Let’s Be Crass Enough To Care…

So come on let’s be young, let’s be crass enough to care
(Love, Ire & Song ~ Frank Turner, 2008)

This whole last week I kept reading news online and offline. I talked to people and (over)heard people talk. And I felt like I should write another blog post about Paris. About Syria. About terror. About refugees. About all of this and more and how it’s all connected and how I think and feel about it. But then I never wrote it. Maybe because I still don’t know what to say. I don’t have any answers. I definitely don’t have a solution. Not for the whole big fucking mess anyway.

So instead of thinking about it and instead of thinking about writing about it, I finally, finally started doing. Something. For weeks I had planned to support the local non-profit organization, which volunteers formed to help and support the refugees, who were assigned to stay in our small-ish town. First step was to fill out my membership application to support them financially. I plan to also do some kind of volunteer work, as soon as I know more about what kind of support is needed. I don’t work in my hometown, but a one-hour drive away, so my time is limited. Still…

More immediate and maybe important was that I finally sorted through my wardrobe and chest of drawers to find the coats, boots, scarfs, hats, gloves I haven’t worn in a long time. Because winter coming – has arrived here today in fact –  and what good does it do to keep these items unworn in my wardrobe? On Friday I took them to the “shop” where all these items of clothing, but also crockery, cutlery and such are stored and distributed. My donation was accepted gladly and I also learned that things like towels  and socks are always sought as well.

Good, because I found a bag of socks I once must have put away (because my drawer had been overflowing?) and then had forgotten about. I also went through my assortment of towels and found a few I can easily spare. Because how many large bathing towels does a single houshold really need? Same goes for mugs. I used to collect them (from vacation, concerts, other occassions) but I already had to put some into a box in my basement, because my kitchen cupboard couldn’t hold the growing collection. Towels, socks and mugs are in their respective washers, so I can go donate these items next week.

Doing feels so much better than just thinking and writing.

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