UPDATE: Here’s a list of links for donations and information about the aftermath. I’ll try to post more Mississippi- and Louisiana-specific sites for shelter, medical help, and emergency assistance as I find them.
I can’t look at the TV any longer. There are images–a man wading desolately through broken wood and murky puddles in Gulfport; water covering what used to be Highway 90; Jim Cantore, with his smug I-told-you-so swagger, standing in front of the ruins of a casino; a young man splashing through four feet of water in New Orleans; a bird’s-eye view of what used to be the Mississippi Gulf Coast, of water covering what used to be roads I’ve driven on in New Orleans;–that I can’t get out of my head.
I can’t listen to the radio any more. Governor Haley Barbour just keeps telling me what I already know, with even less articulation than I could muster. Local newsfolk at least have the sense to tell us where we can offer volunteer help and how to donate blood and funds, but it’s been nonstop. That’s as it should be, of course, but I can’t listen any more.
But I can read. And you should, too:
Two New Orleans lovers, S. Frederick Starr and Josh Levin write moving, unsentimental elegies to the town they love.
A distant relative of mine, Anita Lee, reports from Biloxi.
The Clarion-Ledger reports that my favorite Mississippi town, and my friend Traveling Tom’s former place of residence, is essentially gone.
And last, but never least, Terry Teachout and Our Girl in Chicago do God’s work, providing links to blogs and sites that are updated with far greater frequency than you’ll see here.
Thanks to everyone who has emailed, called, or left comments here enquiring about my status. I’m fine, and grateful that things aren’t worse than they are.