Good Morning.
Labor Day is supposed to honor people who work hard and need a long weekend to rest up a bit, but this particular holiday seems to take on new meaning in light of the recent hurricane. Over the past week in Texas, there have been people doing unimaginable, back-breaking things just because they felt compelled to do so and without a cent of compensation. I'm thinking now of a human chain link in waist-high water that rescued an old guy from his car and people patrolling the neighborhoods in any sort of watercraft so they can pull people from their porches and windows and trees. I was glued to the television when helicopters hovered over rooftops and crew members hoisted baskets with a homeowner and his or her child or the family pet to safety.
I saw a deer and a pig being taken to higher ground. I saw nursing homes and a hospital evacuated under impossible conditions. I saw pictures of National Guard personnel sleeping in a school corridor after working a twenty hour day. I watched footage of hundreds of volunteers serving meals and comforting frightened children in shelters. I watched as trucks filled with supplies came across the border from Mexico. "Neighbors help neighbors," they said to a country that is determined to put up a wall to keep them out when they're not, well, neighbors.
For a few inspiring moments, however, in the wake of this terrible catastrophe, there were no problems with prejudice of any kind. Everyone got along, everyone was equal for a change and in my view, a pleasant one. The only thing that mattered was if you needed help, if you needed to be rescued from the raging water on what used to be your front lawn, if you required medical attention or a hot meal. If you were elderly or handicapped, you were treated with special care. If you were an infant, you were held with tenderness by a stranger. It didn't matter one itty bit what color you were, what faith you preferred, or how much money you had. It didn't matter if the house you were frantically waving a white towel from was a mansion or a something the size of a doll house.
I liked the character and soulfulness I saw in Texas this past week, despite the terrible circumstances that revealed it. I
liked the setting aside of old grudges and suspicions. I liked the way animals were treated. I liked the fact that the only thing that mattered was human life, not all the stuff we have in our homes, but just people, stripped down to nothing but everything in spite of it.
Tomorrow the president will announce if he is rescinding the DACA program. He he does so, hundreds of thousands of
well-intentioned people who came to this country under less than ideal circumstances but at no fault of their own will be kicked out of the United States. These children of illegal immigrants have gone through our school systems with many now holding a college degree. They work in every conceivable kind of job and contribute to their communities. One is a police officer who rescued people all last week at great peril to himself. The dreamers do not take this country for granted the way many of us do, and if they're shipped out of here to appease the lesser angels among us, I'm gonna be mad as hell.
Best regards,
Elisabeth
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