Katrina disaster exacerbated by governmental provincialism

Ten years ago tonight, the National Weather Service issued a dire warning: a major hurricane was bearing down on New Orleans and "devastating damage" was expected. Hurricane Katrina ended up being the deadliest hurricane to hit the United States in more than 75 years and became the costliest hurricane in history, in terms of monetary damage. The effects — both physical and social — of the storm are still being felt today. 

But as deadly as the storm was, many deaths and much suffering occurred in the days after landfall as a near-total breakdown of public safety happened because officials, in various cases, either deferred making decisions about who was in charge or took charge without considering they were the best ones to take such actions.

Summary: When Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans a decade ago, a significant breakdown in intergovernmental cooperation contributed to a humanitarian disaster. The most-vulnerable part of New Orleans’ population suffered a failure of the most-basic social services or even death because they relied on an unprepared local government to preserve their well-being. A simple pre-existing arrangement to defer traditional municipal responsibilities to those best suited to implement them might have mitigated the City of New Orleans’ 2005 failures and may be key to preventing their recurrence in a similar disaster.

My Florida adventure

Holmes Beach, my home for the past week.

As soon as we exited the plane, I knew we were in trouble.

I am typing this blog entry both pool side and beach side, so I guess I don't have much to complain about. But from the moment I got onto the jetway and felt toy the hot blanket of moist air seeping through the seals, I could tell we'd be fighting the humidity -- as bad, or worse, than what I experienced during my last trip to the tropics (Darwin, Australia). And we did, the whole week.

We've spent the last week visiting Florida, mostly in an around the home of my grandparents in the Tampa Bay area. But we also spent some time in the Miami area, St. Petersburgh and Legoland in Central Florida.

We arrived at Fort Lauderdale airport shortly after 6 a.m. and it was already hot, as described above. After an adventure in and around the airport, trying to figure out how to get to our rental car, we finally got on the road. The first stop was Miami Beach, where we watched people watching what Miami Beach is famous for:



We then had breakfast at a beachside café, where we were given complimentary mimosas post-meal. The alcohol did not help our exhausted state after a red eye seated next to a baby. I did hope that we'd run into the crew of Burn Notice while in Miami, but no luck.

While I'm in Miami, wondering if it would be practical to have a mojito with Sam Axe aka Chuck Finley aka Bruce Campbell. #BurnNotice

— John C. Baker (@jcb10) August 7, 2012

Next, after a detour into Hollywood, Fla., for a car sick member of our crew, we got somewhat lost -- to our chagrin in these days of GPS and smart phones. Instead of cutting west onto Alligator Alley, somehow we ended going north, curbing along the north shore of Lake Okeechobee along rural roads. Moreover, Google Maps on my iPhone directed me to take an exit off the Florida Turnpike that did not have a cash toll plaza -- only a Sunpass (similar to Fastrack in the SF Bay Area) lane. Of course, we did not figure that out until already on the exit. So we are expecting a large fine in the mail when we get home.

Upon our arrival, Ian went straight into the pool. A pattern that was repeated later that evening and again and again and again over the next eight days.

My grandfather, Ian, myself and Charlotte during one of our many pool trips.

Most of our week was spent at my grandparents' condo on the shore of the Gulf of Mexico in Holmes Beach. What a condo! Great view of the Gulf out the back window, pool in the back and sufficient air conditioning!



(Update, Nov. 16, 2013: OK, I admit this post won't be updated. Suffice it to say, a fine time was had by all.)

Lining up for San Diego Comic-Con

This week I will be attending my 17th San Diego Comic-Con (or just "Comic-Con" as the world is becoming to know it). I first went in 1992 and have both embraced and lamented the changes made as Hollywood took control.

(For the record, I've blogged about Comic-Con before: here, here and here. Plus, I'm still trying to find the owner of the camera I found last year.)

Hollywood has (much to the traditionalists' dismay) invigorated Comic-Con, but also made it much too crowded. Last year, I waited in the Hall H line for literally (and I am using "literally" in the correct, literal sense here) four hours at one point. My wait was in part due to camping-out fans going into the hall early for panels hours later than the panel currently happening(such as those depicted below, waiting for a "Lost" panel in 2009). This has been getting worse each year, for several years.


Comic-Con has got to cut down the waiting in line. It's unhealthy for the sun-averse (such as myself) and prevents me from enjoying as much of the show as I'd want.

