Aug 31, 2017 3 min read

A newspaper columnist has her thinking cap on all the time, taking snippets of experience and tucking them up inside there, to be used when the next deadline approaches. My deadline for this column is Thursday around noon, and although I’m always thinking of my next topic, I tighten the strings of that cap on Wednesday nights.

What am I going to write about this week?

Zucchini, tomatoes, cucumbers – sometimes the column titles read like a grocery shopping list, and readers seem to enjoy those topics because there are lots of emails. This space is also known to be fraught with stories of hair, clothing, wrinkles, aging, household clutter and dogs. The Howard the Wheatie columns alone could fill a book.

All of which is to say I am never at a loss for a topic. Although I have a decent command of the English language, my real talent may lie in my ability to spin 600 words out of the piffle of life.

But not today, and not this deadline. How do I whine on and on about my everyday irritants and disappointments when south of here, people are sitting on their roofs hoping the rescuers reach them before the rising water does? All the usual topics seem frivolous.

This column has been in this space for 20 years now, and in that time, there have been disasters as huge as the Harvey flooding. I wrote about the suffering then (September 11 and Katrina, of course), but for some reason I feel less qualified to do so now. Maybe it’s because in the many years since those disastrous events, social media has grown to the point where we are awash in images, reporting, commentary and opinion. Not only do I have nothing unique to contribute to the dialogue, I don’t want to read what I have to say.

And what’s there to say? I wouldn’t know how to criticize the relief efforts in Texas and Louisiana. For every awful photo of elderly people sitting waist-deep in water in their nursing home, there are three other photos of handsome men carrying dogs, kids, moms and grandfathers through rivers. A family member of mine will drive all night to Houston, where he will work long, difficult hours for FEMA.

A major news outlet just ran a story saying most homeowners in Texas don’t have flood insurance. Less dire but also disturbing was the story about Texas fire ants being forced out of their underground tunnels and into huge, stinging masses floating in the waters.

I started and erased four different columns this morning: one about choosing paint colors, one about the deer family that has taken up residence in the side yard, one about being without a TV for a month, and one about these Facebook quizzes that always conclude that I’m a genius with a Mensa IQ.

Well, if I were such a genius, I would be able to write a smart, incisive and readable column about the flood. But it’s all being said and shown – and better than I could do here. I suppose I could encourage my readers to donate money to the American Red Cross or other reputable relief organizations, but I’m guessing that a lot of you have already done so. As have I. It wasn’t a whole lot, but it was something.

For once I find myself at a loss for words, but a bit of money always helps.

Beth Dolinar can be reached at cootiej@aol.com.