Quake Rules

When our boys were small, one of our rules was that they could not go from one place to another without telling us. If they went to play at one friend's house and decided to go somewhere else, they had to call. As they grew older and drove themselves around the county, the rule held, and they were very good about checking in with us. My reasoning from the beginning was that if there was an earthquake, I needed to know where to look for them, and they understood.

When they went off to college, the rule boundaries stretched to the state line. If they left California, we wanted to know. Even now if they're traveling they call or we will receive an email with flight information. But not always.

The kid called tonight, his usual Sunday call, but late. The big game was over, and we thought we'd hear from him at least so he could tease me about picking the Colts as winners. Therefore, when the phone rang after nine, after midnight his time, and he said he was coming back from Miami, we thought he'd been to a game party. No. He'd been to Haiti.

On Wednesday he and a surgeon from his hospital flew with ten tons of medical supplies and surgical equipment into Port au Prince, and they've worked for five days to distribute the materials to hospitals and clinics and orphanages. The kid has now set broken bones, casted arms and wrists, seen more devastation than he could imagine, flown to rural clinics and met people trying to put lives together amid ruin and poverty, and helped where he could.

At one stop a grandmother handed over a baby she couldn't care for. I asked what size the baby the baby was, and he said the same size as our new granddaughter, six pounds. But this baby was three months old, not five weeks. The baby flew back with them to the orphanage, because otherwise it would die of dehydration and starvation.

The kid has nothing but good things to say about the military working there. Our men are in full gear in 90 degree heat with high humidity. The airport is in a dust bowl, and the dust and diesel fumes swirl in the air, constantly stirred by planes and heliocopters. He said the cargo planes have come from everywhere, and the military keeps order as the aid pours in to Haiti.

Our soldiers helped secure the materials they brought in and also helped load the trucks. They never grumbled. They have no showers and must clean themselves with wipes. They have basic meals. They stand guard and help load trucks and are glad to see other Americans. I asked the kid if he had any sort of special badge or ID, and he said, "Mom, I'm white." He's blond too, and looks like an American kid. He has nothing but admiration for the job being done down there.

And now he's home again, probably standing in his shower. He left all the clothes he took with him in Port au Prince. I asked him why he hadn't called to let us know he was going, and he said he hadn't wanted us to worry. Tuesday he'd been put to the head of a line to get all the shots he needed, and Wednesday they flew out of Miami with their cargo. Tomorrow he will be two hours late for work at the hospital, but he's not taking the day. There's too much to do.

He's never left the country before without letting us know. When he went around the world we heard from him often. Our rule that originated in my worry over earthquakes has fallen because of a quake and his decision that we weren't to worry, weren't to know until he'd returned safely to tell us where he'd been. I guess the next thing will be that we'll have to stop calling him the kid.