Katrina - Four Years Later (Part 4)

Mark and I got into the city on September 28, 2005. It was almost exactly a month from the day the levees broke. He had a military ID card that allowed us to gain entry from the interstate in Gentilly. Jefferson Parish was bustling with activity. Orleans Parish was quite the opposite. Some areas were still flooded. We tried to move across the city down Canal Boulevard, but the low lying areas were impassable.

We wound through the streets dodging limbs, cars, boats and other debris. Off of Elysian Fields we passed a home with a handicapped ramp. The mark outside indicated that a body had been found inside. We stopped for a moment to let the idea sink in. As we moved on we watched the marks move from the area near the front door on some places to the roofs of others. The water was too high at the time these houses were checked to enter through the door so holes had been cut in the roof and marks left behind. Coming over one bridge in Lakeview we found a boat still tied to the bridge in the roadway. It reminded us to be much more careful as we moved forward.

When we made it to my neighborhood the news wasn't good. A large home on the corner had burnt to the ground. I'm still not sure what happened and it left the area less recognizable. It was similar to the first time I went to my parents' house after the storm. The area looked so different with pine logs stacked 8 feet high along most of the highway. I passed the entrance to their neighborhood without even realizing it. I'd lived there for 8 years, but nothing looked the same. Nothing at all.

At my house, my car sat in the driveway covered in a gray film. Items that had been on the seats were now on the dashboard. It had a fuzzy covering of mold everywhere and lines indicating how the water receded. Mark removed my diver's flag license plate that he had given to me and tried to clean it up a little. I took some pictures, closed the door and left the car key on the windshield. The insurance company would have their proof.

Opening the front door was no easy task. The wood had swollen shut and we had to use a sledgehammer to enter. Inside, it looked as though a bomb had gone off. Despite being three feet off the ground, two feet of water had still filled the house. Mold had begun creeping up the walls and there were tiny brown frogs everywhere. Furniture had collapsed causing the destruction of even more things. I took the comforter off of my bed and the sheets below were mildewed.

I was an emotional wreck as I went through photo albums to salvage what I could. We worked for hours and it didn't feel like we made any progress. We drug the refrigerator to the front of the house being careful not to let the black sludge touch us. An hour or so before dusk we took some sentimental things that had survived and left for Mark's house.

It was like night and day, the differences in the two neighborhoods. Mark lived closer to the river than me, but only about four miles away. While my neighborhood was gray and lifeless, his was vibrant with blooming hibiscus and power! Holy crap, he had power! Most of the city didn't have power. His Mardi Gras lights lit up the entrance way as we walked into the sweet air conditioning. One second later we were hit with the most nauseating stench imaginable.

One major danger of losing power as a south Louisiana resident is the danger of losing your freezer contents. For example, it would be really bad if you had 50 pounds of beautiful Louisiana brown shrimp in your freezer that liquefied in the heat. Yes, it would be very bad. And it was.

More black sludge to avoid and another refrigerator to drag outside. Ew.

The water wasn't potable but I did hop in the shower to rinse off the crud from the day. We gathered a few of Mark's things headed out of the city as the curfew was going into effect. The National Guard took pity on us and just let us go. We were emotionally and physically exhausted.

The only way to describe what we saw is to think of every end-of-the-world movie you can imagine and make your city the star. Darkness, lifelessness, abandoned structures, stench - it was all there. That's the picture that I try to remember when I look at where we are today. That's the main image that helps me to see how far we've come in these last four years.

Katrina - Four Years Later (Part 3)

I realized over here at part 3 of my story that I have named these "Four years later" and I haven't said anything about how things are today. I guess this is one of those time where you have to know where you've been to figure out how far you've come.

Back to the story...

A lot of things were happening all at once. While we were at my sister's house in New Jersey we were trying to track down unaccounted for friends, relatives and still, the pets. A friend of my Dad's was notorious for riding these things out at his home in Violet, Louisiana in St. Bernard Parish. We knew that every structure in St. Bernard had flooded, but couldn't find out any details about the family friend.

We scoured sites looking for and posting updates. It was exhausting trying to find people you knew and trying to let people who were looking for you know that you were okay. I can't even remember how many web sites I visited. I just know it was something we would do for hours at a time for days on end. We finally found my dad's friend in a small town in Texas. He decided to leave at the last minute. Thank God.

