Enough is enough.

I thought I hit my limit yesterday at the gym. During the lunch hour rush, there were two empty treadmills: one, in front of a TV monitor covering US Open and the other, news on Hurricane Katrina. I chose the news. I couldn’t care less for tennis.

I chose poorly.

The feature was on mothers being separated from their newborns during the evacuation of New Orleans. One moment I was running at a steady pace, jaw clenched, eyes transfixed on the screen above me and the next, feet planted on the sides of the treadmill, doubled over, hand covering my mouth sobbing. Right there in front of everyone. I hit the emergency stop button and ran for the locker room.

In the face of all the media coverage, I’ve felt overwhelmed, angry, heartbroken and helpless. Mostly helpless. And I am consumed by it. Get me in front of a computer and I will refresh CNN.com until my index finger goes numb. I will stop in front of every TV screen and stare. I will be unable to go to a party and talk about anything else. I will have nightmares about drowning babies.

After yesterday’s breakdown at the gym, I thought I had learned my lesson about over consumption. But this morning, I was back to my old ways. First thing, I fired up the laptop and started watching CNN news clips. Cue the nausea. I made a dash for the bathroom and as I hovered over the toilet, I decided that enough was finally enough. It is one thing to be informed, but it is quite another to be obsessed — especially with something so powerful and disturbing. It’s taking its toll.

Like most people who are concerned, but so far removed, I’ve struggled with the What can I do? question. The answer has been, Donate. I don’t live an extravagant lifestyle — despite any misinformation to the contrary. I’m a fierce budgeter. So, when news of Hurricane Katrina rolled in, I did some fierce re-budgeting and parted with what few indulgences made up the left-hand column of my excel spreadsheet. I gave up my cab money (I have a MetroCard, I should use it) and then my bi-monthly pedicure fund. It’s not a lot, but it’s something.

Still, I don’t feel any less helpless. And I know that my own unrest is only a fraction of what others are feeling. My recent CNN obsession hasn’t been any help to alleviate it, so I’ve begun making plans. Plans that no longer involve places like Barcelona in the fall. Instead, when Habitat for Humanity sees fit to open the area to volunteers, I hope to be there. Will physical labor make me feel any more helpful? I don’t know for certain.

But even if all I do is drive a few nails, it will be one concrete step toward making a difference.

From Intern Amy:

Thank you for all your calls and emails. The communication black hole doesn’t help much during this unimaginable disaster. It is really hard to see these images on TV of the city I grew up in.

….at night I have been volunteering with the Red Cross at LSU’s temporary Triage Center, which facilitates medical needs before the disabled are transported to other shelters around the country.

….we will rebuild New Orleans again. Though this disaster is something I never want to remember, this past week has been filled with experiences and emotions I will never forget.

Just a reminder: Tomorrow night, I will be joining my friend Tanya for her Hurricane Relief Event. She’s really gone to a lot of effort and word has it, it’s made the Daily News.

If you can spare some time and some cash, drop on by. All donations go to the American Red Cross for victims of Hurricane Katrina.

When: Thursday, September 8, 6-8 p.m.

Where: Stitch Bar – 247 West 37th St.
between 7th and 8th Ave.
UPSTAIRS.

UPDATE: The night was a success! I heard we raised a good chunk of change (to be doubled by matched donations) to be donated to the Red Cross. For pictures and recaps from Miss Tanya’s Hurricane Relief Event see:

Miss Tanya

Benjamin Wagner

Mindi

Curly

Torrie

“So, I guess that means dinner is a no.”

I was lying across the bed, toes curled on the dormer windowsill, hair still wet from the shower when the phone rang. Unwilling to sit up in order to answer, I fanned my arms out until my fingertips made contact with my cell phone. Lazy, I know. I was reveling in my vacation stupor. It was late Sunday afternoon when Wes called and I was sunburned, well-fed and miles away from New York City. And I had an armory of stories from my last minute New England getaway. There was a sunny cliff walk, big, family style dinners, futbol and even a picnic polo match.

“Polo? Are you trying to out-snob me?”
“I think it would be impossible to out-snob a European. But nonetheless, it was pretty intense.”

Polo was not quite the highbrow affair I’d have thought. Not that there weren’t a handful of people in silly lobster embroidered outfits, but for the most part, the US v England match was about beer cooked onions and bratwurst, candied apples and one amusingly drunk commentator from across the pond.

Then there was stomping the divots. What could be more far removed from my everyday life than stomping divots at a polo match? It was all very Pretty Woman. I couldn’t have been more thrilled, though secretly, I wished I’d worn a fancy hat and something with Swiss dots.

I heard the slap of bare feet on the floor outside and a knock at the door.

“Get up! We’re going fishing in like, five minutes.”

I promised to catch-and-release and said goodbye, grabbed my flip-flops and a sweater and joined Stephanie, Phil and the others downstairs for some sunset fishing. A dozen of us spent the evening spinning yarns and swapping playful insults. Nothing goes so well with night fishing as busting chops. When we returned a few hours later, we’d caught nothing but mosquito bites, seaweed and the sunset. It was absolutely perfect.

The trip had been unplanned and I’d almost declined the invitation. I hadn’t packed. Who would feed the Sir Hal? The excuses could have been endless. But on Sunday night, when dinner had wrapped up and we were scrunched onto the living room sofa attacking the crossword puzzle (eight heads are better than one), I was so glad I’d not made them.

Thanks to Ari for some last minute pet sitting. All photos by Stephanie and Phil. No fish were harmed during the making of this post (except for the ones we used for bait but I had nothing to do with that).

From Miss Tanya’s Hurricane Relief Event:

If you’ve watched TV or looked at a newspaper over the past few days, I don’t need to tell you how bad this is. It’s really, really bad. I keep thinking back to how the whole country rallied around NYC during 9/11, and now it’s time to return the favor.

A mere $10 gets you a drink and automatic entry into a raffle for gift cards, clothing, CDs, books, and a host of other prizes

We’ll also be passing the hat for additional donations, so drink up and loosen your purse strings. All proceeds will go to the American Red Cross and AmeriCares specifically for Hurricane Katrina relief.

Bring some friends, make it a post-work hang, or just throw your money in the kitty and leave. Look, you’re going to drink anyway…might as well put that $10 to good use as well.

When: Thursday, September 8, 6-8 p.m.

Where: Stitch Bar – 247 West 37th St.
(between 7th and 8th Ave.)

If you get a chance, please stop by. If you can’t, please know there are many ways to help. The link in the post below can help you find the best way to do that.

Hope to see you Thursday.