Katrina's Aftermath.
The television at Betsy’s Pancake House is showing pictures from Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath, twenty years ago. It was twenty years ago today. It it weren’t on the TV, no one would be talking about it. They have to sell newspapers even if there’s nothing to report.
“Twenty years ago,” the fellow next to me says, “And still, not a damned thing’s changed.”
“Even the mayor is going to jail,” Mr. Henry observes.
“You’re right.” the first fellow says.
Ray Nagin is in federal prison as we speak. He was the mayor during Katrina. LaToya Cantrell is on her way. She is the mayor now. We the People get what we deserve.
Mr. Henry looks to be about 110. He is small, hunched over. He looks like he fell off a charm bracelet. He rides his bicycle to Betsy’s Pancake House most mornings. When he doesn’t, we all agree that he must be somewhere else. He sits next to me when we are in the same room. I read the Wall Street Journal. He reads the Times-Picayune. We are both informed in our own way.
There is no mention of Katrina in the Journal today (as yet). It is front page news on the T-P.
Today is the 20th anniversary of Katrina making landfall in New Orleans.
Mr. Henry and I don’t discuss the news in the papers today. There’s nothing to note.
“Let’s get out of here, Mr. Henry. There’s a whole city out there to explore.”
“I agree, Mr. King. Two wheels set one free.”
He left on his bicycle.
I went to the cemetery. We all have our ways of forgetting the past.
