Sixteen years
Katrina’s lessons prepared Louisiana
“It’s really bad out here.”—Text message Sunday afternoon from Thibodaux, La.
Sixteen years ago this Methodist was attending Mass at Holy Souls. Hurricane Katrina was making a beeline for the mouth of the Mississippi and New Orleans at the time. I remember that it seemed appropriate to pray in a Catholic church for a Catholic town. The fact that Pulaski Heights United Methodist Church does not have a 5:30 service on Sundays factored into my thinking as well.
As I explained in a piece I wrote for this paper’s Religion page—no lie—about my afternoon with the Catholics, New Orleans and I go way back. I got my law degree at Tulane almost 40 years ago. Some of my best friends live in the New Orleans area. My work took me back to Louisiana time and time again.
I love it down there. In fact, after Uncle Sam and I separated due to, shall we say, artistic differences as much as anything, I actually thought about moving to the Covington area. Covington’s a neat place. And the notion of living in Walker Percy’s hometown kind of appealed to me, all hack writers being romantics and narcissists. I’m glad I didn’t do it for any of a number of reasons. As I type this, St. Tammany Parish has no electricity. That is a good reason not to live in Covington, although it was not one that occurred to me at the time.
Hurricane Ida went barreling into Louisiana last Sunday exactly 16 years from the date of Hurricane Katrina. I watched the Weather Channel and CNN pretty much all day and most of the night while trying to check on my friends. I turned on the TV the next morning almost dreading what I might see.
Lo and behold, the new flood protection system worked. The levees held. Thank God and the Army Corps of Engineers. There were no major breaches. There was no massive flooding. I’ll tell you another difference. They were prepared for this one. Or as prepared as they could have been.
I’m not suggesting that things are good. They’re not. In fact, they’re terrible. But the city, the state and the Feds seem to be on the same page. This is an improvement from 16 years ago and very unusual for the “Grete Stete.” They had a plan this time. But as noted sociologist Mike Tyson once said, “Everybody has a plan until they get hit.” New Orleans got hit. We’ll see.
And here’s something else to think about. The new levees may have stood up to a Cat 4 hurricane. And that certainly gives the authorities more to work with than they had in the aftermath of Katrina. But there will certainly be numerous medical emergencies in the hours and days to come, especially once the communication grid is revived. And guess what? The hospitals in the New Orleans area, which are currently running on generators, are full of covid patients, 90 percent of whom, like similarly situated patients in Arkansas and elsewhere, did it to themselves.
The medical needs detritus that may be predictably caused by Ida in the near term will put even more strain on a system that is already maxed out on a statewide basis for no good reason. The main lesson of Katrina was that the old levee system was inadequate. The lesson of Ida might just turn out to be: “Whatever you do, don’t have a hurricane during a pandemic.”
Sixteen years ago I wrote about sitting in a pew at Holy Souls and contemplating the unthinkable: “That New Orleans, my New Orleans, would be obliterated.”
New Orleans once again escaped obliteration. It survived Katrina. It survived Ida. Now we will see if it can simultaneously survive an act of God, which was unavoidable, and the worst public health-care crisis in memory. Which pretty much was.
Levees can’t protect us from everything. We have to protect ourselves and those around us. This—dare I say biblical?—concept should not be confined to the present crisis in the City That Care Forgot.