Ripples
Published 12:00 am Wednesday, May 26, 1999
ANNA MONICA / L’Observateur / May 26, 1999
Like most people, there are some things I really believe. Among them is that lifeis filled with good and bad. No one experiences only one kind of thoseoccurrences; we all experience both.
For instance, the shootings at Columbine High School in Colorado were bad. Thereaction of the community and the nation, with almost 100,000 people coming to a memorial service to show their support, and the public awareness of potential problems in schools was good. The tornadoes that totally wiped outhomes and possessions, including a lifetime of memorabilia for hundreds of people in Oklahoma, was bad. The swift action of concerned, surroundingcommunities and the country, to provide so much food and clothing that they had to be asked to not bring any more, was good. And, here, locally, the tragic buscrash on Mother’s Day that took so many lives was bad. Again, the response ofthe people quick to assist at the accident scene, donate blood and reach out to each other to comfort and be comforted was good.
I often think about the May 21, 1978 flood. Never will I forget the vehicle, aVolkswagen Bug that floated down Tulane Avenue in New Orleans.I was watchingfrom my office building because they hadn’t let us leave yet. The driver,realizing he was flooded out, got out of the car, locked it and started to walk away. The little car started floating behind him. Actually, it was a littlecomical. Then, a group of people, also deserting their cars, which fortunately,didn’t float, came over to help the driver get the Volkswagen up onto the neutral ground.
When, finally, we were headed out of the city, the scene repeated itself over and over all over the city. People were helping each other. Adversity, when badthings happen, often brings out the best in people as they perform unexpected and unanticipated acts of heroism and kindness.
Who can answer “why” when we are faced with tragedy? Sometimes it affects us personally, and sometimes it affects us because we are after all, a family of human beings, subjected to the same kind of good and bad. One of the humanbeings in that tragic bus accident will never know how she affected my life, and even though I really didn’t know her, I will never forget her.
It was such a surprise to me when I saw the names of the dead from Place DuBourg and Reserve. Some of the faces were a little familiar because, I too,like some of them, have lived in the parish all my life. One face wasn’t thatfamiliar, but the name is one I will never forget. Her name was Rose Streva. Icarried her name in my wallet for several years, so I know it is the same person who perished on the bus.
Ms. Streva would not have remembered my name because our meeting was brief.We were both shopping, and why we started a conversation I can’t even remember. Possibly, I was looking at crochet yarn as she was.She told me how much she loved the Saints’ football team. In fact, she wasmaking a “Saints” afghan and was near completing it. It was then I told her Iwould like to do a story on her afghan when she finished, and she was excited about that. She gave me her name and said she lived at Place Dubourg. I was toget in touch.
Unfortunately, at that time I didn’t have much opportunity to write and we never did that story. Nonetheless, for the past few years, I have often thought aboutMs. Streva and wondered if she was still living at Place Dubourg and if she everfinished her Saints afghan.
Only recently I removed that slip of paper with her name on it from my wallet.
The next time I saw her name, it was listed among the dead in that bus crash on Mother’s Day. Suddenly, that accident became intensely personal to me. I know absolutely nothing else about Ms. Streva. If I knew her family members Iwould express my sympathy and tell them about the fond memory I have of this lady that I met in a local store who had such an outgoing personality and was filled with enthusiasm. Our meeting was brief, but because of this tragedy, thememory of her will now be with me forever. She was a true Saints’ fan. I wish Iwould have written that story.
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