So. The Hurricane.

Like most people, I suppose, I spent the last week in a state of shock. On Monday, when I saw on the news that Katrina was a category 5 hurricane and headed for New Orleans, I went out on Google and looked online for information about 'worst-case scenario' for New Orleans and hurricanes.

I discovered that studies had been done in the past two decades, predicting exactly what ended up happening. The term 'filling the bowl' was used in a study I found online that was published in the 1980's. Of course, nothing was done, and now it is too late. Whom do we blame for this? No one agency will step up and take responsibility; neither local, state, or federal. There will be mass finger-pointing, blame sidestepping, foot shuffling, and so on. Oh, there will be a blue-ribbon panel, all right. And they'll have hearings, and they'll discover in due time that there were studies predicting this very scenario long ago and that something should have been done. Democrats will use the results to point fingers at Republicans - and vice-versa. Cries of racism, calumny, and skulduggery of epic proportions will be bandied about, but nothing will be done. Of course, the findings of this blue-ribbon commission will be released just prior to the next election, to be used as a tool. Did you expect anything else?

The truth is, there are any number of communities across the USA - around the world, really - with problems like that of New Orleans. Maybe not as extreme, but problems just the same. The potential for real human suffering is often identified and recommendations made - and no action is taken. Why? Because we're human. Lazy, cheap, selfish, and busy. Tired and worn out. Overtaxed and overworked. No politician is going to propose floating a bond issue or raising taxes to fix a problem that some science egg-head says might happen sometime in the future. Politicians get votes by lowering taxes - by cracking down on violent crime - by getting tough with welfare cheats. They don't get votes by fixing bridges that haven't fallen down yet - especially if it means raising YOUR taxes to do it.

The last time a politician did something because it was the right thing to do for the country and not because it was popular was Seward's Folly. I'm not blaming politicians - it's just the way things work, eh?

Anyway, back to New Orleans. All I know is that the worst happened, and it is horrible. I don't think that global warming caused it, nor the intellectual shortcomings of George W. Bush. I don't think that the slow response was the result of hidden or overt racism or hatred of all things gumbo. Like most Americans, I am saddened and hurt by the things I've seen and read this last week. The slow response is maddening - the human tragedy is heartbreaking. The attacks by human beings against each other are terrifying, much of the anger and resentment understandable. We've seen a lot of Americans in the past who were put into horrifying circumstances and who rose to overcome the obstacles placed in their way - this time we saw that, but we also saw the worst of what man can do to man. The only horror we were not subjected to was cannibalism, as far as I know.

Mrs. Wiggy and I are doing what we can. Contributing financially, assisting in getting the call for more relief funds out, and praying. We know that all good people everywhere share our concern and are doing what they can, too.

As it turns out, we had made plans with our good friends the Tweedles to visit New Orleans on our vacation this year - October 7th through the 15th was to be the Wigster's first visit to the city. We had found a good hotel in the French Quarter, the Tweedles had made plane reservations, the hotel was paid for, and all was in readiness. We were really looking forward to it.

The disruption of our vacation plans is as nothing compared to the tragedy that has befallen those who live there - we would in no way compare our loss of vacation destination to their losses of home, jobs, family and friends. It is just sad that we can't go now - we would have enjoyed it immensely, I am sure.

Now we have to find another location for the four of us to get together - we're exploring options in Pennsylvania and Vermont and the North Carolina Outer Banks, among others. But of course, it won't be just the same as a visit to New Orleans would have been.

Will New Orleans be rebuilt? I have no way of knowing, but I'd guess that in a way it will be. There will be corporate-sponsored "French Quarter (TM)" and it will have all the authenticity that money can buy - only a whole lot better. Instead of the chance of actually being mugged down some dark alley off of Bourbon Street, there will be actors who will play the part - but go along with the gag, folks, you'll get your wallet back after the show (with a free coupon for a ride at Frenchie's amusement park for being a sport). There will be beads, but no flashing and no public urination - the new New Orleans will be family-friendly. Eh, I could be wrong.

So, Mrs. Wiggy and I needed a break, emotionally. We went to Wilson's First Friday's event again - always a treat. This time, we saw a band called "Friends" play Gospel and put the Word into the people. What a blast!

On Saturday, I worked on my yard just about all day. Went for a bicycle ride (oh yeah, I guess I should say I just bought a bicycle to pedal some of my fat ass off) and that was a real hoot. I really like bicycling. Didn't put out anyone's car window with my electric edger this time, which I feel is a good thing. That reminds me, I'm going to blog about bicycling and how it ought to be done properly, but not tonight.

Today, I felt like indulging the strange creative Thing in my brainpan. Nourish the Beast, as it were. I set my camera tripod up on the front porch and stuck a WWII surplus bomber lens on it, then attached it to my digital camera, and took some photos. I stuck a bunch of weeds in Mrs. Wiggy's best Waterford Crystal vase and I call it 'Weeds and Waterford' for lack of a more creative name. Here they are, for good or ill:

So, we turn this page. Heavy of heart, sad in the soul. Wishing for some zydeco music to lift us up, a tune, a beat, a stomp that can set us free from this gut-wrenching sickness all around us.

Steve Riley and the Mamou Playboys, maybe.

Mes enfants, mes enfants. Give us peace.

Better Days,

Wiggy