Beached
Grand Isle, the Cajun Bahamas, only six square miles of land. Grand Isle, safe haven for Pirate Jean Lafitte. Grand Isle, the last populated Louisiana barrier island, first inhabited in the 1700’s. Grand Isle, home to 1,600 permanent residents. Grand Isle, at the edge of America’s largest and most productive estuary system.
Although Louisiana’s beaches don’t compare with the white sands of Florida, Grand Isle offers the comfort of family. It’s a community that has maintained its identity and integrity; that stubbornly refuses to succumb to adversity or commercialization. I hadn’t visited Grand Isle for nearly 45 years - until this year. This is my second visit in two weeks. I should be walking on the beach, playing in the surf. . .
But, this year is different. The beaches are closed. A stench fills the air. Commercial and charter fishing has been shut down. The community is besieged by media, transient workers, military, government and industry forces. The absence of children is noticeable. 2010 will not be remembered for its celebrations, fishing rodeos, its hurricanes, or the economic recovery that seemed so close. This is the year of the Deepwater Horizon BP oil catastrophe.
There won’t be family gatherings or picnics on the beach this Memorial Day. There won’t be shrimp or crab boils. Will it be any better for the 4th of July? Labor Day?
Hurricane season, starting June 1, will demand more than the usual wariness. This year, plumes of oil, mixed with chemical dispersant, pose a toxic threat. Even a minor disturbance in the Gulf . . . there’s no way to prepare this year.
But, here I am in my "official capacity" as a Business Continuity Consultant – with two listening ears and a shoulder to cry on, a smidgeon of common sense and a tad of technical assistance to offer. Somehow, it doesn’t seem like it’s going to be enough.
Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It’s not.
- Dr. Seuss
