A word about the president

Soon volunteer groups commenced work, and Tina and I began to pack up. We stopped for the presidential helicopters headed for the “ranch”, to pick up Bush and take him golfing in Tucson. We all lined up in the road, smiling and looking up and waving peace signs. A few minutes later, they flew over again, loaded up with the administration. We stood in line again, except for Yasser, who couldn’t resist running along the road, his Palestinian flag cape flapping and his middle finger held high.

Let’s just take a moment to reflect: Louisiana, Alabama, and Mississippi were being slammed by a category five storm, with much loss of life anticipated. A couple hundred people were camped in ditches next to war memorials, begging for recognition of their pain.

The president was going golfing in AZ, and then on to San Diego to stay at Hotel del Coronado. Unlike, say, the Teri Schiavo craziness, which saw him zooming back from Crawford and signing “emergency” legislation in his pajamas, he was flying as far away from death and reminders of death as he could. And while the papers would cover his irrelevant speeches on Medicare or whatever, Camp Casey was mobilizing to address grief and pain once again.

I remember Buddy saying, when he first told us the news on Katrina, “People are going to die.” Maybe lawyers have better forecasting skills than fake cowboys? Is that why Bush didn’t seem to get it?