Tuesday, October 25, 2005

The Surreal Life: East of Eden

Life has become too big, too complex for me to relate. I'm insufficient to the task. My words and photos useless. I sit here, staring blankly at the glow of a computer screen, unable to organize the flood at the gates. I feel the massive hum and throb of humanity, the hive, coming at me through the wires and wireless. If I touch it directly it could kill me, it's that huge, a power line down across my desk. I'm talking about you, here. All the help that's been sent, the words, the relief, the supplies, the thoughts, and yes, the prayers. You've kept a family alive, you know.

Hurricane Katrina blew my family into the ether, and it's the ether that's saved their hope. We've come to a strange and wonderful fork in the road, and it's all because of the internet. I have to tell you this amazing story, a single one in this huge hum, about a small family in North Carolina that was touched by the plight of a little Cajun woman light years away, and yet right next door. It's a story of hope in dark times, of absolute strangers caring like family, of renewal and love and the power of art in the internet age. My mom says it's the strangest thing that's ever happened to her, and that's really saying something.

And no matter how hard I try, I will be unable to convey to you all that I experienced, all that transpired. This can only be a sketch, as this whole site is only a sketch, because I'm insufficient to the task.

I had just evacuated my family to Las Vegas, and was returning to New Orleans, to see if I could reach McKain Street, and my family roots, when I received the email from a guy named Kenny, in Carteret County North Carolina. It's tone was a strangely comforting mix of military succinctness and polite Southern comfort, and was simply titled "An Offer Of Assistance."

In it, he told me how his "sweetie", Elizabeth, had stumbled upon Operation Eden, and how she related to my mom's life, and to her plight, and had been moved to tears by this post. He told me about how they had been aching to reach out and help someone that had been displaced by Katrina since the storm first hit, and had, like many others, been rebuffed by bureaucrats. He told me Elizabeth's daughter, Toni Marie, had just purchased a rental property, and wanted to offer it to my mom and little brother for a year, rent free, until we could rebuild my mom's Eden.

What? I'm sorry. Life up to this point has done nothing but make me a jaded and cynical bastard, and FEMA hasn't done anything to dispel that, so my first instinct was to call bullshit. This guy's yanking my chain. Maybe they want to lure my family in to harvest their organs. White slavery, perhaps? When I read my mom the email, her only reaction, weary from negotiating FEMA lines and the strip malls of Vegas, was "Whaaaat?"

Starve a man for long enough, and food might kill him. A shock to the system. Survival suspicion. Ever try to feed a stray dog?

So while I was in New Orleans I exchanged emails with Kenny, and then Elizabeth, and as I got more comfortable with them we made plans for me to visit them in North Carolina and check it all out. I was weary from things that had happened to me in New Orleans, and things I had seen, including McKain Street finally, which I'll talk about later. I had the weight of my family on my shoulders, and the knowledge that Las Vegas was going to eat them alive in short time, despite meeting some wonderful people there. So I was a glass-eyed zombie, apprehensive, at the end of my rope, when I made the ten hour drive to see Carteret County for myself, hoping that it was what they said it was, but fearing it wouldn't be.

It was. And more. It was as if Katrina had ripped open a hole in time and space, and shifted the Gulf coast to the east coast. Like the Gulf, before it was destroyed. Delicate marshes, huge forests, small country roads, churches everywhere, white cotton in the vast fields, the beaches. Beautiful, but with the far off threat that coastal living carries with it. I started to understand. These people knew, really knew what my people had gone through. Where they came from. It could have been them, after all. And that's when the offer made sense to me.

Kenny and Elizabeth couldn't have been sweeter, or more down to earth and genuine. I was given a whirlwind tour of their small community, Kenny called it the nickel tour, and I soon realized it wasn't just their family that was reaching out to mine, it was the whole little town. It was the mayor, who's office was a golf cart under an oak tree at his nursery business. It was the local water company executive, it was the real estate agent, the insurance agent, and long-time family friends. They'd all pitched in for the effort. The local banker had even set up an account under the name "Katrina Survivor."

I told my mom to roll. No more motel-living in Vegas. No more quasi-homelessness. She rolled.

