The Omnipresent Storm

Friday the 29th is the third anniversary of the landfall of our omnipresent storm, Hurricane Katrina, the most powerful storm to strike America since scientists began measuring such calamities.

Hurricane Katrina was three times the size of Rita or Andrew or Camille in the sheer energy it generated, lifting the waters of the sea at least 10 feet above sea level for a span of 200 miles. This storm surge, 30 feet high at the midpoint, filled Lake Pontchartrain to unprecedented levels and toppled the walls of the city’s drainage canals at seven different locations.

And there you have it—Mother Nature’s swirling gift that just keeps on spinning.
Not a day goes by—maybe even a waking hour—that I don’t somehow encounter this storm in my memory. Driving through Lakeview I see a new home and think, “They didn’t elevate it much. I guess they’re betting on the levees.” I see a vacant lot where a home used to sit and wonder, “Is that family living nearby or still displaced by the storm?”

I walk our church parking lot and lament the loss of trees, poisoned by salt water, that we worked so hard to keep alive the first year at our new site. I’ll think to myself, “Where is that cabinet we used for display?” and then remember, “Oh, yes, we lost it in the storm.”

If my surroundings don’t remind me of Katrina, the people around me are sure to do it. Every conversation about education, healthcare, housing, economic development, or criminal justice has its Katrina component. I visited the Orleans Parish House of Detention a few days ago and was reminded that hundreds of inmates still live in tents—remnants of the great storm.

Someone moves away, and I think of Katrina. Someone new arrives, and I think of Katrina. Is this coming and going related to the storm? Often it is.

Pick any day. Three of the five front page stories in our local newspaper will likely feature some dimension of recovery from the storm. Brad Pitt is building homes in the Lower Ninth Ward. Potential locations for the new VA hospital are being debated. A billion dollars is available to rebuild Orleans Parish school facilities.
The great storm stalled directly above us and continually pumps its downpour on our city. Across the span of our individual and collective lives, we have had precious little relief from this barrage in these three years.

And there’s more to come. The reminders will not evaporate with the passing of August 29.

Am I stuck in this fierce wind forever? Can my mind ever paddle out of this flood?
It’s too soon to tell, I guess, even after three years. As long as gaping caverns in our streets threaten to devour my vehicle, I will think of Katrina. Until the new hospitals are part of our skyline, until the inmates are eight to a cell instead of 14, I will think of Katrina. Until the schools, the levees, and the vast stretches of flood-blighted neighborhoods are rebuilt, I will always think of Katrina.

And, I guess, if our new approach to public education really works, and students enjoy an environment more conducive to learning, I will enjoy some measure of gratitude for Katrina. If Charity Hospital re-emerges as a state-of-the-art haven for the sick, I will give thanks for Katrina.

For heaven’s sake, if the Saints win the Superbowl or the Hornets top the NBA, I am going to be thinking of Katrina—the difficulties we have overcome, the problems we have solved, and the joy we have experienced in the journey from what felt like a watery grave to what looks like a successful community bequeathing a spirit of courage and determination to coming generations.