So Many Harvey Stories

There are so many different Harvey stories. There were the ones showing the cute little tropical depression in the gulf, along with vague promises that it would grow. And land.  And leave, and land again. There are the stories of rainfall records, from bad to what seemed like bragging rights for who got the most water. Ever. There are the folks who left and the folks who stayed, the mandatory evacuations and the idiots who never ordered any because, hey, Texas!

Somehow being bigger magically meant disasters could only be small. You know: Texas!

Cameras had a field day, starting with the obligatory let's-stand-out-in-the-wind-and-water-along-the-beach-and-prove-how-tough-reporters-are-in-the-face-of-Mother-Nature. Because, hey, egos. Because, hey, stupid and unoriginal.

Then photos switched to flooding, how deep the water was compared to cars, street signs, roofs. And how many reporters in waders could step out in a foot of water and pretend bravery. After that, out came the kayaks, the flat-bottomed boats, the huge boats with fans on the back. Then helicopter baskets full of the rescued, dump trucks hauling the hapless around, the overcrowding in shelters and a certain televangelist who refused to open up his massive facility until shamed into it. He even got air time to repeat his defense of how Christian he really was, because, hey, excuse.

Lest you think Mr. Osteen was the only show of selfishness in this saga, note the stories of price gouging. Gasoline in certain stations jumped to $8 a gallon because some folks leave their churches on Sunday and return to worship at the altar of supply and demand all week long. Similar reports filtered in on water and food prices while they could, until free supplies could finally be delivered despite closed highways.

The maps got full play, showing the red bands of heavy rain whirling off the core of Harvey, except that the ones which crossed the border to dump their deluges on Louisiana got no mention because, hey, not Texas.

The rich and famous got their time to shine in the headlines, promising a million dollars here, a half million there, another million and another million from their invulnerable and perfectly coifed photo shoots because they had to be part of the story too. They couldn't just give the funding because it was needed, but likely had their publicists in the background poking them forward for the reflected fame of the biggest story of the week. (Yes, my cynical imagination provides the image of little red tridents. How did you guess?)  Even Trump pledged his million, but with his track record, it either won't arrive or will be other people's money: keep your eye out, folks.

There are still stories to be told. What happens to all those made homeless and destitute next week, next month, once the cameras have turned away to the next big story? There will be a next story, and a next. We as a nation will sit with our eyes glued to our screens, marveling at all the unexpected, horrible things displayed there. Unexpected, because the biggest part of the Harvey and all the other shocking extreme weather stories is simply not being told. The Harveys will keep coming, along with the droughts, the fires, the floods, the mudlslides, rising sea levels, vanishing permafrost, disappearing glaciers, species extinctions... because, hey, climate change!