Some of life’s most troublesome happenings are chalked up to fate, serendipity, paying the piper, God’s punishment, or if you’re of a more complacent nature - just the law of averages. I’m thinking at the moment of the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, and the number of humans and wild life it has and will continue to devastate.

 New Orleans and environs have had their share of tragedy. I lived there for eleven years and had good friends in the Galliano and Grand Isle area. My husband, on occasion, escaped his medical responsibilities in New Orleans by spending a day on a shrimp boat with a Cajun patient, arriving home with an ice chest of fresh shrimp and blue crabs straight from the waters of the Gulf - fruits of the sea unsurpassed in taste and freshness. I now wonder how the warm and friendly residents of that area, as well as those in other Gulf towns depending on the marvelous waters for their livlihood, will cope during this lingering crisis.

The extent of this tragedy can only be fully realized by observing the miles and miles of colorful net-draped shrimp boats lined up along the banks of bayous; vessels of every size, color and monetary value. At daybreak, families of pelicans languidly perch on pilings like finials to wish a bon voyage to the skippers, and at end of day enthusiastically welcome them home knowing that treats of fish will be thrown to them like Mardi Gras beads from a carnival float. Their satiated bodies will then succumb to the night as another gorgeous sunset tints the flat, marshy land with warmth. Along with seagulls, ibis and herons they put their faith in the promise of another sunrise and continued nourishment from the lands and waterways that make up their habitat. Is even their faith now at stake?

This is not just another news story any more than the tragedy of Katrina, and this brings me to my subject of ironies. The morning the levees broke in New Orleans, I had just finished writing a novel, Man on the Balcony, with much of the setting in The Crescent City. I remember thinking how quickly that event dated my story, since New Orleans would never be the same. My third novel, Spanish Moss, released in September, takes place in The Garden District and the story line contains considerable prose about the Bayou Country and its Cajun inhabitants; the beauty and uniqueness seen through the eyes of an artist. Ironic timing; probably - yet insignificant compared to the irony of a second tragedy to the coast line of Louisiana and now threatening, as well, the entire framework of the Gulf of Mexico, including our Florida beaches. The possibility that the destructive tentacles of this man-made monster could also threaten the Eastern shores boggles the imagination - and who can guess the fallout from another active hurricane season?

It seems to me we should be better prepared for the “what ifs” of life. A surgeon goes into the operating room prepared with knowledge of a second course of action should a procedure go wrong or he’s confronted with the unexpected. Shouldn’t our governments and industry be better prepared for ironic or unexpected possibilities when the stakes are so high for so many? Should those in charge be allowed to sink their heads in the sands of complacency, in a state of denial, or asleep at the wheel? Is this America, or a third world country that has to depend on outside resources for salvation? Granted, the oil spill was a rare occurrence, but it’s the rare occurences that shock us with their devastating sequelae.

Perhaps it’s time to return to the tried and true motto of the Boy Scouts of America: BE PREPARED.          ********