"A disaster! It's a disaster!"

I have relatives living in New Orleans and their lives were devastated by Hurricane Katrina.

My Uncle John escorted my Great Aunt Ann back down to her apartment near the French Quarter. One of her windows was broken, her awning had collapsed and her fridge needed to be cleaned out, as all the food had rotted. It took 2 days to clean the fridge and she still wasn't satisfied. She stomped through her house muttering "A disaster! It's a disaster."

Meanwhile, my cousin Neil, his wife Allison, and their 2 children, Neil Jr, and Jennifer were much less fortunate. The items they were able to salvage from their house were all from the attic and were not enough to even fill the bed of a pickup truck. Their house is ruined. Their second floor collapsed into their first floor. Their walls are covered with black mold. All of their belongings are waterlogged and unsalvage-able.

Neil Sr. sent pictures back with my Uncle John of the devastation. There were cars on top of fences, through roofs, and in swimming pools. There were houses in the middle of the streets they once lined. On the houses were the spray-painted marks of the search and rescue teams, noting the date, their initials and the number of living and dead they found. There were warnings spray-painted on some houses. There were invitations to loot on others. Some houses became billboards, advertising where to reach the former occupants; leaving word that pets had been found; thumbing their noses at the storm that had robbed them of their residence and their wordly possessions, but not their lives or their dignity.