Ken Del Rossi

when i heard about the tsunami, I was in a coffee shop at Michigan and Wabash in Chicago, next to the river, eating a scone. It was two days after Christmas. I had my brand-new iPod attached to my belt. I was in a good mood.

The newspaper headline read “Death toll at 18,000.”

The next day, I went shopping at Water Tower Place, a glittery, eight-level extravaganza amid the retail province known as the Magnificent Mile. Nearby, at the American Girl store, moms and daughters were lined up at the salon, waiting to pay $30 for a cut and style. For their dolls.

The newspaper headline read “Death toll reaches 44,000.”

Returning to our hotel, I sat on the wide window seat in our room, 12 floors up, and watched the traffic pass below. Drank a glass of wine. And another.

The TV report showed pictures of a man being swept out to sea; waves enveloping fleeing beachgoers; a demolished house. A family was looking for their 2-year-old son, ripped from his father’s arms.

We went to a comedy club that night, Chicago’s famous Second City troupe. Laughed and laughed and laughed. Bought a souvenir beer glass, just because.

Breakfast at our corner coffee shop. The newspaper headline read “Death toll could exceed 100,000.” Twice the population of Palo Alto, I said, and my wife nodded. Footage on the TV in the corner showed an orphaned boy sitting alone at a shelter, his face a mask of despair and hopelessness. There will be thousands like him, said the newscaster.

We flew home. The holidays were over. The newspaper headline said “GSB student missing.”

The University organized a vigil, and a memorial service was held for James Hsu, the student now assumed dead. His Business School classmates launched a fund-raising effort on behalf of the Red Cross.

Stanford Student Relief was formed, a coalition of 20 different groups to support tsunami victims. Organizers worked around the clock. They pestered administrators for access and help. Got commitments. Some went door-to-door at dorms to spread the word and solicit donations.

The headline in the Daily read “Fundraising goal: 100k for tsunami relief.”

The money went to Save the Children. “Helping children is helping a whole generation of people,”SSR co-chair Srihari Yamanoor, a graduate student in mechanical engineering, told the Daily.

A realization bore down on me. This is what I miss when I’m away from here: the attachment to an enterprise that makes a difference; that transcends the particular world I inhabit. Call it community. Call it connectedness. Call it Purpose.

Not available in your local department store.