Katrina gives one family's life a new perspective

Author: Lucy Faust

My parents and I had never evacuated for any of the several hurricanes that have swept across New Orleans in the past and we weren't planning on doing so now. As most people packed up and shipped out over the weekend before Katrina's scheduled arrival, we moved furniture and valuables away from windows and into the safety of the hallway. We prepared to wait out the storm at home. Towards Sunday afternoon, my dad started to get nervous: predictions of Katrina were sounding more dire, and most everyone we knew was either leaving or had already done so. Indeed, our neighborhood was practically deserted. People and cars were gone, houses were boarded up and locked and an unnatural silence blanketed the area.

The more news we watched, the more nervous my dad became until he finally decided that we were going to leave, whether we wanted to or not. Katrina was looking more and more like it could be the long-anticipated "direct hit" hurricane, which could potentially devastate the city.

Oh well, we thought, how long will we be away? Two days, probably three at the most. We threw some clothes in suitcases, got into the car and made our way to the small town of Cheneyville in central Louisiana, where my mom's family has a farm. The drive, which usually takes about three hours, took us around eight or nine, due to the heavily crowded roads and slow moving - when it moved at all - traffic. We arrived in Cheneyville around one in the morning. Most of the rest of the family had also decided to come there, as well as a few friends. There were 23 of us in all, plus a contingent of pets - four dogs, two cats and a turtle.

For the first four or five days, we were all absolutely glued to the television watching the news. Katrina's floodwaters had broken the protective levees around New Orleans, and the city was completely waterlogged. The images on the news were heartbreaking. It is so difficult to watch people in such extreme distress, to see your hometown slowly sinking. However, the steadily rising floodwaters were not the only hazard to which the city was exposed - fires were also breaking out all over, caused by gas, heating, or sometimes arson. Watching footage of familiar landmarks engulfed in flames was particularly jarring.

It was infuriating to watch all of the looting that was going on during the days directly after the storm. Although the mayor eventually ordered a mandatory evacuation, at this point there were plenty of people still there, and the amount of looting taking place was despicable. Going into a grocery store and taking food, water and supplies is one thing. Breaking into private homes and stores and emerging with television sets, jewelry and stereos is quite another. When the National Guard arrived, they were able to get the looting more or less under control. But many businesses that weren't already ravaged by the storm were left in shambles.

Around the second week after the storm, citizens were allowed to re-enter New Orleans, but only for a limited time and with an appropriate pass. My dad received a pass for his work and was able to see the city from up close. He said it was like an occupied city: National guardsmen patrolled every street, hummers roved all around, helicopters flew overhead and guns could be heard - the whole nine yards. Other than that, there was an uncanny silence hovering over the city. There was still a lot of water in the city as my dad and his co-workers navigated the streets in a paddleboat.

The mayor had planned to let residents back into New Orleans starting on Sept. 17, but since rescinded that plan due to the most unwelcome presence of another hurricane in the Gulf, Hurricane Rita.

So here we are, waiting. Waiting to see when we'll be allowed to return home so that we can begin to help rebuild our city and do whatever we can to help our fellow citizens. But we are not by any means idling. Several of my relatives who are up here, including my father, are pulling themselves up by their bootstraps, trying to rebuild their businesses and jobs and do what they can to better their situations instead of waiting for someone else to do it. My cousin owns a small business in New Orleans, and having located all her employees, is in the process of setting up temporary operations in Houston and taking care of numerous complications presented by Katrina. We are very, very lucky in that our house is still standing - other family members have lost everything. Another cousin, whose house and possessions were all wiped out, procured a job in Florida and headed down there with her husband and child.

Meanwhile, my mother and I have done some volunteering with the Salvation Army and are keeping abreast of all new reports from the city. We are also constantly trying to get in touch with friends and family, which has proved difficult because communications have been down for quite some time. Only just a few days ago were the cell phone services up and running again. It is difficult to know where people are because so many of them are scattered across the country.

Something unsettling about my return to New Orleans is the fact that there will hardly be anyone there. Those who have lost their homes probably won't be back right away. In addition, the schools in Orleans parish, including colleges and universities, have been closed until January. New Orleans students are enrolled in schools across the country from Houston to Destin to Asheville and, of course, even Middlebury. That means that there will be few students in the city for the fall semester. Though I am not completely sure what that will be like, I can sense that it will be eerie.

The New Orleans we return to will be a city that is in need of rehabilitation and is different from the one that we have previously known. But in a way, rebuilding the city and helping those who are desperately in need will be an exciting endeavor. We are hoping to open our home to co-workers who have lost their homes but still have jobs to return to. We do not know when our return will be possible, but we are ready to go back and get to work. Our city means too much to us.

Meanwhile, we are more grateful than we can say to people all over the country, for their support and acts of generosity, both small and large. As the situation continues to unfold, I will be happy to report. Until then...click, click, click...there's no place like home, there's no place like home.