In the meantime, Kenny had taken to calling the beautiful little trailer they had for my mom East of Eden, and that's an indication of how sensitive they were to my mom's perceptions and needs. This was not charity, this was giving and relief in it's purest form. Selfless, empathic. They had furnished the place sparingly but tastefully, knowing my mom would want to pad her own nest. The attention to detail was astounding. Pots, pans, dishes, bedding, silverware, glasses, appliances, bathroom items, household items, all left in its packaging, so my mom could put it where she wanted it. A local business had donated a computer. There was a ginormous TV, cable, high-speed internet.

They even bought some damn Pepto-Bismol for the medicine cabinet.

Desperate, my mom cleared over 700 miles a day, and each night I'd give her updates on what I was seeing of the place, and the people, and the community. The next day, spurred by hope, she'd drive a little harder. The last day she cleared over 900 miles, and arrived exhausted, in the dead of night. Before she got there the rest of us, Kenny, Elizabeth, and my girl Katie, had spent the night putting the finishing touches on the place. Assembling a TV stand, framing some photos that had been salvaged from her Eden but that she hadn't seen yet, lighting candles. Elizabeth made beautiful arrangements of tulips throughout the house. It was like Christmas Eve, we were so excited for them to arrive.

My mom and little brother were shells when they finally got in. Beyond exhausted. Zombies. They had been going non-stop since the day before Katrina hit. Being a survivor is more than a full-time job. When your future is only as far as tomorrow it's tough to sleep, even when you're a lucky one with a bed. They stumbled through the house, barely able to absorb it all. Only able to point out this or that, like they were tourists at the museum of their future. I could tell they were having a tough time processing it all, waiting for the rug to be pulled out, the other shoe to drop, the catch.

We hovered in the kitchen, speechless, resting, and my mom just slumped towards me, hugging me. That's when I could tell she was slowly crying. Tears of joy for this refuge from the storm. I just held her up, stood there with her, cried with her. She let it all out. It wasn't home, but she felt like she belonged.

Elizabeth and Kenny sat by us as we hugged, quiet and respectful, as always. This is the picture that shows the moment when two American families came together. It shows the hum of the internet made tangible. The ether made solid. Touchable.

And there it is, for now. The internet saved my family. My camera saved my family. I'm a high school dropout, but my writing saved my family. If this had happened ten years ago, my photos, my writing, wouldn't have saved anybody, because nobody would have seen it. It wasn't on CNN. It wasn't on the broadcast networks. It wasn't even on PBS. It was on a plain, small, free website, and that's the only reason Elizabeth saw it, and brought her family into the effort.

Katrina has shown me some things. She's shown me that the American government is unable to protect anything we hold dear. She's shown me that the American people are an amazing, giving, tough, resourceful, huge people, and that they're not being represented fairly by the current class of small-hearted politicians and lazy bureaucrats. She's shown me that people around the world care about us after all, despite our government. She's shown me that it's not about FEMA, it's not about the Red Cross, that it's about amazing families like Elizabeth and Kenny's family in North Carolina. Like I've said before, it's just about people like you and me, on our own, together.

And at the end of the day, I'm just very happy to see my little brother smile again, laugh again, play again. But I know I can't call this a happy ending. We still have so much to do, so much to rebuild, so much to recover, so many pieces to pick up, so many questions to answer. This is a sunny day, but the end of the road is still clouded. No, it's not a happy ending, but thanks to this small, loving family in North Carolina, and all of you out there in the ether, it's damn well a happy end of the beginning.

And that's more than any of us hoped for a month ago.


Anonymous said...

One family sheltered, comforted. . .Millions to go. . .We must stay strong.

Anonymous said...

I'm so happy for you!

Don't forget to pay it forward.

But i can tell that comes natural.

Peace & Love & The Best of Luck!

Nobody Special said...

Wow, I just want to start crying right now. Words can't describe the lump in my throat and the weight of your words. I knwo what it's like to try and do anythin gyou can to support your family. Having a single mother who relied on me for so long to help with bills and protect her from my father makes me realize that there is another side to life than hurt and pain. We just have to step back, take a deep breathe and ralize when we still have each other, everything else is small comapred to the loss of one another. I don't know how I would have weathered this storm if I had lived near you, but I tell you this, I would have done anything I could to keep my family together, even if it meant sacrificing oneself to save them.

We hear you and we are with you...all of us stand beside you and we will do what we can to help the others.

On a side note, a bit of hope, or light to show that people are still out there and need our help: 76-year-old man found after 18 days, Amazed rescuers say he only had some water, no food [http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/9376860/]

Anonymous said...

