Em-i-lis

Time 2020-09-19 04:03:00

Web Name: Em-i-lis

WebSite: http://www.em-i-lis.com

ID:51722

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Musings from a furious-but-inspired member of the Resistance I have no uplifting news about Lake Charles, BUT I do have some positive feedback about political fundraising. I assumed I’d miss the Flip the Senate event I got to co-host because it occurred while I was in Louisiana, but fortunately, my phone had enough cellular service that Mom and I snuggled in bed and Zoomed in. It was such a fabulous event. More than 1,100 blue supporters tuned in and raised over $200,000 for the Jaime Harrison, Theresa Greenfield, Steve Bullock, and Barbara Bollier campaigns. It was such an inspiring event- we were especially fired up to hear from Jaime and Theresa. A week later, Tom and I realized we’d both donated to the “Princess Bride Live Read” fundraiser for the Wisconsin Dems. Every original cast member who is still alive, minus Fred Savage, agreed to participate, and the replacement cast for those no longer with us, like Andre the Giant, were terrifically filled (Josh Gad played Fezzik). Tom and I and the boys were still in the midst of the nail-biter US Open men’s final when the show began. So we toggled back and forth for a bit, increasingly immersed in the utterly delightful cast party that was this read-through. As it turned out, thousands upon thousands of folks logged on to watch, and despite the fits and starts of bandwidth and location challenges, it turned out to be the ultimate escapist event of joy, nostalgia, teamwork and memory. And, it raised more than $4.25 MILLION. Mandy Patinkin, oh my heart. He was sweating as he reprised Inigo Montoya.The very next night was the monthly NOPE Neighbors meeting. Each meeting welcomes at least one current candidate for a red-to-blue flippable district, encourages generous donation to said candidate and their co-ballot peers, and educates out the wazoo. Last month we raised more than $20,000 in short order for Elissa Slotkin and the MI slate. But at THIS month’s meeting with Hiral Tiperneni (AZ-6) and Marc Elias of Democracy Docket, we raised more than $75,000 for a large slate of candidates PLUS a slate of protect the vote efforts. Because, HELLO! We desperately need to protect the vote and go blue. So, give what you can, volunteer, engage, help, vote, work at the polls. PLEASE. Everything depends on it. This is the first time I’ve had an ounce of enough mental and emotional bandwidth to sit here since I last wrote. It seems, in some way, oddly appropriate that it’s 9/11 which was, of course, a day of such destruction and loss. So much of Lake Charles looked or was so destroyed after Hurricane Laura; it was much worse than I expected, both at my parents’ home and throughout the city. The tree loss was stunning. Live oaks that have survived countless storms were uprooted and split. Huge pines were keeled over everywhere with their root balls and still-attached circles of earth standing forlornly at attention. Mom and Dad lost all but 3 trees, including the stunning, 30+-year-old Live oak that my grandparents gave them before the house was even built. While Tom and I were in Lake Charles, there was no electricity, minimal cell service, and water was (and remains) boil-only. With the heat index, it was well over 100 every day; four people, that I knew of, died of heat exhaustion during my week in LC. None of us working to pack up and clear out the house ever peed during the day, despite guzzling gallons of water and Gatorade on a nearly-constant basis. Some power and cellular service has been restored, but you still can’t drink the water and schools remain closed. Can you imagine trying to communicate and deal with insurance claims with only sporadic mobile access and on tiny phone screens while kids are hot, bored, and losing out on the educations they need and deserve and you or your loved ones may have lost everything? I saw people living in tents along the roads. Mom and dad’s neighbors to the right had significant damage to their beautiful home, and after working for a full week to save, repair, and guard against further damage, their generator caught fire one morning and burned the house to the point that I don’t know if it’s salvageable. Loss upon loss upon loss. I am beyond thankful that the firemen thought to look in the garage and got the MANY full gas cans out in time.Helpers like those firefighters were incredible. World Central Kitchen set up meal service in the Walmart parking lot, churches shared meals and supplies from their lots, Oregon Products set up a free chainsaw-sharpening station, and Tide offered free laundry stations. The insurance adjuster looked shell-shocked as he wandered through the house; he graded it catastrophic and said he would do his best. And I can’t even begin to adequately thank