There’s a strange kind of shame that creeps in when you’re holding a cold, dirty martini while scrolling past headlines about flood rescues. The briny olive swims lazily in the glass, and somewhere in Texas, eight-year-olds are clinging to a tree to survive. And I’m sitting here, refreshed and rattled.
I can’t stop thinking about those kids.
I can’t stop thinking about their parents, were they close enough to see? Did they even know where their children were as the water surged around them? Were they screaming, praying, trying to get there? It’s unbearable.
But so is the way we react to it. Or not react to it. The flood isn’t even over, and the finger-pointing has already started. Governors, mayors, FEMA, climate activists, and cable news pundits all have someone to blame. There are charts, policies, fundraising links, and political memes. What isn’t there? Enough about the families. The people. The actual humans that are trying to piece together the life that got swept away in the current.
And yeah, I know, we’ve got a lot going on. The mortgage is due, kids need rides, groceries aren’t going to shop themselves, and God help you if you let your inbox sit for more than 48 hours. But still.
Still.
I keep thinking about Camp Mystic. One of the many summer camps that was hit hard. A place where parents dropped off their children for fun, sun, and structure, and where some had to return to find mud-filled cabins and emergency responders instead of counselors.
What do you even say to those families? What do you say to the ones who haven’t found all their family members yet?
We say, “thoughts and prayers.”
We share a link.
We vote.
We blame.
And some of us, like me tonight, sip a martini and scroll.
Then there are the celebrity donation announcements, scroll-stopping declarations of generosity, complete with press releases, hashtags, and camera-ready compassion. I’m not here to knock the giving. Money helps. A lot. But something is unsettling about the way some turn crisis into content. Whatever happened to helping quietly? Anonymously? Without the need for a branded backdrop or a matching hoodie?
The same goes for corporations that roll out a check, take a bow, and somehow still manage to squeeze in a product plug. “We stand with Texas,” they say, while making sure their logo is centered in every photo. Disaster relief shouldn’t be a PR campaign. It shouldn’t be something you can write off, literally or figuratively, while still charging the public $6 for bottled water.
And here’s the thing we all need to remember: This isn’t a trending topic. This isn’t a “current event” that we get to file away with last week’s weather. For the people in Texas, especially those in the hardest-hit, already underserved communities, this is life now. There is no “next headline.” No safe return to normal. Entire neighborhoods are gone. Schools are closed indefinitely. Some people will never come home again. They don’t have the luxury of moving on; neither should we.
I’m not going to pretend to have answers. I’m just tired of disaster being treated like a media moment or a policy debate. I want someone, anyone, to focus on the people. The children. The ones who didn’t make it. The ones who barely did. The ones who are sitting in church basements right now with nothing but a plastic bag of belongings and a blanket they don’t recognize.
If you’re reading this, maybe consider donating. Not because it makes you a good person or earns karma points, but because someone out there really, truly needs it. Churches, shelters, and mutual aid groups. Local boots on the ground.
And if you’ve got the time, write to someone who can make policy and tell them this isn’t about red or blue, it’s about water. And the people are drowning in it.
But if you don’t do anything else, at least pause before that next sip. Remember the sweet, pink or purple flower-decorated foot lockers covered in mud, being pulled from summer camp cabins. The kids. The parents. The people whose lives will never be the same again. And how fast everything can change.
If you want to donate, consider supporting these organizations that are actively providing services and aid in the field. *I don’t get anything if you donate. I’m just doing the legwork and vetting the sources for you.
https://www.houstonfoodbank.org/
https://www.communityfoundation.net/flood-relief-fund
https://www.texsar.org/donate/
https://www.redcross.org/local/texas/central-and-south-texas.html
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