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Katrina, Part 2

The aftermath of Katrina continues to unfold. I have forgotten if this is week 3 or 4. The stories have shifted in tone from “how could this happen?” to “what happened?” to “who screwed up?” to “what will we do next?” In this stage, the news media has settled into a calmer analysis of the impact of Katrina for individuals and the nation. I feel more comfortable.

Three stories linger in my mind from the last couple of weeks. One was a posting on an on-line community of coaches. The author described his experience in being a survivor of Hurricane Claudette in 1979. He talked about how his house and those of his neighbors on his block quickly became flooded and how this street of survivors had banded together during the storm. The most chilling part of his story is what happened a year later—every couple on his block was undergoing divorce proceedings. Not just one couple. Every couple. The author stressed that it was a long block. The author’s point is that the worst is yet to come—the long-term impact on relationships, on lives, comes after reality has set in. After the television crews have gone home and the charity organizations have moved on to other disasters. Have we just seen the tip of the iceberg of human toll from Katrina?

The next two stories represent the flip side of disaster. Those who are not part of the disaster realize how much they have and how much they are able to give others.

I know of a group of women in a book club who decided to support one of the many families recently relocated to Denver from New Orleans. A woman from this book club had volunteered at the local Red Cross and been able to connect with a family of five—a father, a son and his wife, one toddler, and a six month old baby. This book club has about 10 members (all with a great sense of humor as their club is known as the Sip More Wine club.) Through a series of emails over a few days, the club members had located enough donations to furnish a two-bedroom apartment for five people. They figured out who had a truck and delivered the goods over the weekend. Donations came from the members as well as the people they run into everyday—including strangers in an apartment building who responded to a flyer in the lobby of the building. The group is now taking on more families to help them furnish new places to live.

There was an article in the Wall Street Journal recently about a family of illegal immigrants from Central America who lived in New Orleans, fled first to Texas and then to Tennessee. In their journey, they were welcomed and supported by the local Latino community—the recipients of fundraisers where the poor gave to the poorer. It is this outreach by the Latino community that is highlighted in the article. A side note of the article is that the adaptability required of an illegal immigrant (leaving one’s home country with nothing and starting over) is an advantage for this once again displaced population. Illegal immigrants figure out how to get jobs quickly, through their network, so that they can continue to send money home to their families outside the US.

I can’t help but marvel.

  • Human beings are incredibly resourceful.
  • We each have a network of resources to tap into. For many of us, this network can be wider and deeper than we realize.
  • We have a lot more stuff than we need.
  • Individuals self-organizing into a group for a focused task can come together quickly, with efficiency and great effectiveness.

If this is true, what does it mean for each of us and what is possible?

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  1. maria on September 21, 2005 at 8:59 AM

    Great post, Carol. I think you’re right that we’re barely in the beginning
    stages of seeing and understanding the impact of Katrina. There is so much more
    to come on that front, I think, both uplifting and sad.

    I had an ‘aha’ as I read about how the adaptability required of an immigrant is
    actually helpful in helping people start over. When I moved here with my family
    from Spain at the age of 8 (in 1970), my parents sent over two ‘steamer trunks’
    of things … mostly the beautiful hand-embroidered linens and other household
    things, and we brought our suitcases with clothes, and that was it. Granted, we
    had an aunt & uncle here, and they helped us get set up (well, for a while until
    there was some sort of falling out among the adults a month after our arrival),
    but really, it was like starting from scratch … and somehow we did okay.

    When I hear about people losing everything in natural disasters and try to put
    myself in their shoes, I often think that ‘it’s just stuff,’ and that the only
    material things I would REALLY want and need are my laptop (for all that it
    contains), my digital camera, and some key papers, and that I could just let
    everything else go if I really had to. I could be totally delusional, of course,
    and I don’t mean to minimize that traumatizing experience in any way, but
    perhaps it’s a little of what you wrote about … that having had that
    experience when I was younger of coming here with practically nothing, and
    somehow being provided for, creates some inherent sense of hope of faith that
    things will be okay somehow.

    Lots of good food for thought in your post, as always.

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