Storm Journals Trying Times A Challenge To Human Spirit
Editor’s note: We asked three people in the community to keep “journals of the ice days.” Here are their third journal entries. More installments will follow.
By Kathleen Corkery Spencer
Special to The Spokesman-Review
We go to bed early and rise before dawn. Our caffeine and food consumption is way down. To eat or drink anything warm requires a trip to somewhere that has power. We weigh the benefits over the costs. We live the difference between desire and need.
I’m beginning to see the reason behind grange halls, state fairs and tribal gatherings. We are all each other’s touchstone. As I go out to work, run errands or search for a cup of hot tea, I am struck by the fact that everyone has a story they are longing to tell. These stories reflect both the storyteller’s reality and our collective larger reality. The shadow and the light of humanity.
Some people take the attitude of a wonderful volunteer director I once knew whose philosophy of life was “pitch in and shut up.” No whining allowed. These are the people who in good times or bad can be counted on to do what is needed to improve the outcome of any situation. They don’t brag about it, they just do it.
There are others who do good things but want everyone to be aware of it. At least part of the value of a good deed is being recognized for having done it. That’s OK. At least some good is done and everyone has a right to be occasionally insufferable.
And finally, there are those who take every act of nature, every human idiosyncrasy, every delayed flight as a personal insult. These are the folks who live to bitch. In the great metaphorical waiting line of life, they have always been waiting the longest. Sometimes “they” are us.
We go to The General Store. A salesman there has worked more than 30 hours the last two days. He answers inane questions with a tired smile and accepts rudeness with a sigh. He accepts that people who ask questions sometimes refuse the answer.
A time of crisis gives us all the opportunity to test our mettle and decide again what kind of people we want to be. Each of us has a bit of the light and a bit of the shadow. The parts are inseparable. What we do with them is our responsibility.
Corkery Spencer, 42, is a Spokane freelance writer.
By Marilyn Hart
Special to The Spokesman-Review
Cold. Tired. This has been like running a marathon. This is our fifth day without power. We can see our breath in the house. Went to the store to buy groceries. They are on the table. No need to hurry and put them in the fridge.
The hope of the human spirit is strange. Every time I enter a room, I still flip a light switch. I can imagine how blind people memorize rooms and can move about functionally in their houses. But if they have kids who are not perfect, how do they keep from tripping over toys? That’s a real danger in this pitch dark.
The lady at the convenience store just told me there is another winter storm warning in effect. Last time, I didn’t pay attention. This time, it struck a chord of terror. There is not much I can do about the realities of prolonged cold. Find more ways to fortify my spirit. Go to the folk life festival at the Unitarian Church. Another brief chance to get into the music and forget our problems.
Traversing this challenge is like walking on an icy sidewalk. Accept the danger. Proceed one step at a time. It appears that in a millennium of progress, people are not much better prepared for an ice age than dinosaurs were.
I feel guilty not doing more to help those who are really suffering. I will do my best to keep us from becoming an additional burden. Counting our blessings. A car. A phone. Running water. It could be much worse.
Marilyn Hart, 43, is a Spokane single mom.
By Gleyn Bledsoe
Special to The Spokesman-Review
Last evening, two elderly people were transported from Libby Center shelter to the hospital. They were suffering from “shelter shock.” Red Cross volunteers are trained to see the symptoms - panic, agitation, paranoia. And sometimes withdrawal.
It’s easy to understand why shelter shock can hit. They are out of their environments. No one lives in a school gym for real. I have two psychiatrists here. They roam around, and talk to people. If they sense someone is in trouble, they stop them in the hall and take them for a cup of coffee and get them talking.
They trained us to prevent shelter shock by keeping people busy, by smiling at them and by being friendly. Also they told us: Don’t separate families. So we don’t.
Our mental health professionals also look out for the volunteers, too. A woman named Pat, who I believe is a sociologist from the community college, pulled me aside the other day. I hadn’t slept or eaten much at all, and I felt the pressure building up inside me.
She said, “Come on outside with me, you need a breather.” I went outside, had a smoke, took a breather and walked back into the shelter, refreshed. At least a little bit refreshed.
Gleyn Bledsoe, 32, is the Red Cross’ Libby shelter manager.
ILLUSTRATION: 3 Color Photos
MEMO: (“After the Storm” Special Section, Day Five)