Today, in Baton Rouge, I was interviewing a sad man to see if he qualified for hurricane relief aid, just like I've been doing for twelve or more hours every day for the last ten days. Most of the people I interview are sad. When I got to the column of household members, I saw two people listed.
"Is that your wife?" I ask.
"Is she currently living with you?"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, the person has to be living in your household to qualify. Where is she staying at?"
"My wife went back home right before the storm. I think she may be dead."
I finished the form (he qualified) and walked out of my little office into the hallway. One of my supervisors saw me, and told me to take my lunch break. I went to the bathroom to wash my hands, locked the door, broke down crying, loud face-stretching sobs, cleaned my face off, went to lunch, went back to work. Tomorrow is my office's last day of hurricane relief interviews. Thank God. I don't think I can do this much longer.