Wednesday

Ever since Katrina, there are times when I'm taking a sip of water or over-eating, gorging or throwing out food or looking at food on the shelves . . . I think of how much this sip or this scrap...whatever it is...a handful of Cheez-its or a few spoonfuls of cous cous or rice or a half bottle of beer or plate of lettuce and sliced tomatoes or a piece of pizza with two bites taken out of it . . . how much it would be desired, fought over, cried for, begged, desperately gobbled guzzled craved - in New Orleans right after Hurricane Katrina went through...I'm not joking. The memory of this event, Hurricane Katrina, is implanted and interwoven and associated (at times) with my act of eating and drinking and even seeing food or smelling it or hearing it being prepared...or the sound of a bottle cap twisting off a beer or just about anything (at times, not all the time). I don't know if this is a prayer or a reflection or a connection with the world or guilt or an acknowledgment of the relative comfort and ease of my life compared to others. And now I'm getting those same kind of haunting feelings about Haiti. I could point out all of the inequities and atrocities and absurdities of the situation that have been pointed out over and over, but I just wonder how these things affect us as individuals, like psychologically.