Meanwhile the world continues to be at war (Middle East and Spain particularly), the Dotard-in-Chief continues to try to distract a gullible public and media from the heinous things going on in Washington DC, and natural disasters attack everywhere. In decreasing order of devastation, Puerto Rico, the Caribbean, Florida and Ireland are hit by hurricanes: the former is still reeling. In today's news, US Government agencies are still fighting over the contracts being awarded in the recovery effort. At the same time, per one news source:
- Nearly 50 days after Hurricane Maria made landfall, more than half of Puerto Rico is still powerless.
- Officials warn it could be weeks or months before all power is restored.
- Thousands have left the island for the U.S. mainland in the wake of the storm.
Often, the first I hear about a tragedy is via social media, and that makes it personal. JMR posted an "I'm safe" message in the wake of last week's NYC shooting, and added, I'm not in that area, but not everyone knows that, and I wrote back, you could have been passing through! This week I was texting with friends about my day, and P suddenly texted, oh shit, another mass shooting. This one was in a small town church in Texas. So, both size and location of targets seem totally random. How can we prevent these attacks? London has a solution...maybe.
.A few days ago, as I left the Tate Modern for a late afternoon stroll down the Thames, I was struck by the number of yellow-jacketed London City police milling about under the Millennium Bridge and talking to people. I paused, and one tall young blue-eyed cop handed me a flyer and engaged me in a long conversation, explaining that they were part of a community policing program called Servator that is "starting today and here to stay." It's London's response to the various terrorist attacks. They send out plain clothes police to suss out high risk areas like the Tate, which is iconic, next to an iconic bridge and an iconic historic site (the Globe Theatre), and filled to bursting with kids and tourists. If the plain clothes cops deem it necessary, the more visible yellow coats appear, establishing a presence, chatting up civilians and asking them to tweet about Servator or report anything suspicious, and generally making it clear to potential terrorists that this is no place to be (also making it difficult for them to plan an attack.) I was not reassured to find that I was in a Condition Yellow environment and that every person around me was a possible threat. Nor do I think this is a solution to our daily state of terror, especially since so many attacks seem personal and small. But I don't know what the solution is. Hopefully, things like Servator are there to appease the public (we're doing something, you can help), and there is something more robust in place or being planned.
The train system has a similar campaign with a more catchy slogan: "See it, say it, sorted!" But, sorting something is a little less scary: it implies a lost kid, a passed-out bum, an abandoned bag. It's potentially life-threatening for the kid and the bum, potentially a bomb in the bag, but most likely just a nuisance or a scare, easily handled by the proper authorities.
Then, there are the fires in California. Just a few months ago, I was happily exploring the wine country and beaches near Santa Rosa, living in a beautiful home with a lush back yard and a park nearby. Rudy the cutie and I took two daily walks around the middle-class neighborhood, replete with beautiful homes and gardens, kids with a water stand, and fellow dog-walkers. I left happy, giving and receive a 5-star review on the Trusted Housesitters website, and occasionally thinking fondly back to my Very First Housesit. However.... Just a few weeks ago, I receive another text from my wide-awake NM friend, "Santa Rosa's on fire." I check the news and the maps: my 2-week home is right on the edge of a major burn. I call J in nearby Petaluma: they are fine, except for the smoke, but her sister and partner have been evacuated from their Santa Rosa home and are staying with her; no one knows about their home. I write to J, my host and Rudy's mom: are you okay? No answer. A few days later, I start looking up her Facebook friends and writing to those who seem most likely to have news and not be affected themselves. Finally, two weeks later, I try again and get an immediate response: the gent's wife is in communication, all is well with J. Huge relief! And I send off a message and post two haiku to FB. It's all I can do at this distance.
I feel so helpless, and conversely so blessed. I am miles away from the trauma, which means that I can do nothing to help, but also means that so far I am safe. Fortunately, the people dear to me remain safe as well. But, for how long?
Small words, private and personal and social, are all I seem to have. The larger stage and the actions are beyond me. If it's true that "holding" people is an answer, then my arms must be spread wide to embrace a globe. But it's too big for me. I return to the small and personal; it will have to be enough:
In tragedy's wake,
Why expect empathy from
A sociopath?
Is this what they mean
by tears of joy? So relieved
All are safe and well. #SantaRosafire
To J: I have been following the news and studying maps and worrying
so much about you and Rudy. Finally I started reaching out to your
Facebook family. My apologies for the stalking behavior, but I had to
know you were okay. SN came through this morning with the good
news that you and your home made it through, and the bad news that your
worksite and neighbors were damaged. I will continue to hold you and
yours in my thoughts during this difficult time.
fyi, right
now I'm in Bath, England. I love this place! I spent September in the
Dartmoor area and have since been wandering the countryside with a home
base in London with my cousins. This is my first cat-only sit, and it
feels weird to not have a required walk in my near future. But, of
course, I'll be going out even without the dog imperative.
Note: (J was watching last season's final episode on my 1st night in her home.)