You done good, my friend. I am from Bay St. Louis, and I can relate to what you have gone through.

One thing: "Life has become too big, too complex for me to relate. I'm insufficient to the task." I hope you don't mind if I disagree with that assessment. I have been reading your blog for a while and have been feeling the power and focus driving it.

*Big hugs* through the ether to you and your family.

The Creative Death said...

Congrats! ! The tears on your faces say it all.
Godbless that family in North Carolina, and godbless your family.

Mercury said...

May God bless you richly, Kenny and Elizabeth, for giving and trusting on so many levels. I am deeply moved. Let this be a witness to all of us of what being "American" is all about.

Mr. Fletcher said...

i'm speechless, simply overwhelmed.


Anonymous said...

It is stories like these that give me hope. Not only hope for the forseeable future, but hope for much farther down the road. Hope that this act, and so many other countless acts of humanity, will be a wake up call to those whom we grant the privledge to govern us. And a lesson to those who will unseat them, and finally govern from a place of love, humility and selflessness.

Merlot said...

What an amazing blog, came over it completely at random!
Saw all the stuff on TV but the picture you've painted, are painting is just on another level.
Sometimes it's hard to remember that it's people out there, i won't forget that now...ever.

kris said...

there is a full-circle kind of peace in this post. i've been reading for quite a while now...moved to comment now. this was so close, personal...moved me to tears.

Anonymous said...

My heart is singing, and my eyes are full. We are planning a move from Wisconsin soon (as soon as family issues that keep us here resolve) and the area we love the most is in Carteret County, NC. If I wasn't 100% sure before (and I thought I was)...I damn sure am now. Good people down there, and thank God for them. Thank God for this ether that has united us all. ** One more thing - I shared this website with someone up here who had signed up with FEMA to help down there, but has heard nothing. (Oh, the shock!) I gave him this website. He's trying to work with his boss to get a big trailer/tractor from work, which our little corner of Wisconsin will fill with things from your lists before it heads down to the Gulf. If he gets the okay, he'll be contacting you through this site. ** Blessings on all of you.

Unknown said...

God bless you guys and he is with you at all times!

Abu Unaysah said...

Your family's story is, simply put, an inspiration to all who suffer from a poverty of courage, love, and inner strength in today's maelstrom of caustic indifference.

You've taken tribulation, and you've not let it destroy you, but renew you. Let not our souls be crippled by such a tragedy. Let us graft our hearts into one another, and mend the wounds of sorrow with hope and providence. To Eden, indeed.

Thank you.

Anonymous said...

I'm so glad that the story of your family made me cry again. But, this time not with pity or anger, or frustration. But with quite a bit of amazement and joy. How fortunate that we have Kenny's and Elizabeth's. I'm so very glad that you were able to bring such needed stability.

Very beautiful.

Cyndy said...

Been watching your plight for awhile now and am SO happy that your family has found a place to be at peace until Eden can be rebuilt.

Adore the picture of your brother playing in the ocean...he looks like a 14 year old for the first time since I first visited your site.

I hope and wish for the best for your family. Your pictures and words are wonderful...keep it up.

Anonymous said...


Much love and good wishes to you and your family as always.

chuck said...

I, too, am "blown away"...

Thanks for sharing...

Anonymous said...

I found your blog thew a project that I am working on, which is about hurrican Katrina. You are amazng, just as you have no words, I am also at a lack or words. I have checked up on your blogg every day, and finally today I am posting!!! You story brings tears to my eyes, first of anger, now of joy!! I wish the best for you and your family!! You work pictures and words are awsome!!! Keep it up!! Best of luck!!

Anonymous said...

Wonderful, beautiful.

Warm wishes to you and to your new extended family.

Hope and peace and joy --

Rachel said...

How wonderful! God Bless Kenny and Elizabeth and the whole town for their generosity! That's how it should be, people helping people. Keep us posted!

thatfarmgirl said...

I'll be seeing Governor Barbour later this evening and I'm giving him this post and your blog address. You are an amazing soul, Clayton Cubitt. I hope I have the honor of meeting you in person some day.

Rialle said...