When I arrived in Houston my company had allowed me to rent a car on my corporate card and had set up a furnished apartment for me to share with a co-worker.

I know that the world looked on in horror not only at the devastating toll this storm took on New Orleans and her citizens, but also at how people can behave like animals in the absence of law. I cannot deny that I was sickened by what people in my hometown did to each other in those days. I'm not talking about the people who stole out of desperation, I'm talking about the people who used this horrible event as an opportunity to behave like the animals they apparently are. However, I would be remiss if I did not tell you that the storm renewed my faith in humanity as well.

The tremendous outpouring of love and generosity that I experienced was mind boggling. For a very long time (and sometimes even now) the weight of it all would make me cry at the drop of a hat. During this time, there was always someone willing to offer a hand, a hug or a gentle word. New Orleanians who didn't know one another would meet and embrace out of a tragic common bond. If you did know them, well, the hug would last longer and there were usually tears too. Time here is still referenced by "before the storm" and "after the storm."

Some people just couldn't understand the enormity of it all. I had a prescription waiting for me at a drugstore in New Orleans for the day we were to return. When I went to have it filled at another branch of the chain in Denver, the associate couldn't understand why she couldn't call the original drugstore. "Do you mean they're all closed? Are you sure?" Yes. I'm sure. And I'm sure they'll be closed for a while.

My car insurance company wouldn't help me out until I could prove that there was damage to my car. You see, the problem was that the storm happened on August 29, 2005 and the city didn't even reopen until September 29, 2005. It was supposed to open earlier, but a little hurricane named Rita pushed things back. (By the way, it always amazed me how active that hurricane season was. In one month we went from K to R in the hurricane name list. Wow.) I was fairly certain my car was dead, but I couldn't prove it so there was nothing they could do. We were somewhat certain that Mark's car was fine, but we couldn't prove that either. It was still stuck in the New Orleans airport's parking garage.

About three weeks after the storm, I walked into my Houston office to find a message from the veterinarian who was boarding Mark's pets at the time of the hurricane. The pets were at the LSU Ag Center and needed to be picked up ASAP due to extreme overcrowding. My heart fluttered and I immediately called Mark to tell him the good news. We couldn't believe that we would be able to see them again. A coworker was making a regular drive between Baton Rouge and Houston and offered to pick them up. He had no idea what he was getting into.

Chaos reigned at the site and the pets had no identification and were in the wrong carriers. For some reason the previous practice had been to return the collars to the owners when the pets were left so there was no way of identifying them except by sight. I sent him some photos and descriptions and through some sort of divine intercession he found the right animals. I was scared to death when I met him in Houston to pick up the animals. On his drive over he mentioned how quiet they were. I can tell you this, no one has ever used the word "quiet" to describe Mark's cat. But lo and behold, he did great and our babies were back. They had ridden out the storm at the vet's office in Metairie and been evacuated the following day. I cannot even imagine how terrifying all of this was for them.

My corporate apartment was maxed out with my two cats (my parents took the outdoor kitty as their own) so I had to find a place for Mark's babies. The wonderful people in Humble kept them for a little while and gave them the love they needed after their ordeal. I visited every night after work to get them re-acclimated to not living in cages. I arranged with Continental airlines to have them flown to Mark's dad's house in North Carolina. Mark would be able to pick them up from there. Everyone really was great and it all worked out. I still can't believe they were safe - traumatized, but safe.

Around the time Rita decided to visit on September 24th, my parents had made several round trips between Humble and Lacombe. The hardwood floors were ripped up, the refrigerator and freezers cleaned out (an incredibly disgusting job that many people in the area had to complete and are now bonded by) and the house was mostly livable. The hole in the roof impacted the kitchen/den portion of the house so they could be relatively comfortable in the bedroom portion. They decided to move home to continue cleaning the house and the land. I ended up packing up the kitties and evacuating from Houston back to their house to ride out Rita.

Mark's company needed volunteers to head into the city to pick up the equipment that was salvageable to bring to their alternate location. He volunteered to help out so that he could see the city firsthand and check on our places too. There was so much work to be done everywhere.