all of our family and friends who came to help Mom and Dad. We got most of the house packed up and shipped off to storage units in Houston and Baton Rouge by the time I left last Saturday. And soon enough it will all be heading this way. I am not sure I’ve ever felt so depleted, and it’s unfamiliar and disconcerting, not at least in light of the fact of COVID-19 in America, everyone at home, and the most important election of our lifetimes in just 53 days. But, I am thankful Mom and Dad are safe, that Tom and I could go help, that we’ll soon all be nearer each other, and that both Jack and Ol have had great starts to their school years. Jack is so happy at his new school which is just beyond wonderful to see. It’s so clear that both schools and all the teachers over the summer put Herculean efforts into preparing for this odd year. Cheers and thanks to all of them! You are all so very kind, and I appreciate all the check-ins and love more than you know. With the heaviest of hearts, I must let you know that Mom and Dad’s house cannot be saved. Tom and I are flying down tomorrow to help salvage what can be and to say goodbye to the rest. Many of you have asked if I grew up in the house. No, I didn’t. But the history is one of love. Mom and Dad met as Tulane undergraduates. He was a year older and shy as could be, but he liked her legs and could, and still can, dance like a pro. She was unsure about the shyness but loved the joyful dancing, and the rest is history. He started med school in Augusta, GA, and after she graduated, they got married, and she joined him there. They did NOT love Augusta, but there they lived in the former servants’ quarters of an old manor house of sorts; the son of the owners was an architect with whom they became friends. They talked dreams, I was born, they moved to Mobile for Dad’s residency, they stayed in touch, my sister was born, they moved to Lake Charles, my dad got a job, and they saved enough to afford blueprints. Plans for the home they’d long dreamed of, designed by the architect they now called a friend.That roll of plans stayed in a tube for years. While they saved and bought a piece of land, saved some more and built a wharf and boathouse, saved some more until finally I was 16 and a high school junior and they broke ground on the house. That was 26 years ago.Mom was the general contractor for all intents and purposes, and while I begrudged her then, as a high school senior angsty about everything, she brought their dreams to fruition in a magical way that I now, as I try to maintain an identity beyond Mom, draw on to set limits when I need and want to work. She kept the schedule running such that we moved in the month of my senior prom and Mom and Dad hosted a dinner for a dozen of us on the back porch. In the years after, I had my wedding reception in the backyard, brought my babies there, served as maid of honor when my sister had her wedding reception there, and have sent my boys there for memorable Big Boys Weeks almost every summer since Jack was 4. My Nanny is buried not far away, the bayou that runs behind the house is always a balm, Mr. Egret always fishes for his dinner before gliding away gracefully as we rock and rock.It is all gone now, or will be soon. A life’s dream and work rendered largely moot in a few hours. I am devastated for my parents and for my sons. I suppose at some point it will hit me that Home is gone, that perhaps when I fly away this coming Friday, it will be for the last time. I can’t deal with that now, so I organized because that, I can do. Look for the helpers, they always say. I am humbled to say that my family has been inundated with the most loving of helpers, and a small army will tomorrow descend on Lake Charles. Loaded with bubble wrap and bottled water, gasoline and chainsaws, packing tape and duct tape, sandwiches and sweat equity, they are coming from all over Texas and Louisiana and even Tennessee, and together, because of love, we will save what we can and try to start ushering my parents, who have given so much to so many, into their next phase. Lake Charles is without running water, electricity, gas stations, and many cell towers, and yet we will make things work with great care.Essentially, such communion is all we have. If we paid attention to that, we’d tend the earth, disregard lies and craven political strategy, one-upmanship, bigotry. But we are human, and we are so challenged, and I guess that’s what makes the coming-together that I witnessed today and will witness this next week so very special. I will never forget all the kindness and generosity and love bestowed on my family, and I know that in part, all that is because my parents, and my grandparents, have always been helpers. It’s coming back to them when they need it most, and I am grateful. Be well.

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