Clayton, I have followed this from the beginning, but I commented under the name Rialle. You and your family are incredibly amazing. You have seen this many times now, because everyone who follows your blog is saying it, but I wanted you to know. You have done something here that few others have before, and you have opened my eyes to something I didn’t want to see. I thought I hadn’t lost anyone in the hurricane, but now I realize that part of me was blown away with the wind, with the houses and people and lives that I’ll never know. I didn’t have the chance to se New Orleans before, and I heard it was beautiful. Even though only ashes are left now, watching it rebuild is perhaps more beautiful than any pictures could tell. People are still suffering down there, still searching for their loved ones, but they are rebuilding. Slowly they will put their lives back together as best as they can, even though some of them will be missing pieces of who they were. I do what I can from here, but I have no way of leaving to get down there. Should the chance arise, there will be no second thoughts, because I want to fix it, even if it takes my whole life.
I wish I could meet you, talk to you for a while, watch you with your family. This is America Clayton, right here, hidden in your words and pictures of our people. If I ever see you, I will know you immediately. I hope I could someday meet you, even just for a few hours. I have never known anyone who has such amazing words inside of you, words that force me to wake up to life. If I could write this way, I would do what you have done and write words so people would understand. My heart ached for you and your family, but now, I can’t stop being happy. I want you all to be happy, I want you to be able to put everything back together, and I want you to keep writing like this. Please tell your mom and brother how amazing they are, for surviving even when others collapsed. All of you deserved this more than anything.

You did something good here, Siege.

We judge of man's wisdom by his hope.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson

cpj said...

That's so great. I hope your family rebuilds and starts fresh, better, stronger than before. This is a wonderful start.

Funny little thing the internet is. A tool for cynics, perverts, and hopefuls among others.

I can't explain all I want to say, so, simply this -- I'm smiling and I don't know why.

Marco said...

Out of the ethernets! My best to you and your family. There are good people in this world. This gives me hope too. Very soulful stuff.

lesbonstemps said...

Wow, that made me cry. I have been amazed at the kindness ordinary people have shown to each other in the aftermath of Katrina.

keithurbanchic said...

Clayton - You've got angels swarming around you. Eastern North Carolina is a wonderful place full of caring people. I'm so happy for you and your family. Bless you all!

Anonymous said...

I've been reading your blog since the hurricane. I've been tempted several times to comment and today have done so twice. I think you and your family are amazing people.
I have cried for you, hoped for you and thought about you for months now. Strangers in the ether indeed. And I feel as if I've known your family forever.
My very best wishes to you and your family. I hope this is the light at the end of the tunnel that you so badly deserve.
I hope you all rest well tonight and sleep better than you have in months.
Take care and keep your spirits up.

Anonymous said...

I've read your blog every day, and been touched by your love for your family.

Today, I'm touched by the love these strangers have shown your family.

And it reminds me that for all the darkness in the world, we can each light the way by sharing our love and what we have with others.

Pretty powerful stuff.
p.s. - Like your photography, your writing is amazing. Thank you for sharing your perspective with all of us so far away, who care so much about those devastated by Katrina.

BayouChild said...

I love your site. It inspired me to start a blog about blogs that move the heart and soul. Yours is at the top of the list.

Anonymous said...

What a wonderful story!

Please thank Kenny and Elizabeth and the great people in their community for all of us, too.

You mean a lot to us now.

Steve said...

Congratualtions man!Thats terrific news! Clayton, you took your talents and put them to good use man.think on that for a moment; would Pearlington received 80 tons of supplies (as reported on NPR) if not for your endeavours? I dont think so. I think your voice and your artwork made this thing roll man, you helped to save your hometown bro, a thing not everyone gets to do. Be proud.

Now that ya'll are "in the neighborhood", if you feel like stopping in sometime let me know! Sure were in the same state, but from Charlotte to Morehead City is only four hours shorter than from Charlotte to New Orleans.It's a pretty big state!

Still, tell your momma that if she gets homesick for some good food, my MIL is from Napoleonville down in Ascension Parish, and makes the best Seafood gumbo in all the great state of North cack-a-lackee, and she, your brother yourself and your one and only are welcome any time. Come on over, I'll show you the sites, where Bill Monroe recorded the bulk of his work, where Minor Threat and played, stuff like that.

Anonymous said...

I'm thrilled for you all!
I've followed your blog since the beginning clayton....and I'm so proud of you. Your pictures are beautiful. I hope to see a coffee table book one day! My best to you and your family...and Kenny and Elizabeth!

mllewang said...

making everyone shmoopier...one internet blog at a time. love you guys.

