New Orleans, I'm very sorry

I've become a bit paralyzed today. On the one hand I'm overcome with sorrow for the victims of the hurricane. On the other hand I am seething with rage at my country's ineptitude and its inability to rescue its own citizens. And then I am numb with horror and shock at how it's now day six and still, mostly it's alot of people talking. Day six and we still have people there unrescued, held in pens like cattle while guests from the Hyatt move to the front of the line. Day. Six. We have given money. We will give more, but I can't help thinking that I need to give water. Except I'm also very sure I'd only be in the way to go down there now. I don't have a bus. I also have a toddler. I have few skills that would help. I plan to keep an eye out for ways to help the 5000 that are supposed to come to Iowa -- of course, first they have to get out of hell. I'm going to go get supplies and take them to the drop off point. I've written scathing letters to all my congressional representatives telling them to GET OFF THEIR ASSES and at least yell a lot. Beyond that, I think I should probably spend some time in meditative prayer for peace and action to reach those who need it, and that's about what I can come up with that I can actually do. The rage isn't going to help anybody, so it needs to be spent. If I had somewhere for it to carry me, I'd do that, but mostly I'm left here with this well of sorrow and a sense of disbelief that this is happening. It's not the natural disaster blowing me away, it's the disaster of response. If anybody can think of something else to be done, my God, I'd love to hear it.