Katrina, Camille, Al, & Dad

Since we invaded Iraq, I have had this feeling that my life has gone into reruns. It feels like the things that happened 30 to 40 years ago are repeating themselves. In particular, Iraq has felt and continues to feel like Vietnam; the only difference I see is that we can mark with date certain when we got involved in Iraq (March 19, 2003) while we sort of slid into Vietnam piecemeal.

Now comes Katrina, hitting the same areas that Camille hit 36 years ago next week, and my sense of deja vu deepens.

God how I remember Camille. The rains starting out like any other rain storm and then building in intensity, and the wind coming in and building, and the whole thing just continuing to build and build in gradually increasing ferocity until a young man of twenty from Indiana thinks that it can't get any worse. But it does.

And the aftermath of such a storm is so incredible. Nothing is unaffected. You feel very lucky if any landmarks survive at all. Everywhere is destruction. Roads disappear. They're not just cut here and there; they completely disappear under tons of sand and debris. Trash is everywhere, only it wasn't trash before the storm, but the storm has left everything unrecognizable. And there are the dead either caught unawares by winds and waves they could not imagine or didn't expect or people foolish enough to think they can "ride it out" only to learn, too late, that they can't ride this one out.

It will be years restoring the Gulf Coast as it was years restoring it from Camille. Camille and Katrina: two ill-tempered ladies of the Gulf.

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We buried Al Fletcher at Arlington National Cemetery last Thursday, August 25th. Fifty family and friends turned out to see his earthly remains into their final resting place. The military handled things with appropriate pomp and dignity. Al had a procession through Arlington to the grave site, an honor guard to take him to the plot and fold the flag and give it to his family, a 21-gun salute, and a buglar playing Taps one last time.

Then we were off to a reception where we could all meet one another, many of us meeting for the first time. Al's family from South Carolina and the DC area mingled with people from Indianapolis, Rochester New York, Milwaukee, Columbus Ohio, and other points on the map. We shared stories and remembrances of Al. We shared food and fellowship. We gathered one final time to honor Al's life and love.

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Got some good news. My father is feeling much better. When he fell a couple of months ago, he apparently did some damage to his spine. Yesterday morning, he had a procedure to alleviate that pain, and as of last night it worked so well that he was talking on the phone (and making sense) and aware of the world around him.

Obviously, he was in a lot more pain than he would tell us. I suspect that his brain is sufficiently affected by his cancer that he couldn't adequately tell us about the pain. In the moment, he would say that his back was hurting, that is in the moment when he was being moved, and his back was hurting. Other than that, though, he wouldn't be able to tell that his back was hurting. I suspect he just couldn't make the connection.

So that's the news for now. He sounds like he could last for a few weeks or months yet. Or maybe this is the last flaring of the real man before the disease claims him finally. Whatever will be, will be.