Till then I guess we’ll just stand around

They’ve got you like the moon has got the tide
You say you’re trippin, babe you’re goin’ for a ride
You say one day soon we will all stand as brothers
Till then I guess we’ll just stand around

‘ Bhagavan Decreed,’ Ed Vizard

I’ve read dozens of posts on Edwards Blogger-gate the last few days, just like everyone else.

I want to see Edwards stand up. Stand up and do something different. This is hardly an original thought on my part – like everyone is saying, if he can’t stand up to this tempest in a teapot, how is he going to deal with them in a real crisis?

That’s really it, as far as I’m concerned. If he plays the game according to the right’s script, instead of taking a chance and doing something different, then how is he going to deliver on health care, poverty, the war?

And it’s not like he’s going to beat Clinton by trying to be just like her, that’s for sure.

Whatever Edwards does or doesn’t do, I agree with Ilyka’s fantastic post calling for a unified front on behalf of Amanda and Shakes’ Sister. It’s probably the sanest thing I’ve read all day, along with the posts that she links to.

I want more of that in political discourse, not less. More human beings, fewer abstractions. I want people to quit thinking of politics as something they gave up after their last civics class, whenever that was; and I want them to start interacting with their leaders, their governments, and their communities in a more passionate, human way. We have terrible voter turnout in this country for a variety of reasons, too many to cover adequately here, but plain ol’ apathy definitely contributes. “Bleah, who cares? This issue doesn’t affect me. Government’s gonna screw me over anyway. That guy up there’s just another talking suit. Bleah, who cares.”

Sins of omission, continued.

Scout has a must-read post at First Draft on the tragedy that is New Orleans public housing, post-Katrina.

I know from experience (thank you Hurricane Celia) what it’s like to lose a house and family livelihood to a force of nature. Even as a kid, I felt the impotence and shock and vulnerability of that, and I remember being frightened that my parents weren’t going to survive the stress and strain.

However, when my family lost our house and my father’s shrimpboat to the hurricane, we moved in with my grandmother down the street from our old home, and within the same year, we were back in a new home on the same location, with help from federal loans. My father was able to get back to work in a new boat, also with assistance from government loans.

And even yet, with all that good luck and assistance, it was awful, to say the least.

What I can’t imagine is how it must feel, to: one, be displaced from your community, jobs, your childrens’ school, relatives, everything- and dumped elsewhere. Two, to be raped and pillaged by carpetbagging opportunists while you’re down and out. Three, to have no access to remediation from the federal government. Because four, they’re helping the carpetbaggers instead.

Add to that the infuriating fact that you can’t get access to what viable housing is still left, especially if that includes your own undamaged apartment or house.

Any one of those things is a life-altering trauma. It’s unimaginable what it must feel like to deal with all of them, and more.

Not that it can be excised from the overall context of the entire Katrina clusterf*ck, but the enormity of this one issue alone is overwhelming.