Lois Lowry's Blog
I have just picked up Alfie from being bathed and groomed...not naming names, but the first groomer turned him down, saying "Too matted, I'd have to shave him"..and the second greeted him warmly, no comments about his Bad Hair, and did a great job cleaning him up:
I will say this, though: during this one day I have taken my dog for a pricey spa job; and I complained because the guy who is going to re-tile a bathroom floor called to postpone; and I took a steak out of the freezer for dinner; and I just said "Bye, thanks" to my cleaning lady; and I answered an email from my son who is in Florida for a few days ...and...and...and... fill in the blanks. I lead a very privileged, fortunate life. It is particularly apparent right now, as I see the contrast with Haiti and what the victims there are enduring. It makes a dog hair-do almost obscene.
I could add that I did go on line and sent a large donation to Paul Farmer's medical organization in Haiti. But it seems meaningless, almost. Drop in the bucket. But let us hope that there are many, many such drops and that all together we can be of some help.
I don't know anyone in Haiti. A few years ago, I did know someone who lost his son and soon-to-be daughter-in-law, who were spending Christmas in Thailand, celebrating their engagement, when the tsunami struck. My friend went there in the aftermath but was never able to find their bodies. What he found—an image that has stayed with me—was HAPPY CHRISTMAS I LOVE YOU, written in shaving cream on the bathroom mirror of their hotel room.
In the enormity of catastrophe it is always the one small image—the abandoned doll, the half-eaten cookie, the lost shoe—that stays with us, that says a valuable life ended here. It was true of Pompeii, of Hiroshima, of Dachau. Now: Port-au-Prince.