So two things. One: Clear out the rooms between panels. (Hypothetical) Why is my Doctor Who panel full of Twilight fans waiting for good seats for their panel six hours from now (or vice-versa)? We could fit 4,000 more Doctor Who fans in here.

Second: How about online reservations for panels? Why should I have to wait in a six-hour line for Hall H and have no guarantee of even getting in? I could be going to the Roy Thomas panel in the meantime. Put aside a certain number of seats in each Hall/Ballroom/Conference room (say half) and let people make reservations for them online. Let registered badgeholders reserve one panel per badge per day. Let them print out a bar-coded ticket for the panel which means I just have to get into the short pass-holder line. Once that line clears, let in others until the room fills. Technology can do that these days.

Crowds (such as those in the picture above) will continue to overwhelm Comic-Con, there's not much that can be done about that without severely restricting ticket sales. But certain measures (such as having reservations for panels) can make the experience of wading through the crowds more enjoyable.

The fog of war(planes)

Blue Angels: "We came, we saw, we flew off."

On Sunday I decided to brave the Embarcadero crowds and take one of the young'uns downtown to see the Blue Angels.

The Blue Angels, the US Navy's premier aerial acrobatics team have been a fixture of San Francisco's Fleet Week for decades. The have brought cheers and also jeers, mainly due to noise complaints, but also their symbolism in an area where the military can be unpopular.

The Snowbirds complete
a loop.

We exited BART at Embarcadero Station and walked about a mile-and-a-half up to Pier 37, where we set up a picnic about two hours prior to the scheduled start of the Blue Angels' demonstration. Luckily, there were a few opening acts.

First up were our neighbors from our north, the Snowbirds (left), representing Canada's Armed Forces. While their jets weren't quite as fast or powerful as the Blue Angels' F-18s, the Snowbirds made up for it by using their greater numbers (nine CT-114 jets). The numbers enabled the Snowbirds to pull off some pretty complicated tricks -- such as drawing a heart in the sky with smoke, then piercing it -- back-to-back-to-back as smaller groups broke off and performed along various parts of the waterfront.

Canada's Snowbirds fly in tight formation during their Oct. 9, 2011 show in San Francisco.

F-15 on afterburner.

Next up were a couple single-plane demonstrations, a Marine Corps F/A-18 and a US Air Force F-15, which delighted the crowd with very-low (and very loud), high-subsonic passes on afterburner (right). It also did a fairly good cobra maneuver and generously showed its high-thrust abilities with quick climbs from the deck to about 15,000 feet and back down again.

Another highlight was seeing a United Airlines 747 pass low and do some pretty tricky tight turns that you don't want done on your next flight to Chicago, but are pretty impressive at an air show. The big, lumbering jumbo jet was a surprisingly exciting part of the show.

(Click on the pictures to "embiggen." The photos are perfectly cromulent.)

A United Airlines 747-400 does some impressive low passes over the San Francisco waterfront.

My son and I had enjoyed the show, thus far, and its a good thing we did, too. When the Blue Angel's C-130 support craft, "Fat Albert," (below) appeared and did a few tricks, the crowd was led to believe the main show was about to start and got excited. As "Albert" left, the F-18s came into sight and began circling.

And circling.

And circling.

The Blue Angels' C-130 support plane, "Fat Albert," does low-level turns for the fans.

Turns out some fog had rolled in, and the Blue Angels didn't feel that conditions were safe to fly 18 inches apart 20 feet above the water. They eventually had to cancel the demonstration. Alas, while the crowd was disappointed, I think a majority understood. Certainly, we had been amused in the meantime.

The fog, seen here over Alcatraz, which caused the Blue Angels to cancel  their Sunday performance.

A day at the beach

Ian at Pacifica State Beach, April 20, 2009.

There was record-breaking heat in the San Francisco Bay Area on Monday, prompting a heat advisory, in fact. So Ian and I made lemonade from lemons, metaphorically speaking, and went to the beach.

Ian's school is literally about two blocks from the beach,as I've outlined before. So after grabbing him, we headed down to the shore. As an indicator of the heat (86F/30C, but it felt hotter), we had to circle the lot three times to get a parking spot.

The boy wanted to take off his shoes and run on the beach as soon as we got on the sand, only to tearfully beg me to pick him up as soon as he realized the sand was blazing. But once we got to the tide line, Ian had a blast. He ran in and out of the small waves (the tide was receding) and seemed to get a great thrill from throwing small rocks out to sea.

We were covered in fine, black sand afterward but had a good time over about half an hour. But I'm already done with summer and it's still only early spring. Bring on the April showers!

