The weird uncomfortable feeling of waste
When we got back from our walk today Tin was still sleeping in the Ergobaby so I stopped to rock on the porch and watch the mayhem going on with this movie that “Nick” is making here. There are 18 wheelers lined up on the side of the road, there is equipment coming out the wazoo, there are people and cars and dollies and generators and stuff everywhere. I watched the whole enterprise with a wary eye.
Haiti – our brethren are in desperate dire need – and here we are making one more crappy movie and spending a fortune on it.
I just don’t know how to say this – at the risk of sounding trite here in my tower, in this restored city – I love art and believe that art informs us more than the facts really do – and yet I remember when New Orleans was submerged and those of us in the diaspora could not imagine how people were going about their daily lives as our friends and loves ones were in danger, our homes were under water, our way of life was believed to have been extinguished – how could people not drop what they were doing and do something? Do something to make it better.
Now Haiti is in a bad way and yes, you can flash your plastic and send some cash, but how could we really go about this day like any other day, when there they have just had an aftershock almost as big as the first quake and people are dead and bodies are trapped and no one has water or food.
Tin was snug as a bug in the carrier and I was rocking and looking around at all the fuss wondering what it was all about.