by
John David Powell
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.
John David Powell is an award-winning Internet columnist and
writer, and a contributor to the Christian History Project. His email
address is
johndavidpowell@yahoo.com.
The opinions expressed in
this column represent those of the author and do not necessarily reflect
the opinions, views, or philosophy of TheRealityCheck.org, Inc.
