Mrs. Pinney is a jovial redhead just like her daughter, Tiffany,
one of my old roommates from college. A principal at one of
Louisiana’s toughest junior high schools, she’s miraculously soft
and sweet.
Mrs. Pinney is a jovial redhead just like her daughter, Tiffany, one of my old roommates from college. A principal at one of Louisiana’s toughest junior high schools, she’s miraculously soft and sweet.
Every semester, at the end of term, Mrs. Pinney and her mother – Tiff calls her Mumua – would fly out to visit us in Los Angeles with the same excuse.
“Well, it’s just too much for Tiffany to carry all by herself,” she’d say, stuffing Hollywood souvenirs into her extra suitcase along with Tiff’s colorful plastic plates and 800 pairs of shoes.
But the happy memories I have of Mrs. Pinney, the exciting nights I spent in New Orleans last year while visiting Tiffany and the Big Easy weren’t on my mind last week. Instead, I was distracted, obsessively checking my e-mail every couple of hours for any sign of Tiffany or her mom or her grandma. I looked for any word about the residents of Jefferson Parish, and I scanned the faces in pictures and news footage, looking for a sign – any sign – of my friend and her family. I’m frustrated when CNN shows the same images over and over, and I’m not the only one.
When Hurricane Iniki smashed into the island of Kauai in 1992, Vicky Tamashiro was the one waiting.
“It’s a sense of anxiety, frustration, anger,” said Tamashiro, assistant program director for Chamberlain’s Mental Health in Gilroy. “You’re looking desperately for the people you love. I remember calling the newspaper and complaining, asking why they didn’t show more than the same thing over and over again. The guy said, ‘Ma’am, we can’t get around on the island.’ It hadn’t occurred to me.”
The anxiety of not knowing, said Tamashiro, is worse than knowing a loved one’s fate one way or another.
“We all have this need to help, and to be there for our family, and the not knowing tears you apart inside,” Tamashiro said. “What if they’re hurt? What if they’re gone?”
Here, safe and dry in California, for days, I couldn’t help but wish I knew. Luckily, I heard from Tiffany, and she’s OK.
On CraigsList.com’s New Orleans page, the lost and found section lists entry after entry with titles like, “Where is my family?” or “Looking for Fern & Wallace Richards.” New Web sites have sprung up, too. FindKatrina.com and KatrinaCheckIn.com allow concerned friends and relatives to post information on missing loved ones.
“It’s kind of like in 9/11,” said Tamashiro. “I remember watching all these people on the news talking about how they were going to go to New York and find their brother because they knew that if anyone was going to make it out alive, he would and he could. I said, ‘You look at the building and the way it fell, and you know they didn’t get out,’ but my friend looked at me and said, ‘If it was my brother, I’d think he could make it out, too.’ These people aren’t able to deal with the reality, but I think that for them to keep going, they need that hope.”
People who cannot find their loved ones may be best helped by crisis counselors, said Tamashiro. If no one is available, she suggested contacting a local crisis agency or church.
