Fire in my belly

When I was younger, I wondered---and I don't mean in a blithe, Doris Day que sera sera way---what my life would be. I knew, from early childhood, that I had a fire in my belly. As I learned about the marches on Washington, the war protests, the womens movement and watched much of this happen, I thought, it will all be settled by the time I'm old enough to do anything about it.

Ah naivete.

I feared I would have nothing left to do, nowhere to use this fire in my belly.

It spurred me on in life, that fire.

And now it has found an outlet.

I am mad, very, very mad now. I have seen a city (cities reall) destroyed, sucked under water and watched a government stand by---their biggest action pointing fingers about who is to blame. Ultimately, it will all rest with Mother Nature I am sure.

Sure, she sent the hurricane, but that wasn't the biggest killer.

Immobilization was.

Disorganization was.

Funding cuts were.

Too much manpower abroad was.

And so on.

There is a need. There is a huge, yawning chasm of need.

I want to yell SHUT UP. Just SHUT UP and do something.

Instead, I'll take advantage of the vacuum and step in with the rest of the average joes and team up to do what we must continue doing: helping the people and the region.

I won't go on about the Bill Maher article, the Rosa Clemente report, and so on that depict the so-called help as being practically inhumane in its so-called distribution.

I'll simply say these are people. They need. Let's go.

By Julie Pippert
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