It's that time of year when everybody can sense that summer is slipping away. People are liable to suddenly disappear for little vacations; soon, many will go to Burning Man. It's an easy time to feel left behind. Every summer, I wave to my children as they leave on long trips back east, where the air is humid and the ice cream cool and fresh. I'm quite familiar with the feeling of driving home from SFO alone in my empty car.
The real trouble starts when the fog sets in here. All of a sudden, I feel terribly sad and cold. No amount of clothing can warm me up, only another warm body at night. Then, the fog cannot reach us. But, when alone, I shiver, even under heavy covers, until I slip into another fitful sleep, visiting by dragons and demons night after night.
So, I'm terrible at transitions. The moment you tell me you are leaving is as bad as it must have been when I was a little kid. Why?
I have no idea why I am this way.
***
We are approaching a heavy anniversary date in a few days -- the date Katrina blew a huge whole in the American Gulf Coast. In Mississippi and Louisiana, residents are organizing events to mark this tragic aniversary. Rebuilding proceeds, but at a painfully slow pace. Volunteers are often discouraged, as they encounter personal and political limitations to getting the right things done right.
I had a long talk with a resident the other day, who said she was worried about the volunteeers trying to help her and her group almost as much as she worried about the people who had lost their homes. "They need to take care of themselves, too," is how she put it.
Self-sacrificing is honorable. Ultimately reaching the point where you might have a breakdown is not. I hope all the special volunteers are watching out for one another, and encourage each other to takes breaks from the work, get sopme R&R.
The work will still be there when you return...
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