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The Charity of the Many

It has been four years since I felt moved by both the pain and the passion of a city. Four years since I sat in front of my television, watched the news, and sobbed. Four years since I sat in the offices of the NYC Transit Riders Council on September 14, 2001, and wrote a letter of resolve in celebration of a citizenry whose unmitigated courage and will to move forward staggered me. It was an organizational response to the aftermath of 9/11, and I was a New Yorker living in Brooklyn, where at one point I had to walk through my neighborhood with a towel over my face to block the stench of the smoke cloud billowing from Lower Manhattan.

I am not a New Orleanian. I have no family on the Gulf Coast. I was not personally in Katrina’s path for a second. And yet, I am in front of my television once again, sobbing, sobbing. And I know I’m not alone.

Katrina is not someone else’s problem anymore. The greatest natural disaster to befall the United States ever, millions of homeless refugees. This is my problem. This is our problem. All of us. The unbearable loss of loved ones and homes and memories. The immeasurable loss of the architectural heritage of what quite likely is the most universally loved city in America. And that is how universal the loss is. If you are reading this, I know you have felt it, too. You are not alone.

And neither is New Orleans. Criticism of the federal response to the disaster aside (and there will be more than enough criticism for it later), there is no criticism for the response of Americans. Local forums, blogs, and Craigslist sites across the Internet are ovewhelmed with offers to house refugees in spare rooms and apartments, to buy clothes, give food, make phone calls, help the resettlement, pay for medical care. It’s astounding and it’s real and it will make a difference and it will save lives.

The resilience and bullheaded fortitude to rebuild their beloved region is there in the heart of every Gulf Coast refugee, every New Orleanian. They should rebuild. That act will help heal not only them and their region, but the hole we all feel right now. Our duty as citizens of this country who are, frankly, dry right now and blessed with the miracles of roof, job, and toilet, is to get those displaced by Katrina through, until they can return to their cities and their lives.

One look at the groundswell of relief rising on the Internet tells me we are all headed in the right direction.

There are links in the right-hand column to places where you can donate money to the relief effort. Do. Some of the resources are matching campaigns and even a dollar can be doubled into two. So, please, do.

And then turn off your television for a while, get off the Internet, go find a loved, cherished friend or family member and hug them for all they’re worth. Go walk in a park with them, go to dinner with them, go celebrate life and love and decompress with them. For we could all use some renewal right now.

God be with us all.

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Mike Doyle

I’m an #OpenlyAutistic gay, Hispanic, urbanist, Disney World fan, New York native, politically independent, Jewish blogger in Chicago. I believe in social justice, big cities, and public transit. I write words and raise money for nonprofits. I’ve written this blog since 2005. And counting...

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