Americans are a microwave society. We want what we want when we want it! (And we want it now.) We consume and move on. The 24-hour news cycle has been reduced to the 140 characters of a Tweet. In a blink, we are saddened, outraged, worried, happy — and then it’s over. We’re like the dog Dug in UP! — someone yells “squirrel” and we’re distracted.
Right now, there are two zones in Mississippi: Inside and outside the tornado tracks. If you’re outside of it, life is starting return to normal. The limbs have been cleaned up. The power is back on. We’re talking about Cong. Thompson’s latest remarks. The Cochran/McDaniel race is back on our radar. We might even be mad about Benghazi. Sure, we’ll get a little nervous when the tornado sirens fire today at noon. But for the most part, we’ve exhaled and moved on. But if you’re inside one of the tracks, your life has been brutally changed forever. Your house is damaged or destroyed. You may have been injured or lost loved ones. You might not even have a toothbrush. It’s hard to know where to turn when there aren’t even street signs. Your life has been literarily scattered into the wind.
Katrina was a shared disaster. It affected nearly the whole state in some form or fashion. This disaster is more localized. I write this because it’s something we need to remember. It’s easy to move on and forget those inside the tornado track. But our friends and family are still hurting. They need us.
Just because the sky is blue doesn’t mean that the storm still isn’t blowing.
Amen.
Yep.