It seems an odd coincidence of the season that we find
ourselves remembering Hurricane Katrina 10 years back, bailing out from an
overwhelming “no name” storm that dumped feet of rain over three weeks upon
most of Tampa Bay and some areas north, and watching with some anxiety the
moving track of Erika, whose potential remains as uncertain as her path.
Hurricane Katrina continues to remind us both of the extraordinary
fury of nature unleashed and the failings of our human response in the face of
disaster. Remembering, and watching the afternoon storm roll in, my mind drifts
back to the words of a rebel whose last name, if not his lineage, I share.
Words written when human disaster threatened his city, and many a neighbor
simply turned a blind eye or hoped (a hope that certainly would have proven to
be in vain) that the disaster would spare them.