New year, old cliches

Low on gas Thursday, I decided to fill up.

And, since the car was filthy, I figured it would be a good time to wash the car while I was at the gas station.

So, of course, it rans today -- probably for the last time in a while. And no sooner does it rain than it stops -- leaving me with a wet car when the wind picks up.

So all the kicked up dirt sticks to my wet car (above). Now it's filthy again.

A quickie in Canberra

Parliament House in Canberra.

CANBERRA — As I start this blog, from the gallery of the Australian House of Representatives (Parliament is not is session at the moment), I’m stricken by a number of things. My previously attested dislike of the Westminster System, for example.

But mostly, I’m stricken by the Australian parliament house’s lack of flair. Compared to the Capitol in Washington, or even Parliament Hill in Ottawa, Canberra in general and Parliament House in particular, seems a simplistic contrast to its fellow capitals. Aside from a few pictures of old PMs (I couldn’t find Harold Holt’s — it seems to have disappeared) and notable MPs, there are only a few static displays in the building commemorating Australia’s history. Granted, the Parliament House was only occupied within the past 20 years, so it’s not very surprising. (One thing that is surprising is that former Midnight Oil lead singer Peter Garrett, right, is Australia's culture minister! My high school friend Eric Russell could do a decent Peter Garrett impression.)

Washington and Ottawa (the other national capitals I’ve been to) owe a lot of their grandeur to past ages. The American Capitol brings back visions of Greco-Roman style, the Canadian Parliament reminds visitors of old London-town. Canberra — and the Parliament House in particular — seems to have started out new, with architecture that doesn’t remind one of anywhere else and perhaps suffers for it. (Right, the Australian House chamber.)

There is a place of genuine emotion in Canberra, the Australian War Memorial. I’ve previously noted the predominance of small war memorials in several towns, but the national memorial here in Canberra is a huge step above them. Not only is it an effective memorial, with the requisite marble, poppies and names of the honored dead, but it contains a great museum as well.

Australia lost a higher proportion of its fighting men to World War I than any other nation, even France. It’s a common finding down here that the Australian identity was forged on the shores of Gallipoli and in the trenches of France, and the Australian War Memorial reflects the impact that the “Great War” had on the nation’s psyche.

Besides the requisite uniforms, letters, planes and guns common in all such museums, this museum added an effective extra: the diorama. Huge models of the Somme, Paschendale, Gallipoli and other major battles give a sense of the scale and drama that governed the conflict and adequately reflect the difficulties the “Diggers” faced. (Australia's "Tomb of the Unknown," left.)

I had hoped to do more than the two sites in Canberra, but I had to get back to the airport for my 5 p.m. flight. So I rushed to catch my bus to the airport (or rather near the airport, as Canberra’s Action Bus stops in a business park about a five-minute walk away). I got to the Virgin Blue counter and tried to check in, but couldn’t — my flight was canceled due to flow-control restrictions in Sydney.

Virgin booked my on the next flight, two hours later, so just a little problem there. I would’ve bused back to the city on my day-tripper pass, but the last public bus back to the airport area is at 4:35 p.m. for some reason! Oh well, Richard Branson’s crew gave me a $6 voucher to use in the airport café (not quite enough to buy a meal of course, but it was $6 more than any other airline would’ve given me) and at least there’s free wireless Internet here (hence my post …).

Now, I just need to wait and hope for good weather on Australia's east coast …

Update: 6:47 p.m. (Canberra time). My flight has just been pushed back another 15 minutes and Canberra airport is not a place to get stuck. One café with actual food (outside security) and not much to do at all. It's a good thing I don't have anything planned for tonight -- I had originally considered trying a get seats to a show tonight.
Looking back toward Parliament through the pillars of the Australian War Memorial.

One-man wrecking crew

Not only is he a rockin' one-man band, but he's a one-man band with a freakin' DIDGERIDOO!

PERTH, W.A. -- I've been pleasantly free of jet lag this trip but after four days of reduced sleep, I finally needed a nap this afternoon. I had blogged, gotten lunch and watched the Sex and the City movie (Spoiler: Carrie was much too mad over Miranda's statement to Big. There was much more on Big's mind than what Miranda said), so it was no surprise I fell asleep in the late afternoon.

I awoke shortly before 7 p.m. and showered, then headed out the door about 8:30 p.m. Because of the late hour, I knew I wanted to go somewhere close so I chose Fenian's Irish Pub -- kitty corner to my hotel and the site of my Melbourne Cup bet earlier in the day.

