Helping Haiti to be more specific. I'm usually light with content, literally and figuratively as of late, but the recent disaster occurring in Haiti has really hit me and I felt compelled to write something. No soapbox, just discussion. Listening to all these interviews on local news from Haitians living in NYC that can't contact their loved ones reminds me of September 11, 2001. My father worked on the corner of Vesey and Church, the northeast corner of the Trade Center and patronized its businesses and facilities on a daily basis. Especially during mornings for his multiple cups of coffee and "fresh air" walks to light up. Following the collapse of the first tower, I frantically called him but couldn't get through. The fear that I lost my father was deeper than any pain I had ever felt. It was visceral. Made me nauseous, helpless. And while I don't know anybody firsthand on the island of Haiti, this feeling has returned. I can only imagine they're experiencing this, but worse.
It's a beautiful thing to see such an outpouring of support for the country. Already more than $10 million via SMS (Short Message Service) texts alone. Text donations are brilliant. Small denominations in volume, and so easy for the user. At times I generally think the masses are cold, heartless, couldn't give a shit about their fellow people, but moments like this renew my faith in humanity. Since Sept. 11, this is not the first disaster to strike. The Tsunami of 2004 and Hurricane Katrina are 2 of the more infamous that come to mind, though fucked up shit happens nearly every day somewhere on planet earth, my place of birth. Those events didn't evoke the same emotional response in me as the current catastrophe, and by looking at the substantial amount of money raised so far, didn't illicit the same reaction in the majority of others. Makes me wonder why. Should I be ashamed that I didn't feel the desperate urge to help before?
What has happened in Haiti has caused me to take a step back and really gauge what's important. Sneakers, fitteds, anything with an H, I love it, but let's be serious, shit isn't that serious. Food, that's another story, need to eat to live. I see something I like, I usually get it. Prior to the quake I was watching several fairly hard to find sneakers on ebay with some low prices. I was ready. Locked and loaded. Then the quake hits and those kicks really weren't a priority. In fact, the idea of spending loot on some egregious purchase, just adding to the columns of boxes, disgusted me. How dare I haphazardly drop cheese when that money could go for such a more worthy cause, people. It's fucking crazy. I could drop $200 on a pair of kicks easy, but the idea of giving just a fraction of that to charity doesn't come as fluidly. Made me feel like a fucking asshole. For real. Talk about a values and priorities check.
Listen, of course I'm not going cold turkey and retiring from the frivolous consumption game. Then I'd have nothing to write about. But maybe I'll be a bit more discerning and aware of the bigger picture. In order to look good, you got to feel clean.
With that, let's make a little transition to lighter fare. What we have here are the first additions of 2010. Both copped @ Cap City in West New York (What up Koo!!). The Astros, orange with a yellow H, button, New Era flag and underbill, navy star and navy bill happened to fit so I copped it, though I prefer the smaller logo. This was augmented a bit. I like my H like I like my titties, natural. Sorry J-Woww.
No need really to discuss the other. The consummate H logo. The Hickory Crawdads. Even though I have one that's basically identical. I can do a separate post strictly on the neurosis of that. Fuck it, we go hard.
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