The fear, the sights, the smells, the bewildering feelings and confusion are things survivors of a natural disaster never forget. I know. I have an emotional bond with the survivors of Hurricane Katrina that extends back to Memorial Day, 1948. Fifty-seven years ago, when I was seven, my family survived the Vanport (Oregon) Flood. We were among the lucky ones who got out alive, and - like the Katrina survivors - once out of harms way, we faced the daunting prospect of starting life over with nothing but the clothes we were wearing. It is inappropriate to compare the magnitude of Katrina’s devastation with what happened in Vanport, but the haunting similarities have caused me to revisit a childlike anguish I thought the years had erased.