Everything I need to know I Iearned in Kindergarten, right?

Do you remember that book, the self help bestseller of a decade or so ago - All I really need to know I learned in Kindergarten? It was written by a Unitarian minister, Rober Fulghum, and was filled with simple kid themed ideas with which to guide your life: share everything, play fair, hold hands and stick together, etc.

At the time it came out, I thought it was cute but rather laughably simplistic. I, of course, had moved far beyond schoolyard politics - or so I thought. How then can it be that at the ripe old age of - almost - 43, I feel like I'm suddenly marooned again in the corner of the playground, the butt of whispered laughter and pointing fingers?

The neighborhood situation - which I have discussed in earlier posts - has suddenly bubbled over into a burning sticky mess. DeeDee and Jeff have decided that I am Enemy Number One, the Wicked Witch of the West - and I'm not talking any fun Broadway musical witch, either. It makes no sense - but when has common sense had anything to do with it? I now understand why four families have chosen to move rather than deal with them. The rest of the neighborhood knows that they're crazy and say they don't believe any of the gossip they're attempting to spread about us .... but it's amazing the level of fear and paranoia that can be spread by two unbalanced people in a small, enclosed community.

So now my boys cannot play with DeeDee and Jeff's children across the street and vice versa. And the other moms in the neighborhood seem to be studiously avoiding our house in their round robin of playdates. They were already avoiding DeeDee and Jeff's - but what has happened to us? Have we somehow been tainted by the whole brouhaha?

I couldn't believe that I was actually brought to tears yesterday to hear the neighborhood kids all laughing at a playdate next door - while mine sat inside, alone. Suddenly I was back at school again: the smell of floor wax and chalkdust, the taste of pb&j on my lips, the echoey sound of kids footsteps running down empty hallways. There I was, on the edge of the playground, desperate to have someone to play with. The loneliness, the pain, the feeling of utter unwantedness. A tiny unformed kernel that I would never let them hurt me quite this badly ever again, tasting bitter, so bitter, in my mouth.

Was it the pain of my children's rejection that upset me so much yesterday? I really don't think they minded all that much. After all, Spongebob was on tv. They didn't even notice that Mommy was crying. Or was it really me? Was this really all about me and the fact that forty odd years later, I am still struggling to understand that there will always be children who either cannot or will not learn the true lessons of kindergarten.

To play fair. To share your toys. And most importantly, to hold hands and stick together - no matter what happens.

Faking fate

This is how it goes. Husband gets invited to conference. Tells wife. Wife is unhappy but hides it well. Husband explains how incredibly important this conference is to his career and he won't enjoy a minute of it- especially the part of being away from the loving embrace of his family. Wife feels guilty for feeling angry about this. Husband tells wife - over his shoulder as he exits the room - that he'll only be gone three days and will be staying at an exclusive resort on a Tucson golf course, complete with spa and Kobe beef dinners. Wife throws glass at his disappearing back.

I'm sure there are some wives who are happy to see the back of their husbands. I don't happen to be one of them. Not only because I love my husband - which I do - but mainly because that means that I have one less pair of hands to help run this ship that we call home. And I'm not talking about a captain swanning around on the foredeck - I'm talking about some navvie to help me swab the latrines.

Stuart leaves tomorrow for a two day trip to deal with a family emergency in Indiana, returns for two days and then departs again for the aforementioned Westward Look Resort Tucson. This means that - except for the days in which I get help from Alison - I will be 24/7 with the little hoodlums - sorry, dears. This would be difficult under normal circumstances, but since when do things run normally when they really need to? First off, Matti takes sick. The weekend is off to a great start with an early Saturday morning dash to the doctor. Earache? Molars coming in? No, he has hand, foot and mouth disease. Dash home. Adminster tylenol, cold soda, and Dora the Explorer. Ben starts to feel feverish. More tylenol and popsicles. Stuart, stressed out, has headed off to the office to tidy up loose ends before his trip. I move from sick child to cranky child, attempting to tidy the house and fold laundry at the same time. Fun! Then I check my email. Crazy lady from across the street has decided to go ballistic on me. Accusations fly. Epithets scream at me from computer desktop. One of the nicer things she says is that I should get a life. I pause and look around at the ruins of my living room, and feel a distinct ache begin to pound from one of my back teeth - maybe I shouldn't have cancelled that dentist's appointment after all.

Doesn't she realize that I have a life - and, quite frankly, on day's like this she's welcome to it?

This always seems to happen to us. Stuart leaves on a trip, and suddenly ants infest the house, the van breaks down and the water heater explodes. Plagues and locusts are no doubt on the horizon. The only thing we can do is try and hoodwink destiny. Fake out the Fates. Have Stuart plan the trip, book the tickets, but secretly plan to go on the following weekend. That way, when food poisoning turns our living room into the pea soup scene from the Exorcist, Stuart can return from his unneccesary trip to the airport - never having intended to get on a plane anyway.

And be ready to swab out those latrines.

My to do list

, originally uploaded by kimhs.

This I believe

This I believe. It was a radio show in the 1950's, one in which people - both famous and not - discussed what essential truth they believed in and how it guided their lives. NPR has revived it with weekly on air essays. The first time I heard the show I thought, Hmmm, what do I believe? There were a number of ideas to pick from:

I believe that the slice of bread with jam on it - when it slips from my hand - will always fall jam side down on to the floor.

