Apocolypse

Four years ago Americans of my generation experienced an apocolypse. We were glued to our televisions watching planes hit the twin towers over and over, followed by endless news analysis, speculation, and from our government, promise of retribution. I would awake to NPR with newscasters telling me my life would never be the same. Collective shock became collective anger and defiance. We exuded a loud silence by displaying American flags on cars, windows, shirts, pins...
And now, four years later, in the aftermath of a natural disaster, Americans are witnessing another apocolypse. At first I was surprised that so many more lives of those I know and care about were directly affected than after 9/11. But then I realized the hit was much larger-- thousands to millions of people, miles, acres.
The difference as I feel it is there is no silence. The loud winds and rains of the hurricane ripped through, and millions of voices followed: offers of money, food, shelter...schools for displaced, jobs for the newly unemployed. This time the voice of retribution is not from the government to the initiator, but from the people to the government. And over it all is the beautiful music of the Gulf states. I've been listening to WERS and WUMB. Louis Armstrong, Nina Simone, Charlie Haden, The Dirty Dozen Brass Band, Donald Byrd, Wynton Marsalis all sing out reminding us of New Orleans and the South. They sing of hope among the hopeless. At the end of they day they pour a drink and know there will be a tomorrow.