sorrow

Reading and watching the news about the hurricane in the south, I don't know what to think. I remember a severe hurricane that hit the eastern half of Pennsylvania, a rare occurrence, when I was eight or nine. Hurricane Doria uprooted several huge trees around my house--luckily, none of them hit the roof--and destroyed some homes. I had a great-aunt who lost her home. I still remember the horrible sound of the brutal wind as it screamed outside. So magnify the violence of that by one thousand, and that must have been what it was like in New Orleans. And the aftermath...I can't imagine what it must be like to lose everything, and not to know if your family and friends are alive or hurt. It's funny. I teach a history of jazz class, and I discuss New Orleans in detail, because it is the birthplace and spiritual home of jazz. And now New Orleans, one of the most unique, beautiful of old cities, is destroyed. I was there once, about fifteen years ago, in November. I remember it felt like a different country. I remember how friendly people were, and the slow pace. I remember how the sun sat low in the sky, radiating intense heat even at that time of year.