Being the News
When my 78-year old Mom gasped, I wheeled around. On CNN, Wolf Blitzer had cut to a reporter in a helicopter flying over New Orleans. They were headed to St. Bernard Parish (county), where Mama Pizzo has lived since my Dad returned from Korea.Like watching a slow train wreck, we stared transfixed as bridges and roads we knew came into view above the flood waters. As the chopper flew slowly down the main thoroughfare, we traded knowing glances. This would be the first media report we've seen showing her neighborhood.
Sure enough, in the blink of an eye, her subdivision came into view. There was her pharmacy. A few seconds later, we saw the church and senior center where she lunched regularly. In a few surreal seconds, the new Wal-Mart Supercenter came into view, then grocery stores and other places at which she shopped.
All under water.
It's one thing to watch the news, yet another to be the news. It can be unnerving at times. While others see a city in ruins, we see familiar landmarks. We are haunted by memories and the realization that nothing will ever be the same. Friends and family are now dispersed over eleven states; the thought of a casual barbecue with familiar faces seems remote.
That was Katrina. When Rita came through the Gulf, it brought another tidal surge that flooded St. Bernard Parish a second time. I told Mom she should consider herself special - how many people can say they've been wiped out twice in one month? Not one to miss a counter punch, she retorted that she upgraded her home to an indoor swimming pool.
Humor is something the hurricane can't take away. Maybe it's a defense mechanism, but we're coping even as we cling to the images on TV like an ant to a crumb at a picnic.
We're starving for the New Orleans we knew and love.
posted by CP for Ragan @ 8:50 AM
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