All day Earl and I have watched the television, glued to the weather station and news of Hurricane Katrina as it wends its way inland through Louisiana and Mississippi.
It’s funny about associations. I once had a student named Katrina who was a forceful and direct as the current storm. I hadn’t thought of her in years, but as rain and wind pummeled New Orleans and Mobile she came to mind.
I picture her now as she was then. Braids, bangs, glasses, strident presence, loud voice, positive attitude. She was a force to be reckoned with; and I, a novice teacher, tried to tame her. Now a storm is named Katrina. It’s probably not in honor of my Katrina, but nevertheless it brings memories.
Today’s storm is also a memory-maker for those in her wake. Bourbon Street in the French Quarter of New Orleans is drenched; the Super Dome with its nine thousand refugees is also drenched; water is everywhere. Further east, Mobile has taken a direct hit; and it’s predicted torrential rains will soak everything from the Gulf Coast to western New York State.
Oil refineries are shut; highways are closed; power lines are down; personal suffering is up. One TV announcer said that Hurricane Katrina ultimately will be felt by everyone in the United States either personally or in the wallet, since oil refineries off the coast of Louisiana have shut down and are impacting the availability of what is called black gold.
It’s a harsh reminder that, even though we’ve discovered the formula for atomic bombs, Mother Nature still calls the shots with the biggest natural bombs of all.
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