I ordered a Guinness and briefly wondered why the barkeep only filled it two-thirds of the way and kept it underneath the bar.
After the head settled a bit, the bartender picked the glass back up, then filled it up while shaping a clover pattern in the head. Clever!

The entertainment for the evening was James Wilson, who gave a really good show for a one-man band. Wilson played an assortment of songs from The Church, U2 and Phil Collins, multi-tasking all the way. Wilson would make a good dispatcher: while singing, he played guitar and trigged the drums with his feet! I, who can hardly talk and type at the same time, was quite impressed. Samples of Wilson's music are online at his MySpace page.

While walking about at one point, I was surprised to hear the loud sound of running water behind me. I turned around and a variety of factors -- the hill I was on, the perfect east-west alignment of the street and the way it was lit -- let me see an amazing sight: a wall of rain rushing down the hill toward me. I was actually able to see and hear the rain coming at me in time to get under an awning and avoid it. I was also able to see the end of the storm coming up a couple minutes later and left my shelter when the rain did.

I'm back at the hotel now, watching Monday night's Late Show with David Letterman, which is broadcast with a delay here in Perth. Ricky Gervais' top-ten list of stupid things Americans say to British citizens was hilarious. Feels just like home.

It's all over but the equinox

It's still blazing hot, the days are still much longer than the nights and Fall technically doesn't start until Sept. 22, but summer's over for me.

Technically in the Bay Area (at least the north Peninsula), you can tell it's the end of summer when the weather actually begins to get warm. But for me, the traditional end of summer is the start of the high school football season. Last night, I covered my first game of the season for the San Mateo Times.

It was actually a decent kickoff for the gridiron season. Terra Nova scored a touchdown in the last 65 seconds to beat visiting Burlingame, 15-10. You can read my story online. (As an aside, whenever I have a game at Terra Nova, I have a ritual of eating my pre-game meal at the world's most awesome Taco Bell, literally built on stilts above the beach in Pacifica, near Ian's school).



The only disappointing thing was the new field at Terra Nova. There was a beautiful Field Turf carpet, but I think Terra Nova was one of the few fields around here that didn't need one. Unlike the ratty fields at, say, our local high school (which shall remain nameless), Terra Nova's had a well-drained, lush field of green grass -- which is what the game should be played on.

Sometimes I get a tad depressed that I'm again doing the same primary job (security) that I had 13 years ago, despite getting a pair of bachelor's degrees. I don't, however, have a problem writing about high school football year after year after year. Covering football is a tradition, one I've had every fall since 1992 (except 1996, 1998 and 1999 and not counting spectator attendances in 1987-1991 and 1995). The weird thing? I don't even really like football all that much -- at least above the high school level. But covering football takes me back to my (relatively) youthful days, when I thought I was either going to be the world's most dashing sports writer or foreign correspondent.

Or maybe walking the sidelines with high schoolers every Friday night just helps me forget that I'll be 40 in three years.

So that's why I pay taxes ...

I picked Ian up from school at 1 p.m. today, wary of the heat -- which probably hit the mid-90s F here in South San Francisco and 100 elsewhere in the Bay Area. I say "wary" because I promised Ian a trip to the park if I got a good report from his teacher today (which I did).

Driving back from Pacifica, I asked Ian if he wanted to go to the "inside park" (the well air-conditioned indoor playground at the nearby Tanforan Shopping Center) or another park. Ian insisted multiple times on Orange Park -- the largest local park. Orange Park was no doubt the choice due to the fact an ice cream truck circles the playground every half hour.

With sunstroke worries on the mind, we drove to the park and got out. As the oppressive heat hit me, I prepared to tell Ian (the only kid at the playground) that we would only stay for 10 minutes. No sooner do I open my mouth, however, do I notice that the sprinklers are on at the adjacent athletic field! Well, as you can guess, we both made a beeline for the grass and were soaked (fully clothed) within seconds. We ended up staying for about 20 minutes, laughing and sliding on the grass, before we went to the blessedly air conditioned library a few blocks away. (It was so hot that we were almost dry when we got there.) Sadly, for once, I didn't have a camera with me.

Now, normally I'd be the crotchedy old man and complain to the city that one shouldn't water the lawn at the hottest time of the hottest day we've had in a while, especially in a time of drought (evaporation and all). But why do my tax monies go to parks? For recreational purposes, and we sure did "recreate" today. Tax dollars well spent.

Darn kid needed a shower, anyway.