The good news from Katrina: Time for a reality check
By John David Powell (09/05/05)
Houston - Putting down the first sentence of a column,
or any piece of writing for that matter, sometimes is
the hardest part. And so it is with this piece, so
I’ll stop fretting and start typing.
I cannot remember when I have been as embarrassed and
disgusted with my former profession than this past
week as I watched and listened to the jackals of
journalism muddy the already-disturbed waters of
misery and woe.
The dictionary defines a jackal as a doglike, foraging
mammal who feeds on small animals and carrion. A
jackal also is a lackey who aids in the commission of
base or disreputable acts. How fitting and defining
of a proud and essential profession. A paradox,
indeed.
Let’s get this out of the way upfront: The Hurricane
Katrina disaster response and relief left a lot to be
desired. It ranged from slow to non-responsive.
Bureaucrats and politicians from the deliciously
decadent streets of New Orleans, to the
corruption-stained lobbies of Baton Rouge, to the
painfully partisan leadership of Washington share
unequal slices of Failure’s humble pie. And it is a
big pie with plenty of good-sized portions to go
around.
But the slowness of the disaster relief is no excuse
for the over-the-top sensationalism displayed by
members of this nation’s news and information media.
The most sickening and disturbing example occurred
here in Houston on the night the first evacuees
arrived at the Astrodome.
KTRH, the ABC affiliate, broke into its regular
late-night fare to tell us that the fire marshal
closed the facility because it had reached its
capacity on the floor. This resulted in officials
directing the busses packed with weary and bewildered
survivors to move on to Dallas and San Antonio. A
disturbing and unsettling fate, to be sure.
The station’s reporters did not stop there. I watched
with amazement bordering upon stupefaction as one
reporter repeatedly attempted to elicit rage and
despair from evacuees with a line of questions that
went like this:
“Tell us, you survived the hurricane and the terrible
conditions in the Superdome and the 18-hour bus ride
from New Orleans thinking that you could get into the
Astrodome only to be told that you can’t get in and
that you may have to go to San Antonio or Dallas.
Tell me, how does that make you feel?”
When an evacuee did not provide the requisite wrath,
the reporter repeated the question, each time ignoring
obvious clues to a more compelling story, such as one
evacuee’s reponse: “Yeah, I survived the hurricane by
hanging onto a tree then swimming to safety.”
It is time for a nationwide reality check. At this
writing, it is six days and 12 hours since Katrina
struck. Katrina plus six. As of yesterday – Katrina
plus five – the world witnessed the conclusion of
history’s largest and fastest relocation of human
beings. Two million souls moved safely from an area
the size of Great Britain in about 144 hours, if one
counts the day before Kristina.
That is like evacuating the population of Beeville,
Texas, or Brainerd, Minn., every hour of every day for
six consecutive days.
Where they went and where they will go are the stories
we will tell our great grandchildren, who will tell
theirs.
The evacuees came to Houston, Texas, which admitted
their children into the public schools, which
re-opened admission into its colleges and
universities, and which opened its convention centers
and private homes.
The evacuees went to Ruston, La., which took in nearly
3,000 into its shelters and churches. And they went
to Bastrop and Minden, too.
They went to Blytheville, Ark., up by Memphis, and to
the old Fort Chafee over by Fort Smith.
They went to Albuquerque and to Salt Lake City.
The governor of Minnesota said to come on up, and the
governor of Washington said they have room for a
couple of thousand.
And while evacuees headed north and east and west,
they moved past aid heading south and west and east.
Some evacuees may have seen nine school buses from
Webster Parish, La., whose drivers did not know where
they were going, only that they were to head south.
The Wabash River floods every spring, and so the
people living along its banks know quite well the
ravages of nature out of control. That is why
businesses in Vincennes sponsored a block party to
raise money for the American Red Cross hurricane
relief fund. That is why a church is sending a truck
carrying diapers, bottled water, and blankets.
Up the river is Terre Haute, whose Wabash Valley
Chapter of the American Red Cross has six volunteers
in the Gulf Coast with more helping hands on the way.
Churches of that city will send trucks filled with
water, food, fuel, sleeping bags, toilet paper,
flashlights and batteries, tarps, ropes, diapers, and
school supplies.
It is a nation of communities, large and small, of
every ethnicity and religion, stepping up and reaching
out to strangers, friends, and families.
It is the overarching story of the greatness of the
American heart. It is the story that needs to be told
again and again. It is what makes us the envy of the
world.
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