Haiti. There is only one word I can think to describe it: heartbreaking. If you’re like me, you want desperately to reach through your television screen to help rescue earthquake victims from the rubble, you want to feed the children crying out for food, you want to hug those who have lost their loved ones and tell them everything will be all right—even if you know it won’t be for a long, long time.
  I know quite a bit about earthquakes, and not only because I have written a few nonfiction children’s books about them. I live in Seattle, a.k.a. a stop on the Pacific Rim Ring of Fire. Making your home atop tectonic plates that are constantly shifting and scraping and bumping is dicey stuff. In my lifetime, I’ve experienced the eruption of Mt. St. Helens, along with dozens of earthquakes—small tremors that have only frightened me and big shakers that have damaged my home. Living in earthquake country, you are always wondering: will the next rumble be the big one? You take comfort in telling yourself you are prepared. I have earthquake insurance. I have stored food, water, a first aid kit, and other earthquake supplies. And then something catastrophic happens and you know it is all an illusion. You are not prepared. You will never be prepared. Looking into the fearful, grief-stricken eyes of the Haitians, I know that could easily be me. Or you. Please give as you are able to the disaster relief organization of your choice.


Get more on Trudi Trueit at SimonandSchuster.com