Since You Been Gone...

Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Similarly, unlike poor Joe Blanton yesterday, I was not locked in the bathroom for the last couple of weeks either. [LINK TO ARTICLE RE. BLANTON SITUATION HERE/HAVING ISSUES WITH LINKING FUNCTION FROM MY HOME COMPUTER TODAY: http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2005/09/06/AS.TMP&type=as]. While I suppose it was a possibility that I became trapped under some heavy falling furniture in the variety of moves in which I have been a party to in the last couple of weeks (with both my home address and my work address changing - same employer, new digs), that does not explain my absence either.

I have been on vacation.

Where you may ask?

Everywhere.

Nowhere.

Well, just right here.

I basically just pushed the pause button on my life and decided to take a two week breather. So here we are in week 2. Week 1 was excellent as it involved no work of any kind, but it was decidedly lacking in an overall relaxing, recuperative feel as it was alternately spent unpacking all of the boxes that had been sitting in my apartment from my move two weeks prior, and waiting on the arrival of various technical service and/or furniture delivery appointments. All of that being said, I was always able to get to bed at a reasonable hour and pretty much able to get up whenever I liked, and had to respond to nary a hysterical work e-mail, and as far as I am concerned, these days, that is pretty much a slice of heaven.

Of course, I was forcibly unplugged both from TV and internet till last Thursday when my cable/internet guy finally made good on his promises of showing up within that oh-so precise 4 hour window they always give you. And it was only then that I was truly able to see the destruction that Katrina wrought. And I found myself unable to tear my eyes or my heart away from it.

It felt entirely awkward. I had come to the realization of a national disaster three days after the fact. And it felt wrong. So, I suppose, in many ways, I was much like the federal government. I was completely technologically unplugged. Their excuse?

Finger pointing aside, it is a situation which bothers, moves, discomfits, and frightens me in so many ways. Not the least of it being how unmoved daily life on the west coast generally seems to be. Not that I would expect a standstill. Even my paused life didn't stop moving, so to speak. But it bothers me that I could sense the magnitude of the event in the behavior and the sentiment of the passers-by around me. It was the same after 9/11. Even the day of, people going about their business - at the bank, at the dry cleaners, at the gym - even the day of. As though nothing had happened. Life goes on. But must the dry-cleaning be picked up, without reservation, today?

It is survival instinct of course. A collective, "It hasn't happened here. Thank God it hasn't happened here. My heart breaks for them. But lucky for me, I can still go to Safeway" kind of moment. And the outpouring of generosity that I read about on a daily basis do continue to amaze me. But the immediate reaction never ceases to shock the senses like ice-cold water. I suppose, for Californians especially, this is rooted in the unavoidable concept that, in fact, we are next. Someday that will be us. And the relief efforts will be directed our way, and it will be at the same time astounding and overwhelming, incredibly generous and yet, not nearly enough. And the horror is too much to think about. And so we put it away.

I am not above this fray. I do it too. But it bothers.

With 9/11, I felt the distress in a way that I don't think resonated out here. Most of my classmates from college were working on Wall Street. My S.O. and his family lived in the Jersey burbs at the time. I was supposed to be on the SF to Newark flight at 7 am 9/12. I was tracking people down. I was frightened half to death. I was incredulous. I could not believe. I would not, could not, stop watching CNN for days, weeks.

And I just didn't know how everyone else around me just went on. But I understand it was not as immediate. Time, distance, naturally removed them.

Here, with Katrina, I see the disaster and the scenes of devastation and suffering make tears well and frustration and sadness inevitably pool. The loss of human life and the suffering that has replaces it, are truly staggering. And it tears at one's insides. But I cannot feel the disaster, as I feel I should, because I never had the pleasure of going to New Orleans. I have never actually seen it, other than in its current state. I do not, and will not (no matter how much reading I do) have a full appreciation for all that was lost - the architecture, the culture, the magic, the je ne sais quoi and the l'aissez bon temps roulez shrugs and knowing looks, the innocence, the confidence, the belief. These things, even when the city is rebuilt, will never be the same. To know them, is to miss them.

I will never know. And so for the magic, as well as the people, I mourn.