Something different.

I don’t very much like when my online and offline worlds intersect.

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Smarter Than A Fifth Grader?

Yesterday, right after the morning truck went out, we were surprised by a visit from a local news crew, followed by a truck and a small PR crew from an organisation that had donated some 800 pounds of miscellaneous stuff for Haiti.

By the end of the day, the all volunteer crew had sorted through and packaged the useable stuff, and sent the stuff that isn’t needed to a local charity.

The reality is, that much of the stuff people send, while making for a great PR stunt on the local TV, isn’t the stuff that is needed. A *lot* of used clothing would be a great example. It’s heartrending to be the people on the receiving end of the outpouring of generosity, but it’s also time-consuming work to sort through and re-distribute supplies. We’re happy to do the work, but even happier when we receive donations that are needed.

These elementary kids called the office, checked the website, and sent exactly what was needed. This is what I’m talking about.

We’ve sorted through donations from recently acquired medical suppliers getting rid of 5 year old expired stock, kerosene-soaked camping tents, and what looks like people just cleaning out their medicine cabinets and closets. Like I said, we’re happy to have the privilege to serve, but it helps when we feel like our efforts, and yours, are going to the intended recipients.

So that’s my rant for the morning. Here’s a list on the website of what *is* being shipped, but call first, as the website isn’t updated as frequently as conditions and needs change.

anpil bagay – a pile of stuff

you can’t tell me what you feel.

A few months ago, I watched a Lucinda Williams video, and shortly after came up with this rhythm. Now I think of LW every time I play it, and think she could do it right.

basically, the song goes like this. I don’t have words for it, but here’s what I’m thinking.

a rapist on trial and all of his well-connected friends saying he’s suffered enough. The victim is saying to the rapist, I don’t want to hear about your suffering.

And so that’s it.