Tsunami, Revisited

Since I last addressed the horrific tragedy that unfolded in Asia this week, I've been watching and absorbing the sheer number of human lives that were lost, incredulous. Last night my other half and I were reading the news -- the number of fatalities skyrocketed from a 'mere' 25,000 or so to 80,000, and the final estimation is hovering in the neighborhood of over 110,000 people lost. The numbers are staggering -- and what seemingly pours fuel on this fire is the notion that each one person lost has a family, friends and acquaintances that are eternally tied into the loss. For those trying to put perspective on this tragedy, Madison Square Garden holds 18,000 people, Giants Stadium holds 50,000 + and The Big House in Ann Arbor holds about 80,000. That means -- in the space of 90 minutes, in a roar of panic, upheaval (literally and figuratively) and horror, an entire stadium -- spread over several nations -- was wiped away. Gone. What's left is an unfathomable collection of corpses -- in schools, churches, stores, houses -- and the smell of decay, sewage and disease. Many of the tourists that were even marginally affected by this disaster are being very well treated by the host governments of Thailand, Indonesia, Sri Lanka, etc., and will eventually be able to return to their own countries. What of the peoples who have lost their entire lives as a result of this destruction? Forget the loss of human life, if possible, for a moment -- without livelihood, housing or medical attention, how many more will wish they never survived the actual incident? Troubling, sad, macabre and awful -- on so many, many levels. Seeing a child being carried and buried by his or her family is upsetting; seeing this episode repeated a hundred times over, well, I don't think they have a word which adequately describes the appropriate sentiment.

Beyond my sadness over this, my girlfriend and I have been reading firsthand accounts from survivors describing the swift, powerful and all-encompassing destruction that transpired, and neither of us have been able to stomach much of it simply because it is painful to read. What did occur to me, however, is how the Internet and its ubiquity has changed the face of this, both the on-site assistance angle and the ability for us to peek inside this situation, for better or worse. Between the dehumanizing nature of Internet dating and communication and the isolation and disassociation in many lonely, pathetic people that is exacerbated by the world wide web, I've long wondered what the long-term social ramifications of the Internet will be on us as a culture or on this planet. However, it's nice to see that many people have established blogs and other points of contact to facilitate people finding their relatives and loved ones within the confines of this chaotic environment. Between that and reading about peoples' experiences surviving this, it's put an unabashedly human spin on the whole thing, which has remarkably brought into focus just how destructive, awful and horrific this has been. I remember, on 9/11, looking south on 3rd Avenue and seeing smoke and dust rising where downtown should have been, and I remember the chaos, the tears and the smells of being on Fulton Street and Broadway the day after the attacks. Reading about the tragedy that occurred this week reminds me that words and perspective are 2/3's of experience, and absorbing all that's happened via the Internet allowed me entry and experience that a three-column, above-the-fold in the New York Times simply wouldn't.

I hope that this tragedy, and all that have been affected by it, recedes and people reclaim their lives and their happiness. And I know all too well that it will be a very long time before the affects of this terrible incident even remotely begin to fade in our collective consciousness. In my own, personal way, I hope and pray for all the people who have felt loss, and despite being halfway around the world and not witnessing it firsthand, I know I will feel this pall for some time to come.