Japan

The word devastation is bandied around with little regard for its real meaning. Whether it's related to a bounced check as in, "Ooohhh, I told her not to cash that until Friday!" or, "I thought I could make it to the gas station, I can't believe I had to call Triple A to take me three blocks!" At the time, those situations truly seem devastating. But after watching Diane Sawyer on the Evening News in her neat fitting, all-weather jacket and rumpled blond hair, touch the round-faced children of Japan like Mother Teresa or Princess Diana would were they still alive, left me in a whirlwind. Taking me to a dimension string theorists have yet to discover. I was not prepared. My insides continue to scream, "What Happened?"

A record breaking earthquake which touched off a tsunami, which led to nuclear reactors melting down, leading to the evacuation of towns, causing other towns to wash away. Now the people. Alerted not to come outside, others in lines for food, their friends and neighbors in line for gas (just in case they were told to evacuate, difficult to accomplish without gas). People in yellow protective suits, others holding up worn pictures of the missing, some wearing white face masks. Rescue workers from New Zealand helping out when they were on the receiving end of relief less than a month ago.

The biggest devastation for most of us will be the realization that we are indeed one big community after all. The word world is the culprit. It makes us believe that this is all very big, and what happens over there can not possibly touch us over here. However, those age old tricky substances water and air connect us. Here in L.A., e-mails were flying, everyone worried that the wind from over there may blow over here, across that wide expanse of water, the Pacific, and the nuclear fall out would reach our shores. If not now with this disaster, can we doubt that there will be another one soon? They are coming faster than we change our sheets. Have we already forgotten about the crude oil pumped into the sea month after month last year? Why are our memories so short? Does it make it easier to focus on that bounced check and the ding-ding of the low fuel reminder? Here's a tip, Mother Earth, Gaia, may be getting a wee-bit exhausted with our hubris. Like any other tired overworked mother, she may just choose to put her slightly swollen feet up on the ottoman, shove a pair of earplugs in and go to sleep for awhile, letting the chips fall where they may. I can't say that I blame her. Sweet dreams.