Among the many many faces from the South that have filled our television screens in recent days was that of a young woman, sitting amid the rubble that used to be her home. She was lamenting to a reporter how, before evacuating, all she had thought about was saving her television set and DVD player. But now, amid the destruction, all she really missed were old photographs.
Humans are nothing if not consistent. When disaster strikes, whether it be a terrorist attack, earthquake or tsunami, we prioritize our lives in ways that suddenly seem so obvious. And we realize the many things we used to prioritize were little more than inconsequential time-wasters.
And then, inevitably, we forget those lessons after life again settles into a normal beat.
The woman amid the rubble was more fortunate than many. For others, photographs mean little. They miss family members or close friends lost in the floods. Others caught in even more dire conditions in the days following the storm would have given all they had for clean water or a rescue helicopter.
Yes, humans are nothing if not consistent. Americans haven't had to cope with a lot of disasters of this magnitude. But the few times they have, the script has been familiar.
Some people are comparing the devastation of New Orleans to the earthquake that destroyed San Francisco in 1906. True, there are some striking similarities, some of which may be startling to people who think modern Americans are setting new standards for bad behavior.
I retrieved a photograph from a Utah State University Web site, dated 1906. Its title is "Looters at work," and it shows a long line of people dressed in the suits and derbies of the day, carrying things one presumes do not belong to them.
Looting became so prevalent back then that, as the New York Times reported, San Francisco authorities sought help from Chicago police who were familiar with the faces of criminals who may have hopped trains to the devastated areas just to steal. San Francisco's wealthiest homes were popular targets.
In addition, there were reports of people setting up bogus charities so they could make off with the donations of well-meaning people, and newspapers lamented how people could be so cruel amid suffering.
We are consistent, as well, in the way we put status over safety. A colleague wondered aloud this week why people would rebuild a city that is below sea level. I imagine a lot of it has to do with a sense of pride, and of loyalty to the history of a great city. That's understandable, even if it only invites further disasters. But I wonder why so many Utahns insist on building showcase mansions precariously high on hillsides, as if to tempt the inevitable earthquake or wildfire.
When disaster strikes, won't the status of a great view seem like a silly priority? And won't the reluctance of local governments to limit that kind of development seem shortsighted?
There are, of course, positive consistencies among humans, as well. The overwhelming majority are generous and eager to help. Americans are separated by many regional differences, but we tend to come together as one family when a genuine need is at hand.
But then we tend to re-establish the silly priorities once things settle down — oblivious to the many little tragedies that are hidden in corners all around us each day.
The Superdome became an interesting symbol of all this. It was built as a monument to entertainment and was the home to six Super Bowls — larger-than-life extravaganzas that have become a sort of annual national holiday. Suddenly this week it became a relief shelter for thousands. Then it became a disaster area of its own, and its refugees were being moved to Houston's Astrodome, a place once called the eighth wonder of the world. Even a football stadium can be re-prioritized when games seem insignificant.
Too many of us, lulled by the soft comfort of a man-made world we think is permanent, fail to spend a lot of time thinking about the things that really matter.
We are consistent that way, too. Perhaps the shock of a horrible disaster, the realization that we are not immune here, and the spirit that comes from donating toward relief efforts will help us all be a little more consistent about valuing the things that truly matter.
Jay Evensen is editor of the Deseret Morning News editorial page. E-mail: even@desnews.com