Although I have been doing a lot of watching and listening, when it comes to our nation’s recent tragedy – Hurricane Katrina – I have yet to take the time to actually say anything. Looking ahead in my life, I can already see my puzzled expression when I look back through these volumes to realize that I never took the time to really articulate the profound impact this has on our lives…on our society…on our humanity.

As I have watched the endless hours of footage of a city underwater, people wandering aimlessly on freeway offramps or trapped on rooftops – houses entirely submerged – there is a certain amount of shock that settles in. You are horrified and saddened and wonder how – in America, in 2005 – we are so quickly reduced to a third world nation. Is this really happening? Is this really as horrific as it looks on tv? Was this storm really that much more powerful that all the others that sweep this region every single summer? And why, days and days later are there still people without food, water or a place to sleep?

The shock wears off quickly when it all of a sudden arrives on your doorstep. The stories of your friends and coworkers who have friends or family who no longer have homes or jobs – and in some cases no reasons to go back. Today, in a department-wide staff meeting, we were updated as to the status of various coworkers’ family members and told of the CSU’s commitment to provide educational refuge for any of the displaced students from the Gulf Coast Area (in doing rounds today I also noticed that Andrea actually put together a post outlining which other campuses were providing similar relief.)

The ultimate reality check occurred today when I went to get gas today to find a line snaking probably 50 cars long. In one 24-hour period, gas prices jumped 25 cents a gallon, and I heard unsubstantiated rumors on the radio that they would rise a full dollar by the weekend.

The ripples of this tragedy have left no one behind.

One of the things that I find most frustrating right now is the incessant need of newscasters and “concerned citizens” and even the president to spend this precious time and energy trying to blame and point fingers. I guess that is what we – as ‘murkans do. Someone’s gotta pay.

Thousands and thousands of people are still without water, shelter or food and the heads of relief agencies are sitting in interviews with perfectly coiffed news anchors having to answer questions that basically boil down to “whose fault is this?” WHO CARES?! PEOPLE NEED YOU HELPING THEM RIGHT NOW! The national guard can’t seem to get it together to keep people from looting, supplies aren’t getting where they need to go and people are now 5 days without water. The questions shouldn’t be “whose fault?” it should be “what else can we be doing to help?”

When it comes to helping, I heard an interesting piece of information when it comes to donating – specifically in regards to the Red Cross. When you make your donation (cash is really the best way to donate right now) don’t specify Katrina. Just make a general donation. The agency becomes limited in its ability to spend funds when monies are specified for specific purpose. The story goes, that after 911, there were hundreds of millions of dollars surplus that were only allowed for 911 recovery efforts, and that due to regulatory issues it has been difficult to use those monies for other relief efforts.

I can remember so clearly our travels through the gulf coast – the hurricaine evacuation route signs scattered along the highways. I remember picturing what it would be like – people dutifully following these signs escaping to safety. The images of motionless packs of cars clogging every exit route was so far from that vision.

We stayed in the New Orleans french quarter and drove down canal street. We visited those old buildings that pre-dated any history we could conjure from our depleted memories. We saw the cemetaries with the crypts holding bodies above ground, because burying them in earth that lies below sea level does no good. We were educated about the architecture that has been adapted over the years because of all the floods and fires that have plagued this city. This place had seen its share of hardship.

We drove through Biloxi Beach – I clearly remember seeing those floating casinos that ultimately ended up ashore. As we drove along the highway the water was right there. The thought of a 20+ foot seawall surging forward is still baffling to even concieve.

I know the area will recover…eventually, but if there was one thing that struck me about this area was it’s authenticity. It was old. It was historic. It hadn’t become ‘anywhere, America.’ There were stories to tell about every building and every street. It is sad to think that has been chipped away, even a little bit.