Truly.
The director of the US Emergency Management Agency has finally been releived of duty in handling the disaster. Rightfully so. He wasted 2 days before taking action. He’s a bumble.
As for the thugs you mentioned Mike, you are right that those individuals are the sad bottom-of-the-social-barrel from the projects and poorest sections of New Orleans. They certainly do not represent the city any more than the thugs of London, New York, Los Angeles, Berlin, Paris, or any other large city represent theirs. If anyone suggests otherwise, they are simply being a pantywipe. I have lived in NO, and like any large city, it has its bad element. My experience there was wonderful. I loved the city and disliked the leadership. It was a city full of life and music and great food. However, it’s leadership in the police department and political arenas are quite corrupt - more than most cities in the world I think. Perhaps you’d have to live there to see what I mean. Ut had become a city that existed unto itself a bit too much. I personally did not like the twisted mix of religious fervor and moral dysfunction that comrised the city’s demeanor. It represented the best and worst of culture. But those thugs were the bottom-feedering oportunist low-lifes. They had their run-for-the-devil, and I am sure they have lost the race.
I live in Jackson, MS. My state took the brunt of the damage from Katrina. It routed the state and destroyed untold businesses and homes. It will be many years before MS fully recovers financially and materially.
Here’s something that I wrote for a web site about the disaster. Perhaps you’ll enjoy reading it.
I live in Jackson, Mississippi. My state received the brunt of katrina and her terrible rage. While I am blessed enough to have avoided the worst part of the effects of the hurriane, I nonetheless was effected by it, and many of those from my state are and will be effected by it for many years to come. While my experiences with this storm are unspeakably paled by the trajedies which others have endured, I felt compelled to relate them.
Monday, August 29, 2005. I am sitting in my comfortable apartment, clicking around on my PC. I lose my cable Internet connection. Spinning around in my chair, I turn to my room-mate Sharon, and say, “Damn. Lost connection.” What a pain in the ass. While I was aware that the hurricane was approaching the Gulf Coast of the US, particularly that of Mississippi, what I did not realize, because my seperation from the area 200 miles to the south, was that at that minute when I was losing my Internet connection, Poseidon and Thor had banded together, and were releasing thier pent-up rage on that portion of my state, hurling human beings through the air at 150 mph and leveling virtually every building for mile upon mile of coastal and inland areas. I did not really know; I did not truly realize, that while I was comfortable in my apartment complaining that I had just lost my connection to the Internet, that an unimaginable disaster of epic proportions was taking place, and that scores of people were going to die that very night.
Today, I have a new-found appreciation for the convenience of electrical power. I went without it for over a week. I also developed during that time darkness when candles and flashlights provided my access to the world around me, a greater appreciation for the lowly peanut butter sandwich. The entire city of Jackson, MS and it’s surrounding satelite cities - a metropolitain area of 300,000+ people, was completely dark and without electrical power. Under these circumstances, you cannot buy gasoline. You cannot buy groceries. You cannot take a hot shower. You cannot cook food. You cannot see anything outside of your door. The world takes on an earie, other-worldly feeling. In four days I would feel as though the world had gone mad and the ultimate mistake had been made. Kudos to the residents of Jackson, MS. Through the turmoil, gasoline shortage, lack of food and drinkable water, and law-enforced curfews, they remained calm, collected, and resolved to not only endure their circumstances, but banded together, like the forces which ravaged the state in the south, to come together and donate tons upon tons of food, water, and money to help those less fortunate on the Gulf Coast. I have learned a great respect for these people. However, they are Mississippians, and are renowned throughout the United States for thier hospitality and charity.
I was unable to contact my mother because of down phone lines. My father however, like myself, was fortunate renough to still have a phone. I worried about my Mom but did not have the gasoline to get to her house, miles into the county, to check on her. She’s a savy old gal though, and since she lived with my oldest brother and his wife, I felt that she was likely to be fine. Even though my brother was working in Florida at the time, I knew she’d be alright.
Gasoline had become instantly scarce. For the first few days it was not possible to buy any whatsoever. This bound tens of thousands of people to their homes, and I, like them, found myself unable to leave mine in fear of burning up what little gas was in my car in a search for a convenience store that had this critical substance we call gasoline. That evening I put batteries in a small radio and we sat in the darkness listening to the constantly updated reports of the disaster. On the second day, it became appearent that the situation could quickly become dire. I realized, having heard the reports on the radio, that things were worse for people in my area than I had at first imagined. The city was becoming wrestless and most of it’s residents were feeling the “setting-in” of the reality that electrical power and gasoline may be impossible to obtain for some time. It was time to make a break for a grocery store if there were any that were open, even if it were miles away.
