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.

Katrina - Four Years Later (Part 2)

Mark was called to work in Virginia as soon as he could get there. My company hadn't made a determination yet, but it was time to give our friends their home back. With the Labor Day weekend only a few days away, my parents (through the amazing generosity of a friend with frequent flier miles) and I decided to meet at my sister's house in New Jersey. My niece was only 9 months old and would definitely be the distraction I needed. There was the additional benefit of being with family. Mark and I each took our waiting ticket from Frontier and decided to leave Denver on Wednesday morning.

To say that it was hard to leave Mark after all of this would be an understatement. So much uncertainty loomed over us. We didn't know what had happened to our homes, many of our friends, the pets, my car or our beloved city. We didn't even know when we would see each other again. I think I cried most of the way to New Jersey.

Most of our time spent with my sister consisted of trying to find out what was going on back in New Orleans. Looking at satellite maps from Google and trying to piece together bits of information led me to believe that my car might be toast, but my apartment would be okay. The apartment was 3 feet off the ground and 5 1/2 miles away from where the levees failed. I held out hope that all would be alright.

We couldn't find out much about my parents' house at all. They live on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain which meant they were likely spared the flooding that the city of New Orleans experienced. However, their home was surrounded by tall pine trees that could have snapped in Katrina's high winds.

While it wasn't a great idea to go exploring, my mom's brother had stayed behind during the storm and drove by their house on Saturday. The only message we got was "Drove by your house. Bad." Finally, a neighbor of my parents made it into the neighborhood and called us with the news. Four trees had fallen on their home and broke the roof beam. He was trying to put a tarp over it to stop further damage. Not the news we wanted but I can't tell you the value of just knowing what's going on. It's the not knowing that has the greatest chance of driving you bat-shit crazy.

Mom and Dad made preparations to fly back to Texas to pick up their car and the kitties. They had flown with my old girl, Magie, who was the most phenomenal traveling kitty ever. She never made a peep in the car and it turned out she was a fantastic airplane traveler as well. Not to mention, she soothed my soul and that was the best part.

Some friends in Humble, Texas - the same ones who gave my parents their airline miles - offered to host my parents and the herd of cats while they figured out what to do next. The Humble house would become a base camp for trips to get the house livable again. They decided to leave on Tuesday. My company set the New Orleans employees up in temporary housing in Houston so that we would have a place to stay and a job to go to.

I left Newark on Monday afternoon entirely unsure about my new life and armed with the only possessions I would have for another month. All I had fit in a 24" roll aboard suitcase.