Katrina, Ernesto, Twisters, Bush

Ever wonder why we name Hurricanes and not Tornados? Perhaps it has to do with time and space. With a name, we can make the hurricane real, present, track its every swirl, wind gust, measure its eye, send a jet screaming directly through its center. A tornado is quick, sudden, catches you by surprise, wicked, deadly. Before you can give it a name, the damage is done. Space and place destroyed.

The name "Katrina" will always be associated with death, levees, floods, Superdome, New Orleans, Nagin, Brownie, and, Bush. The media is in a "1 year" anniversary frenzy today, with pundits like Matt "bulldog" Lauer asking Brownie the hard questions about why FEMA failed so miserably. We mark time. In the 9th ward, time has simply stopped. Nothing moves there. Poor. Black. Forgotten. I heard a white woman call into the Washington Journal program this morning and state: "If I lived in New Orleans I would have walked right out of there knowing the storm was coming." Blame the victim. Funny how privilege works. Bitch probably never lived in a hurricane zone. How does one move/walk out of their home, their space, their place, their city? Where do they go? How do they mark time?

I lived in southern Minnesota for three years, always on the ready for the dreaded "tornado" siren that would mournfully wail from across town. Neighbors would gather on the sidewalk, nervously wondering if this was "the one" that was always/already "due" to strike our bleak, flat, unappealing, treeless landscape that we called “home”. Last week it struck. Quick. Deadly. Destructive. Anonymous. Much like a bomb I imagine. Minus the wind. Add the bodies. Some soldiers, unfortunately, have the nasty habit of writing greetings on the missiles/bunker busters/cluster bombs that are dropped by planes, helicopters, on civilian targets. Collateral damage "courtesy of the USA" as Toby Keith likes to sing. Radiate. Destroy. Poison. Obliterating space. Place. Time.

Pass the buck. Michael Brown blamed Bush's "talking points" for the catastrophic failure that is New Orleans. He "regrets" following orders. Talking points?

Today my mother is shuttering her house to prepare for Ernesto. Technicolor weather maps have predicted it will hit FL, either as a tropical storm or a Hurricane, by tomorrow. So it goes.