I got out the phone book. I called every one of the 5 Wal-marts within my area to see if any were open. None were. Another day passed.
On the third day, with the windows and door of my apartment open to provide a small breeze in the 94+ degree heat of August in Miossissippi, I called all of the Wal-Marts again. Fotrune had it that the Pearl, MS location was open. Sharon and I grabbed the keys, put on our shoes, and dashed for the car. After ten miles of driving we arrived. The parking lot was almost full. “Good Lord. How are we going to do this?” I thought to myself. The atmosphere inside the store was one of mild but contained desperation. People were shopping at a moderately hurried pace, and everyone looked mildy stressed. Every check-out had a line 40 people deep, at least. I sped up and left Sharon behind. I knew it would make her mad, but I had a premonition. I knew that people were snatching loaves of bread and canned meat like crazy. I had to get some for us. My premonition was correct. When I got to the aisle where bread was kept, there were only about 15 loaves left of the hundreds that were once there. I grabbed 5 loaves for us and threw them into the buggy, and then I made a bee-line for the canned meats. I was less fortunate there. The only meat in a can that was left was salmon, and while I don’t like paying high prices, I raked 5 cans of it into the cart, knowing that we might be eating salmon or no meat at all for the next week or two. I moved on and managed to get my hands on 2 cans of white potatos, 5 cans of yams, 1 can of green beans, 4 cans of ranch-style beans, 5 cans of pork-and-beans, 2 cans of fruit coctail, 3 jars of peanut butter, 4 boxes of two types of crackers, a few apples and plums from the produce department, and four 8-packs of bottled water. We were lucky to get the bottled water - another stoke of luck. An employee wheeled a palette of it onto the floor in front of us, and before he even stopped to let it down to the floor, numerous packs of it had already been taken by shoppers. There were almost no canned foods left at all, and the store had not been open for more than a few hours.
The next day, I walked a few blocks to a hardware store and purchased a small, single burner outdoor cooker and 2 tanks of fuel for it. Now we could boil our own water if needed. Then, realizing that meat in a can (Oh yum!) was lacking in the pantry and at a premium in the very few grocery stores that had electical power, the next day we used almost all of the remaining gasoline in the car to make it to Wal-Mart and get some. Fortunately, an employee had just put a few cases of canned chicken and tuna on the shelves minutes before we got to the isle, and I snapped-up about 10 cans of tuna and 20 cans of chicken. There were no fresh meats or dairy products whatsoever in the store. Having been without electricity, the stores found themselves having to destroy all of it.
A boil-your-water notice was released by the city because the pumping stations did not have power. For the next 5 days, with the windows and door open to the apartment, Sharon and I sat and took turns fanning each other in the sweltering heat with a fan that I made from gift boxes from my closet and a wooden dowel. At night, we sat in candlelight and listened to the radio, learning of the terrible destruction and actions of our state’s agencies to provide assistance to those in need. We listened to our state’s governor, the President of the United States, and various agency heads tell of the disaster and what was being done in response to it. We felt belssed. With each passing day we came to learn more and more of the incredible human and material losses caused by Hurricane Katrina.
I finally got a phone call from my mom. She left home in her car to get to a pay phone and called me. She was fine. She had plenty of water and food. Gasoline was still scarce several days into the event, and lines at stations were long-to-absurdely-long. Some lines were 1/4 mile long or longer. I passed them knowing that the gas would run out before I could get to the pump. During this time, I relied on my resourcefullness and using the phone book, I searched by address for and made a list of every convenience store within 1 mile of my apartment. I called them daily, and twice got the information that a particular store would begin selling gas within an hour. We dashed to the car and sat in the vehicle in line to purchase gas in the heat with the windows down, unable to run the air conditioner for fear of running out of gas. Fortunately, because I had gotten the “scoop” by phone that gas would be available, we were the first car in line the first time, and about 30th the second time. Those two expeditions landed us a full tank of gasoline, and four gallons of gas for my dad’s puickup truck, which I delivered to him immediately. “Thanks a lot.” my dad said, as I poured the gas into his truck. My dad never says “Thanks a lot.” He’s a Korean War vet. He fought at Chosin Reservoir, the fiercest, most violent battle in the history of modern warfare, in -40 weather. He doesn’t thank anyone “a lot” for anything. He’s too independant. He’s a true survivor. Coming from him, I knew that he sincerely meant it, and that he realized what a help it was for me to bring him some gasoline.
As of this writing, we are still struggling to buy gasoline in Jackson, MS. My electrical power came on today. I saw the crew that repaired the lines down the block that provided the power from my apartment’s rear window. I dashed to the window and called out to them as they got into their truck to leave - “Hey guys! Thanks a lot!”
