5 Reasons The National Media Shouldn't Cover The South Louisiana Flooding

5.    Unbearable gastronomical jealousy. I cannot even imagine the anxiety of people looking at South Louisiana from a far and seeing the dark black vats of jambalaya, the deep silver pots of bubbling gumbo, and even three inches of red meat smoking on the grill (because, hey, the power's out anyway). We've had to feed our friends, our family, our crazy neighbor down the street who thinks their cat is the reincarnation of a former president, and we'll keep doing it until the jeans just won't fit anymore. We'll pack it in little styrofoam containers with a roll and walk it down the street. We'll force you to make a to-go plate even though you swear you have enough already. When you live with what the Cajuns call joie de vivre, you find that at even it's ugliest, life itself is a joyful albeit short event. No one has time for poorly seasoned food. 

4.    We wouldn't really make it a big deal anyway. The news would certainly come in looking for the scruffy fisherman who went out of his way to pull people from the tops of houses, loaded them in, and then braved murky river water to deliver them to safety. They would find the woman who's been at Celtic Studios all day, lifting cases of water, escorting elderly off of the helicopters that are landing nearby, carefully keeping track of makeshift spreadsheets so that word can get out about who is there...and who's not, and still finds time to hold a hand of a teenager who's lost everything in the water. They're certainly here, but they won't talk to you. They're busy. They want to get back to work because this thing's not over yet. There's no time to tell you how much this has impacted them, because people are still missing. You won't be able to romanticize their story and turn it into a screenplay staring Tom Hanks. And they don't think they're heroes, so they don't even know why they're asking. In a world where we glamorize vanity and self-righteousness then package it and then paste it on every manner of print, we forget what the meaning of honor is. Honor is about quietly and dutifully doing what you can for no other reason other than its the right thing to do. I get it; you need ratings. The thing is, this might be a once-in-a-lifetime event for us, but it is an everyday manner of being for our community. 

3.    There are other important things going on. I can see how having to report on Olympic divers getting engaged, Adele performing at the Superbowl and being self-conscious about dancing, and Britney's workout routine takes precedence over actual human life being lost (because BritBrit looks GOOD, y'all!). And I know the American people absolutely need to know the stupid-thing-of-the day that Trump said as well as the sketchy-detail-of-the-day coming out about Clinton. You have a lot on your plate. I also managed to hear that Jodie has given up on the Olsen twins ever appearing on Fuller House. Say it isn't so! 

2.    We're nosy and interfering. When you come down here, you're going to get invited into homes that only have a sliver of floor for an air mattress to spare. You'll have to stand while you eat your dinner. Someone will try to take your hand while grace is being said. You'll get asked, "Who's your mama?" more times than you can count. If you've ever had a bad breakup, they want to hear about it and then say, "they weren't good enough for you anyway." While still focusing on you, they'll be checking Facebook for people sharing where they think they're loved ones are. We'll ask what they look like so we can get a boat launched for an ghostly interstate exit now inundated with water. We'll get texts from an aunt saying a second cousin's neighbor needs a generator and a shop vac, and they'll start loading the truck. The teenager in the room might not be able to drive, but he'll take his bike and a hammer down the street to tear up the drywall. The whole house will rejoice when some lady Mama knew way back in high-school has word that her two elderly parents in an army headed to a shelter after 24 hours of no contact. After you leave, they'll know everything about you, and you'll go home knowing how to make two kinds of roux. 

1.    It doesn't further an agenda. Working together. Community. Self-Sacrifice. Love. Forgiveness. Healing. Service. Prayer. Friendship. These aren't things that the mass media seemingly wants us as Americans to embrace. I am a teacher, and in the voices of some my students, I hear that this country is a cold, unfeeling, broken place. Sometimes I watch the tv or surf the web considering their perspective, and I can't help but giving in momentarily to their despair. Violence. Divisiveness. Vanity. Me-first. It's everywhere. It's everywhere because you put it there. You shouldn't come here because you'll find a people at the very end of their ropes extending their hands to their neighbor. You shouldn't come here because you'll find tireless spirits ready to save a stranger regardless of their race, ethnicity, religion, OR SEC affiliation. You'll find shelters full of despondent yet grateful people who are coming to grips with the fact that their material world is gone, but the things that matter remain and cannot be washed away by the ferocity of nature. You'll find rows of 4x4 pickup trucks with boats being trailed behind them headed to the once busy city streets to conduct rescue not because of compensation and not because of order by the government but because of the unspoken creed that holds South Louisiana together as something more than just people living near each other. 

TL;DR? We got this, y'all. God bless. 

Thank you KATC, WBRZ, WAFB, KLAF, HOT 107.9 and more for everything.