Lying on his back and waiting for the water to go down, Ted said, “I don’t think you know what it means to have ridden out such a storm and still be alive. It has given me a perspective I wouldn’t have had otherwise. I came from a place where to the closest thing to this is a tornado. No one would want to be hit by a tornado. But we have survived something equal to that. Our house survived it; our apartment may have flooded but the ceiling and walls are intact. We should consider ourselves lucky. But now having had this experience, we’ll have more in common with the people here. So this storm has a bright side. Besides it was invigorating. I’m sure there were heavy losses, and it will take some time to assess that. And I hope and pray that the causalities were minimal. But from tragedy people find strength. We have our weaknesses, we have our failures, and life can be cruel. But perhaps it takes surviving a typhoon to understand the big picture. I don’t wish it on anyone, but if there’s no way to dodge a storm, then you might as be philosophical. And before we tackle this mess, and recover as much as we can, I would like to give thanks to God for being with us.”
From his past he remembered a short homily. Slowly, and looking at no one, he gave it almost verbatim.
Then he said, “They’re asleep; let them sleep. The mess itself can wait. Rescue teams may be called for; rebuilding might be slow; but by and by it will all be rebuilt. It will become a national priority. You can count on Marcos for that. Some will cheer his efforts. Others will complain. But it could’ve been worse, it can always be worse, and may we all learn what we can from it. There is always something that can be learned. We all know that well enough. And it is, rather, in the spirit of optimism, knowing how this city has rebounded in the past, I know its future is bright.”
He repeated the following, “ The toughest job you’ll ever love, the Peace Corps; and ‘nothing carries the spirit of American idealism and expresses our hopes better and more effectively to the far corners of the earth than the Peace Corps’- JFK.” “Day after day, hour by hour, from situation to situation, our job is never done. Now as we cross this city, with the roads destroyed, traffic stalled, houses blown away, lives lost, it will be days…weeks…before electricity is restored, we’ll do what we can do to help. But we’ll have to start by helping ourselves. The rebuilding, restoring our apartment, and then at last, with everyone pitching in, we’ll get things pretty much back to normal.” As he thought about all of this, he wondered what the hell he was doing over there.
Ted and his wife looked at the mud-covered floor with disdain. Susan cried. Linda, their maid, stood upright and began the process of shoveling out the muck. Ted, mentally, wasn’t ready to start, and that, more than any other, was the reason why he failed to sweep the sentiment out with the water. He put it off until it was too late, while Susan simply didn’t know where to start. To her it was overwhelming. There was nothing in her past that she could compare this with, but she was doing her best, and, with her best, the tears came. She found herself, to her surprise, thinking of Mr. Araya; and then she began thinking about the school. Now standing beside Linda, who had turned the shovel over to Ted, and was busy hauling mud out with a bucket, she tried to smile.
Ted, of the Peace Corps, now was more than ever aware of what it meant to be a volunteer. He hadn’t given up. Once or twice he had thought of quitting. And then he began philosophizing. He knew he had to get up and sweep the sediment out with the water. “Ask not what your country can do for you. But through service you’ll find your life enhanced, and you’ll go away with more than you gave. Service is the key.” He picked up the broom, albeit late, and started sweeping the mud in front of him. He made no headway.
Susan said, “Why don’t you give Linda a break with the bucket before she breaks her back.”
Linda relinquished the bucket and promptly took over the shoveling, and the work continued in that way. The work was hard. When people later spoke of Typhoon Eddie, it was in terms of how hard it was. Ted and Susan spelled each other; Linda never took a break. Ted would stand up, stretch his back; and would take either the bucket or the shovel away from Linda. Susan would tell her to slow down. Ted was surprised by how hard Linda worked. But neither he nor Susan said anything about it.
Ted, after half a day, could see an end in sight. He said mischievously, “Why don’t we go down the street and see what else we can do. I’m sure there are people out there hurting.”
“You must be kidding.”
“Stop your bitching.”
“I’m not bitching.”
Randy Ford
The Brainpan 