A moment for Burma

I remember once, when I was very young, driving along the streets of New London, on our way to some un-exciting place in Southeastern Connecticut. My sister, always the antagonizer, was surely trying to find a way to annoy me, so I set about using my brain, although everything usually ended up with us at each other's throats. But I clearly remember somehow convincing her to say the word "truck" over, and over. Through repetition, the word itself lost its meaning, rolling over her tongue, turning into a verbal mash, like gum that has been chewed too long, losing taste and texture. It strikes me as odd, now, that words that we use so casually can lose their meaning, devoid of substance as they become somehow detached from their physical and mental manifestations.
The reason I say this is that, seeing the recent events of Burma's catastrophe unfold, that any words I can write here would just be absent, to some degree, of their intent. "Unforgettable" first came to mind, but why the superlative? I will certainly never forget my time there, but what will writing it do for you? What will you do for Burma? Do you even know where Burma is? Did you know that Myanmar is the same thing? Seriously. Check a map, I'll wait....
Burma was one of the single-most beautiful places I have ever been blessed to see. To sit atop the temples of Bagan, watching a storm roll in across the banks of the Irrawaddy, it brought me to a place of peace that I have seldom felt in my 28 years. The environmental destruction of a cyclone felt by millions of Burmese is probably nothing more than a whisper of a breeze by the time it reaches you and I, snug and warm in sheltered places. Despite the devastation and oppression the Burmese people are facing at this very moment, it is more likely that Burma means as much to you as "truck" did to my sister, so many years ago. Don't let this happen. Speak up, write down, give out anything you can. For them, for us.