Anonymous said...

these were the most beautiful photos in your very powerful documentation of an overwhelming personal tragedy. i've been following from the very beginning, and after seeing this post i really can't say anything adequate to the task of commenting here. this entry truly made me cry, i'm still crying, but it's in relief for the generosity shown by ordinary people. i wish i had the goodness and the resources of kenny and elizabeth, and wasn't just idly adding my comments.

Anonymous said...

i just commented earlier and this came to me: this is your story of hope that the magazines were looking for...capitalize on it, it's incredibly powerful. as horrible as it may sound, you can sell this story and bring the rebuilding that much closer, it would make amazing documentary material.

Flaming Goddess said...

Thankyou Clayton,
Thankyou tor showing us what being human really means, and giving us all a chance to join in and be human with you.
Love and peace.

tsc said...

To hear your journey throughout such a desparate time in your life is truly inspirational. You have taken a tragedy and have transformed it into an opportunity to bring people together in a time of need. Much happiness and peace to you and your family.

Anonymous said...

HOPE...everyone needs it and that is what you bring with your photos and words, keep up the great work!

My mother-in-law and her husband just came from Bay St. Louis for a week here in CA, it was so great to hug them again! They had ridden the storm out as well, and survived...They are now living with our sister in SC, their house is now being gutted by our brother while his wife and baby reside in FL...And then the other brother barely survived in Waveland with his wife and has now decided to call TX his home...So many lives uprooted from this tragedy, and family histories that are being affected every day...But, as you have shown, everything comes full circle, and the circle will continue to get bigger, as more people "pay it forward:)"...

And, as I said, you bring:
Hope for the sad and lonely,
Hope for the down and out,
Hope for humanity:)

Thanks again,
JoAnn Bush
Los Angeles, CA

PS Anyone who wants to help MS schools, check out my site @

Anonymous said...

Dear Clayton;

What a huge relief this must be for your entire family. Thank goodness for people like Kenny and Elisabeth.

I have been following you and your mother's plight since almost the begining. I found your site through (after a fashion) the We're Not Afraid site and if ever a picture says we are not afraid it is the one of your brother running in the waves. I still want to see your mom back in Pearlington in Eden again though. I really hope that happens for her, if she still wants it. Good Job Clayton... Good Job.

missbhavens said...

I cannot describe how this beautiful, earnest and emotional post has made me feel. I am so happy for you and your family. We are one family closer to rebuilding it all. It will be so slow and so difficult--one family at a time. But it will be done.

I'm actually crying, and I didn't realize it.

Anonymous said...


Your courage and hope has inspired me beyond belief.

Your lives have touched so many others, the vastness of this is SO huge!!
You give people strenth.
You put my faith back in humanity.

Thank you for sharing your powerful intense journey.
You make others grow, just by being alive.

The kindness of others, is your "manifestation" of your ablility to remain open thru all this.

May the power of the unseen lift you up and hold you in peace.

Anonymous said...

I cried like a baby reading this. Bless your heart. Bless her home.

Anonymous said...

It is only after your faith is lost that you can find it.

Welcome back to life.

We're with you, you know. We're all we have. We have to stand together, and we are.

djpoptart said...

oh my god! wow. hooray!!!

right on, elizabeth and kenny from north carolina!!

you're an inspiration as a human being and an artist, clayton. you got right down there and used what you do to do what you had to do to take care of your people. you're a warrior, man!! total respect.

i've been following _operation eden_ since your second or third post. reading this one, i realize that the power of your voice/vision is such that i've been holding your mom and brother in my heart. i'm so thrilled for them that the good connection got made and that they have a place to get stable. from here, it gets better.

take care of yourself. it's okay for *you* to relax now, too.

Unknown said...

I have been crying for 10 minutes reading this post and the comments.

I am like Duchess (from a recent post)a mother of three amazing grown children and I couldn't be prouder of anyone than I am of you. You are amazing. I think you know you aren't white trash and you had your tongue firmly in cheek when you call yourself that. As for high-school, your heart, mind and soul were too big for high school, that's all.

I don't have a gift for writing like you do, Clayton, but I hope you know you and your family are loved by me.

love, love,

Anonymous said...

Goddamn Seige- that's absolutely beautiful. I'm so happy for your Mom and your brother - and for you and your girl too because I know how much you've poured into this - everything that you had and more.

