Irene, Meet Lee. Lee, Meet Irene.

Wednesday: still raining here in the GNC, more than ten days after Irene.

Stories continue to emerge of catastrophe, personal hardship and depression. At the post office, a stranger said to me, out of nowhere, "These are the only clothes I have."  She tugged at her T-shirt, many sizes too big, but her shoes looked new, donated.

Everywhere I go I see homes pushed off the foundations, sunken into trenches, washed into the stream (stream by nostalgic name only), broken into chunks, smashed against uprooted trees.  This caused the rushing water to change course, into other homes that had been protected. The people whose homes these were are now themselves without foundation, sunken, nostalgic, broken and uprooted.  They must change course, too, and it is still raining.  I went from the post office to the grocery store. "I haven't seen this much destruction since the war," said a friend. He meant World War II, in Dresden, where he was raised.

Yesterday, I ventured off the mountaintop, to Kingston, for supplies. People, cars and businesses were  going about their normal activities of daily living.  I didn't run into any roadblocks, detours, emergency vehicles or National Guard personnel.  I thought of going to a movie to move my mind off the mayhem, but it was still raining and I didn't want to risk another road washing away before I could get back to the mountaintop.

Normal Activities of Daily Living.  What a nice idea. I think I will try it myself today.