I'm supposed to be writing my editorial this morning but I can't shut off the television.  If I can't shut off the tele-vision, how can I think?
Hurricane Katrina is hitting New Orleans and I'm riveted to the news of it.  As the Category 5 hurricane barrels ashore, it whips roof shingles and gutters past reporters who finally decide to duck for shelter.  Category 5 is the highest.
Swirling colors on the weather map display the storm as it demolishes a vast Gulf area with its 130 to 150 mph winds.  The red, orange, yellow, green, and blue colors on the map are in stark contrast to the gray hues of the storm in the streets.
The pumping system under the City of New Orleans is failing on both sides of the Mississippi River.  New Orleans has the world's most elaborate pumping facilities but they're old.  It's an old city.  Most of it is 6 feet below sea level, some parts of it are 20 feet below sea level.
The reporters talk from their various perches and podiums giving facts that inform and fuel our interest.
When Allan and I visited the place some years ago, we were intrigued by a predicament not common to Minnesota - floating caskets.  Many deceased in the bayous of Louisiana are cremated or buried above ground in mausoleums.  The city is in sort of a bathtub protected by dykes. 
We've dined in the French Quarter, driven across Lake Pontchartrain, and strolled boulevards lined with magnificent southern trees.
Last night I watched people head to the Louisiana Superdome and stand in wide and long lines, clutching pillows and plastic bags stuffed with articles of clothing.  City officials made the Superdome available as a refuge for residents who were unable to evacuate the city.  Close to 10,000 people took up the offer.
But now Katrina is ripping holes in the roof of the Superdome and it's leaking.  The holes are over six feet long and can't be repaired because the weather outside isn't fit for man or beast.  People move from one section of the Superdome to another, and there are plenty of seats for everybody inside to play musical chairs.  Total seating capacity is 70,000.
Some people in the city are trapped in collapsed apartments.  Some people are making desperate calls to 911 but it's not possible for rescue crews to be out on the streets.  Trees are breaking like toys.  The hurricane is passing over the poorest areas of New Orleans. 
The Red Cross has been mobilized.  It's being billed as the largest mobiliz-ation of resources for a single natural disaster in the history of the Red Cross.  They're looking to produce half a million meals per day.  Many elements will hinder their efforts.
The National Guard is being called out in Alabama.  A state of emergency is declared in Alabama.  Contractor trailers are overturned in the worst flooding since Hurricane Ivan last year.
It's an incredible scene on Bourbon Street back in New Orleans.  Shutters slam and explode against buildings.  The French Quarter is flying apart.  The water supply is contaminated.  The Hyatt Regency Hotel just had 100 windows ripped out.  The battering continues.  Front facades are falling away.  Some of the buildings have been in existence for 200 years.
Now the eye of the storm is over the State of Mississippi.  When trees start snapping, reporters and their crews take cover.  The storm is so large that its winds are 125 mph even 100 miles from the eye.  There is considerable damage all through-out the southeast. 
Water is standing 10 feet high in downtown New Orleans.  Some of the levies are breached.  The Gulf Coast needs investment from the federal gov-ernment but right now they concentrate on saving lives.  People sit on the rooftops to escape flooding waters.  There are whitecaps in the streets of New Orleans.
Over 200,000 homes in Alabama are without power.  A bridge has been knocked out. 
Blinding rain is crushing New Orleans.  The City of New Orleans is under a curfew.  Palm branches fly and float all over the place.  All traffic signals are inoperative.  Cell phones don't work.
It's too dangerous for emergency response crews to assist.  There are four-foot waves on Lake Pontchartrain.  People climb into their attics to escape the rising waters.
It's downgraded to a Category 3 hurricane and moving north, inland, and New Orleans is slowly being left behind.  There are over two dozen reports of tornadoes now that the hurricane has moved inland.  Copious amounts of rain are falling in the Florida panhandle accompanied by 80 mph winds.  Mobile, Alabama, is experiencing 70 mph winds.
Winds die down on Bourbon Street.  Worst of the storm is passing but it's still too dangerous to be out and about.  Wind gusts and downed power lines are factors.  Humanity can only watch and try to weather the storm.
Raging.  Surging.  Fierce.  Major.  Severe.  Damaging.  Dangerous.  Devastating.  Deadly.  Mass Destruction.  Do we dare call it the wrath of God?  Or is it the work of the Enemy?  It is most certainly not the stuff of peace be with you and kumbaya my Lord, not according to what I'm seeing and hearing on my television this morning.
                                                                            ~Sue