The older I get, the more jaded and cynical, the more I stamp "NYer" all over my character and appearance, the more I'm thankful that i was raised by a bunch of po' country-assed big hearted bumpkins. Lord knows they might never really understand most of me, but their love and their giving nature are two of the fiercest things I have ever seen.

I think your family found something very similar in Carteret. Congrats.

Anonymous said...


I want to tell you how much your story, and what your family's experience has been, and is, has touched my heart and soul.

The images, your words, are viceral and poignant. Truth is one powerul experience. I think you do your truth, and so many others going through this experience, incredible justice by your efforts here.

I'm a stranger, but I'm a thread in this universal fabric too. Which is apparently a hell of a lot stronger than I ever imagined.

We ARE strong together, aren't we? And when we are weak and vulnerable, well...that's just strength of another kind isn't it?

All the best to you and your family!


Anonymous said...

Hi Clayton and everyone else,

(First, congratulations of course to Clayton's family--hooray!)

Have also been reading this blog from the beginning, and ever since it began I've been thinking one thing: There are people out there in need. There are people somewhere else who have resources to spare in terms of time, material wealth, or skills/information. This blog is one of the most effective uses of the internet I have ever seen to bring these two groups together.

Why? Because when we watch a disaster on TV, most people do think, oh my God those poor people, that could be me, I wish I could do something. And there may be an extra $50 or whatever in your wallet, and you think, "where can I send this?" and it seems pitifully small compared to the problem itself, and then you hear about the ineffectiveness of big organizations like the Red Cross, and suddenly that $50 seems pointless. Because you compare your uses for that $50 to the need of these huge organizations for it, and suddenly it seems a waste and you give up thinking about it and change the channel.

Here's the thing though. If you were right beside those people in that disaster zone, and you saw that someone there needed $100 or even $500 for food or equipment or medicine, you'd probably part with that.

What Clayton has done, with incredible pictures and eloquent, intelligent accompanying text, is put all of us (even me in Finland) right there beside his family. And we finally have a direct, concrete outlet for our concern for the hurricane victims. We know exactly who is getting our help, what kind of help, and why.

Now I want to know: Is there any way to do this kind of thing for other families/people in need as well? A website where people can tell their stories, request socks, etc, and other people can send either money or needed objects right there? Does this already exist somewhere? If this doesn't exist but were set up, is there a way to prevent fraud, so you don't get people requesting things for free and then selling them to their neighbors? There's also the problem of the people in the hardest circumstances are unlikely to have web access to tell their stories/needs. Is there a way to reach them?

I believe that people mostly really do want to help others. However, people also have jobs and lives and families, and can't really go out of their way very far to do so. It has to be made easy and straightforward.

Any ideas, people?

(sorry this was so long)

Anonymous said...

I was there, too. I wasn't a survivor. I was a helper. I went for warm fuzzies, I suppose, thought I considered myself more honorable at the time. I was quickly reduced to what really was.

Katrina has yet to be a cleanser for me. She was a confuser, a chaos-maker.

Katrina reduced me to the basest of me and forced me to examine some things I wasn't prepared to approach. I met some beautiful people. I cried more than I'm willing to publicly admit. I carried babies and patched AIDS patients and found methadone clinics for the addicted. I got sick from exposure to so many germs, I managed 15 hour days on crackers and cookies and I hated and hugged and raged.

The experience made me crash a bit, made me re-write my law school app, made me afraid of my character and made me love.

It's still too soon, too close, to exquisitely painful and present but I'm glad I was there for it. I'm glad. I'm glad for people like your family, too. Thank god, or whoever, for that.

Anonymous said...

It is Thanksgiving Day, and I am reading this from work (I am a nurse). I WAS feeling sorry for myself that I am away from my kids and family for now because of my profession, but right now I am wiping tears and snot from my face in total and utter gratitude for the good things the human race is capable of doing, and for all that I have.
Happy Thanksgiving. God Bless you, your family, and the kind people who reached out to your family.

Anonymous said...

i arrived here through brian battjer's site, and am truly inspired.

your story is proof of the hope the internet holds.

so much seems to be at stake in our age, with so much propaganda as flotsum in our psyche, and you are exemplifying the real opportunity we all have to find and understand each other. to give support and organize.

to discard our malaise and flourish and let rot all those mechanisms that seek to profit from amplifying our worst human tendencies.

crazy love for ya'll