This month I remembered the victims of 9/11 as I listened to the
cries of our nation’s latest casualties, Katrina’s survivors.
This month I remembered the victims of 9/11 as I listened to the cries of our nation’s latest casualties, Katrina’s survivors.
Like others, I found myself comparing these two American tragedies – different in so many ways and yet so vaguely familiar.
Both events overwhelmed leaders and emergency teams. In spite of training and technology and state of the art equipment – they struggled to comprehend the incomprehensible and come up with a workable plan.
Both events affected us nationally.
And, both events inspired thousands of Americans to donate millions of dollars.
But the two catastrophes differ in vital ways as well.
September 11, 2001 was carried out by men who hate us and all we stand for. Their purpose was to rob us of our security and financial stability while destroying as many lives as possible.
Though the terrorists planned for years, we had no warning. Without a sliver of foreboding, three airplanes crashed, two towers fell and 2,617 Americans died.
Obviously, I could cite many more details but I’m anxious to get to the good news. The plan backfired. Three firemen raised a flag over twisted chunks of steel and we rallied around it. We were Americans. United. Under one flag. Our actions said, “You can crush but not destroy. You can conquer but not divide.”
Katrina was an act of nature. During certain seasons, the ocean winds and water temperature create massive storms with incredible power. Katrina was the worst. She spanned 400 miles (from here to San Diego) with gust force winds of 145-175 miles per hour.
After tipping Florida, reports warned that she was going to cross the Gulf of Mexico and hit more of our southern states. As time ticked on, it became clear that she’d hit somewhere in Louisiana as a category four or five hurricane.
People moved into hurricane prep mode. They shuttered windows, bolted down awnings, and stayed in doors. Nervous leaders began encouraging residents to evacuate. But, convinced that she’d be like other hurricanes they’d weathered, residents stood their ground and waited for her to come.
For days, Katrina pummeled the Gulf states. And then … the unthinkable happened. Winds whipped, rain fell, levees broke, and the water rushed in. Emergency plans failed. Flooding. Drowning. Babies. Seniors. Patients. Pets. Death. Destruction.
Leaders and ordinary people like you and I begged for help. We saw a man with cardboard strapped to his feet for shoes. We saw a boy standing in front of a corpse in a wheelchair. We saw a family holding a plea for rescue from their roof while water lapped at their toes.
Eventually boats, helicopters, buses and planes removed the living. Survivors, with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, were sent to cities all over our country. Many wondered if their loved ones had made it and how they would ever find them.
So much sadness in the wake of one storm.
And yet … already I’m hearing stories that breed hope …
I’ve heard that over half of the survivors don’t intend to go back. They’re out now and they want to keep moving forward.
I can’t help but wonder … if that storm hadn’t put a thorn in their nest, would they ever have found a reason to leave the cycle of poverty, a way of life that wasn’t working?
I heard about one man who had been bused to Utah. With obvious good humor, he described himself as a “black man in a sea of white faces.” He saw people staring at him and concluded that it wasn’t so much the color of his skin but that Utahans have never seen anyone with dreadlocks before. In spite of the stares, he likes the people and the opportunities and feels he has something to contribute.
When the reporter asked him if he’d go back to New Orleans, he replied, “No. I’ve got a job. I’ve got a place to stay. This is home now.”
I’m beginning to believe that this American diaspora may be a positive force for both those choosing to put down new roots and those welcoming them in. Culture, foods, language, skills and even hair styles will be exchanged and experienced.
I believe, (once the blame game is over), we’ll be better for having endured another trial. As a nation. Learning. Growing. Changing. And, always … remembering.