I believe that no matter which line I pick in the grocery store, it will never end up being the quickest line.

I believe that - no matter how stunning you may be - it is physically impossible to get a flattering driver's licence photo.

What do you think? NPR had some great essays on this theme, examining everything from the power of love through to the concept that you should always go to the funeral. Some really good stuff.

So, flippancy aside, what then did I truly believe?

These runimations coincided with a phone conversation with a very dear friend of mine in Vancouver. After watching the images coming out of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast, she was heartbroken and depressed at the inhumanity of it all. How, she wondered, could this happen here? And how could we, as a society, let it happen?

After I hung up, I realized that, somewhat quixotically, I suddenly knew what it was that I believed.

I believe in the goodness of mankind.

Okay, I know I probably don't strike you as a glass half full kind of person. This kind of a revelation in the midst of a hellish disaster doesn't seem to make much sense, but just hear me out.

Yes, it is a basic truism that difficult times show us both the best and the worst of mankind. It is true that there were armed gangs, murderers, and rapists in the hellhole that was the Superdome. It is also true that in those first few days, almost the entirety of search and rescue activities were being undertaken by individuals - many of whom had stolen boats - risking their own lives in an attempt to save the lives of complete strangers. Eighty percent of the New Orleans police force was made homeless when the levees broke, and yet almost 1,500 officers stayed on duty round the clock in order to try and protect their citizens.

Was there looting and anarchy in the streets? Yes. But those streets were the same places from which salvation arrived, in the person of volunteers who brought in food, water and clothing. In Waveland, Mississippi several days after Katrina hit, people were being fed not by FEMA, but by good samaritans who stocked up their trucks in Alabama and just headed for the coast.

Yes, even in the midst of chaos, I do believe that people are basically good. Time after time throughout my life I've trusted to this somewhat pollyannaish ideal, and I've rarely been proven wrong. Tonight on televisions across America every major network is showing the same thing - not a blockbuster movie or the final of American Idol - but a telethon to raise funds for the victims of Katrina. There are many reasons for heartache now, but a loss of faith in humanity? No.

This I believe.

"I believe that man will not merely endure, he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone amongst creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul - a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance." - William Faulkner

American Red Cross

American Red Cross, originally uploaded by kimhs.

Humane Society

Humane Society, originally uploaded by kimhs.

Priorities

Priorities. We all have them. Those daily choices we make in our lives. To eat the cheesecake, to not eat the cheesecake - that is the question. Choices. Do I stay here and listen to my two year old son scream bloody murder, or do I go upstairs, grab my passport, and head for Rio? Although there are many times when I feel like doing the latter, I somehow always end up waking up the next morning in my 4 bedroom colonial in New Hampshire. No Samba on Copacabana Beach for me.

But enough about my own personal priorities. Let's look at the priorities of our president. The war in Iraq - that obviously comes at the top of his list. As does everthing neccesary to fund this effort - whether that be money, troops, or supplies. And - if you leave out the whole "quagmired in Iraq" and "1800 dead" thing - everything was hunky dory.

Until Katrina. With a massive natural disaster on American soil, the president's priorities became glaringly, maddeningly clear. Where are the troops to assist the injured? In Iraq. Where are the medical corps with their mobile MASH unit hospitals, indispensable due to the destruction of New Orleans hospitals? In Iraq. Where are the funds that should have been using by the Army Corps of Engineers to finish supporting the levee around New Orleans?

Yes, I think you get my drift.

A large section of Lousiana and Mississippi now resembles something out of Somalia. I heard on NPR this morning that a survivor of the tsunami in Sri Lanka said that their conditions after their disaster actually looked to be better than those in New Orleans. So much for being a first world nation.

Priorities, Mr. President. Whether it be Hurricane Katrina, or an earthquake in San Francisco or a nuclear or bioterror attack somewhere on American soil - you made your choice to limit the supports that were available for your own citizens in order to fund and further your own political mission in the Middle East. You should be ashamed of yourself.

They say that the South has a very long memory, Mr. President. I don't think they will ever forgive you.

NEW ORLEANS, Louisiana (CNN) -- As his city skidded deeper into chaos, New Orleans' embattled mayor accused federal officials of dragging their feet while people are dying in deplorable conditions.

Mayor Ray Nagin's voice cracked with anger and anguish Thursday night in an interview with New Orleans radio station WWL-AM.

"We're getting reports and calls that [are] breaking my heart from people saying, 'I've been in my attic. I can't take it anymore. The water is up to my neck. I don't think I can hold out.' And that's happening as we speak."

Nagin said the time has long passed for federal authorities to act on their promises.

"You mean to tell me that a place where you probably have thousands of people that have died and thousands more that are dying every day, that we can't figure out a way to authorize the resources that we need? Come on man," he said.

WASHINGTON, Sept 1 (Reuters) - Bush administration funding cuts forced federal engineers to delay improvements on the levees, floodgates and pumping stations that failed to protect New Orleans from Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters, agency documents showed on Thursday.

The former head of the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers, the agency that handles the infrastructure of the nation's waterways, said the damage in New Orleans probably would have been much less extensive had flood-control efforts been fully funded over the years.