NOTE: This is a long post...
Yep. It sure seemed funny back then, but it’s been ten years since I called them that – that is, time off school/work for a seemingly meaningless evacuation due to a storm that either turned away or diminished before landfall. This time, though, we went through a really tough time. New Orleans, however, is back and I think it’s better than before. All of it thanks to strangers’ graciousness and the resiliency of New Orleans residents. Many of you experienced it during New Year’s weekend – one of the greatest weekends for The Ohio State University.
On Saturday evening, August 27, 2005, my brother and I took my two oldest boys to the New Orleans Zephyrs game. There was a big storm in the Gulf, but it wasn’t headed our way. Late in the game, a weird hush descended as whispers were passing through the crowd. The storm’s path had changed.
We’d stayed for some storms before and evacuated for others. This one had a different feel. We chose not to mess with it and prepped to leave the next day. My brother loaded as much stuff as he could into his truck while my family packed as much as we could into our two cars. We then parked my brother’s truck on my parking garage’s highest floor downtown. After that, we all skipped town.
We evacuated to a sugarcane plantation in Donalsonville between New Orleans and Baton Rouge. It’s called Palo Alto and has been in my wife’s family since 1854. It’s where we always went during storms. I know how fortunate I was as few people have the luxury of evacuating such a short distance to family and safety. We hunkered down there with family and friends. Must’ve been 25-30 people staying in the main house.
Monday morning started off as a fairly nice day. It got bad for us in D’ville, but I cannot imagine what it was like for Gulfport, Mississippi where she made landfall. And we were on the “good” part of the storm. You don’t have to live in the Southeast for long to know more about hurricanes than most people in many parts of the country. New Orleans was on the Northeast part of Katrina – the “bad” side. A funny part of this, I guess, is that I learned how to text because cell service was kaput.
TV was brutal. Initially, we thought the Crescent City had dodged the bullet, but then the storm surge broke the levees. I was helpless as I watched the destruction of my adopted city – my home. As far as I could tell from reports my house was okay, but I had no confirmation. We also knew there’d be looters.
I’ll never forget sitting in the Chimes Bar on LSU campus a few days after landfall (yes, I got hives from it) when my brother says, “Hey, isn’t that Clayton’s house?” It was. A house two doors down from his was engulfed in flames thanks to looters. The fire department couldn’t respond in 7 feet of floodwater. Clayton had stayed through the storm. He managed to find a pirogue (Cajun canoe) and was paddling around Uptown bringing people stranded in their homes to the Ursuline School when he saw the smoke from the direction of his house. He paddled home and grabbed what he could as the house next door caught fire and then paddled away. I asked later him why and his response was simple. “Would you stay and watch your house burn?”
Six days following landfall, I was able to sneak back into the city. I came in through the “back way” as the interstate was closed. “Sneak” probably isn’t correct since the National Guard was stopping traffic at the parish line – going out. I wasn’t stopped going in and to this day I still don’t understand why I wasn’t stopped instead of people leaving.
Streets were hardly passable. Trees, poles, and wires were down everywhere. My eyes welled with tears when I saw my neighborhood’s condition as I weaved my way to our house. Mercifully, it was dry and only one tree had fallen on it. While the city was still flooded, the water stopped roughly 8 blocks from my house. The smell is what I remember upon getting out of the car. I soon found out that it was from the food rotting in all of the fridges in town – a smell that wouldn’t fully dissipate for several months. We didn’t stay long. Cleaned out the fridge, grabbed the silver and some clothes before leaving. To this day, Mrs. NOLA is still pissed that I evacuated with my then-rare bottle of Green Spot that was sitting next to the silver while leaving the silver behind.
It’s hard to know how traumatic that type of situation can be. I was able to move back 6 weeks later, but my family stayed away for another month. My city was broken; many of my friends lost everything. All I suffered was roof damage and a lost fridge. But the trauma I witnessed and dealt with daily took a toll. One thing I’ll never forget, though, is the comfort and support I received from my family and friends in Ohio. St. Charles Prep students raised a significant amount of money for Katrina victims and asked me where they should send it. I put them in touch with Jesuit High School, which is where two of my boys are in school now. It sat in 8 feet of water for weeks. But this is one small example of Buckeye compassion and generosity.
I get tearful when I think of everyone’s kindness. So, 10 years later, thank you Buckeyes. We needed the help.
