most of us would be.  But the fatal error is to assume that Mr. Bush's "style" is like that of Harry Truman.   The difference of course is that Mr. Truman actually SAID something when he spoke.  Mr. Bush, if anyone has any doubts, is NOT the author of his own ideas.  He reads what's on the cue cards.  I can only imagine the terror his handlers express when he attempts to speak off the cuff.   Or, may the fates help us, when he attempts to make a joke.

Bu I digress.

We are talking here, not about a monster.  Not even a selfish, spoiled, prep-school jerk.  Or even a dry drunk.  We are talking about someone who CANNOT experience empathy.  Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum seems to have the same disorder.  He recently suggested that people who could or would not evacuate a disaster zone be "penalized."  Which raises an interesting question.  How does one penalize a group of people who've lost their homes, their jobs, and all sense of hope?  I suppose we could always ignore their pleas for food and water. 

Oh, right, we did that already.

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Please aid the victims of Hurricane Katrina.  Give to the Red Cross or other charity organization. 

The Nature of the Beast

It is at strange moments that we tend to reflect on our nature as humans.  New Year's is one such time, funerals are another.  Also on birthdays and during natural disasters. 

I spent a good deal of my birthday today watching the increasingly dismal news feeds coming out of flood-tortured New Orleans.  Of course, there were the air rescues, which always make for dramatic images.  But also, and more compellingly, the personal stories.  The families torn apart.  The desperate pleas to locate lost loved ones.  The looting and shooting.  The roving gangs and carjackings.  The woman walking along the road with her 5-month-old baby, just walking out of town, not knowing where to go or what else to do.  And now reports that several people in the Superdome committed suicide by jumping off the upper levels.

Truly a portrait of human desperation and human character...at both its best and worst. 

And for some reason the thought that popped into my head was from one of those party games...those ethics quizzes we give each other when we've had a few beers.  For example: Say you had a parent who was dying of cancer...and you could cure them simply by pushing a button...but in so doing you would cause the immediate deaths of 10 people whom you'd never met or heard of, in a country you never planned to visit (say China)...would you do it?

Now this isn't a poll, and I don't expect you to answer.  Fact is, most people would answer no (especially in a public forum such as this), and of those, about half would push the button and not tell anyone.  But the question and its many dynamics fascinate me. 

In the coming days, as the situation along the Gulf Coast unfolds, we will hear amazing tales of altruism and caring, and parallel stories of selfishness, greed, and predation.  Tho I cannot say what (if any) lessons will come from this....any more than I can say we as a species learned anything from the Galveston flood of 1900...I can assure you only of one thing: that we will be awed, sickened, and inspired by our very nature.
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For those who may want to help victims of Hurricane Katrina, you can visit the Red Cross web page and make an online donation or call 1-800-HELP NOW.