Floods in Texas and death in mysterious camp

My 10-year-old daughter will be here for a month’s sleep camp this summer, banning calls for the first six days, except for emergencies. The children then receive a short call once a week at the designated time. It’s also about how often the camp sends photos, your child may or may not. (I combed through these things, like what Dealey Plaza lost: people with badges, ladies Babushka, and my kids.) No private devices – tickets, iPad, GPS tracker – allowed. Instead, my daughter and I exchanged handwritten letters. Last year, I started to think she was funny and couldn’t write home, but in fact, she wrote five letters in seven days and they all arrived immediately.

I appreciate the restrictive communication policy of our camp and I know many other sleeping camps have taken similar approaches. Kids should be free to throw themselves into the camp – open, hike, crafts, singers, stage shows, play “Froccer” without tangling at home. Ideally, the camp where you live feels like a world, a secret witch ritual in the woods, immediately wild and independent. By the time the kids were old enough to participate, parents had years of practice entrusting them to the many awakenings of nannies, teachers and other nursing staff. To what extent it is to entrust these children to temporary society itself is a big but logical next step. Although parents may feel indulgent or uncomfortable, it is a pleasure to pause all control over children’s work for a few weeks and have the chance to miss your child. I’ll be happy occasionally and don’t have to think about her anymore.

Of the more than 90 confirmed victims, victims of catastrophic floods in central Texas began earlier on July 4, with twenty-seven of the dead being camper or counselor Mystic Camp Mystic, a women’s Christian camp in Kerr County, on the west bank of the Guadalup River. At least ten campers are still missing. Within forty-five minutes, the river rose about twenty-six feet, apparently sweeping the girl on the bunk while she was sleeping. The youngest child is eight years old. Yuma’s photos show mattresses torn from bunk beds, bedspreads, lunch boxes, sneakers, and stuffed animals into mattresses torn from dirt. In one photo, I saw a rescuer carrying a camper’s tie-dyed trunk. I had to turn around.

The disaster is still happening, and heavy rains are predicted in the next few days. As for the damage the region has suffered, there will be a lot of responsibility in about a few weeks, months and years. It is the National Weather Service, one of many federal agencies that have been hollowed out recently Dogestaffed and able to predict floods? Are local officials responding to the coming threat with appropriate speed and care? Should officials evacuate low-lying areas near the Guadalupe River (including bunks at Mystic Camps) on the afternoon of July 3, when the NWS’s Austin/San Antonio office issued flood surveillance? Why can’t Kerr County officials ensure fundraising and build flooded systems after a fatal disaster? (At a Sunday press conference, some of the questions were raised to the Kerr County Sheriff and the city manager, who suddenly ended the meeting and left the room as reporters continued to call.

Looking for someone or someone who can blame morality and reason. Blame, if properly placed, can stimulate action and save future lives. But blame is also a means of pattern searching of the human brain, oriented to the causal part, to capture control over a set of uncontrollable and incredible situations. When the child is hurt, her parents scramble to understand the sorrow and misfortune of their family and may rely on the closest people. If I keep my kids at home. If I hadn’t sent her to that camp. If it were just her, she was safe for me. If I did the job and protected her. Camp together about twenty miles east of the rodeo family of three (a family of three). The father has been confirmed dead, and his wife and son are still missing. ♦