HUNTSVILLE — Five years.

It’s hard to imagine it’s been that long. It feels like a lifetime ago, but at the same time, it’s like it happened yesterday.

While many memories can, with time, become blurred, everything that happened because of Hurricane Katrina’s wrath and unrelenting force are still as crystal clear to me as the day it happened.

You hear and read all the time but how people are impacted by disasters, but until you live through it, you never really know what it’s like.

Even today, five years after the fact, it’s still hard to grasp everything that happened — the hurricane’s havoc and her aftermath.

I’d like to say that after all this time, getting to accomplish things like continuing my college education and getting a job, that as an adult and a journalist that I would become — I don’t know if desensitized is the right word — but not be as affected so much by it. As much as I’d like to say that, I can’t honestly.  

Watching the different TV programs about Katrina last week, which aired on National Geographic, NBC and CNN, I’ll admit that I got through them, but it was extremely difficult. Even after all this time, it’s a wound that still cuts pretty deep.



To stay or go?

I can still remember the days leading up to it because my mother and I were still contemplating leaving. It sounds crazy to think about it now, but whether or not we would evacuate was still pretty much up in the air just a couple of days before.

One of the main reasons being that after living along the Gulf Coast for a certain number of years I knew that, depending on the strength and organization of the storm and where it makes landfall — one side of the hurricane is particularly nastier than the other — you may not necessarily have to evacuate and you’d be all right.

Consider that prior to Katrina, the last two major hurricanes to cause significant damage to Louisiana and surrounding states were Betsy (1965) and Camille (1969).

Even in my lifetime, there were several storms threatening New Orleans that were called the potential “big one” and ended up as close calls that didn’t amount to much in my hometown of Slidell, La., located approximately 27 miles northeast of New Orleans.

Back in 1998, when I was a junior in high school, Hurricane Georges, after ripping through the islands in the Caribbean made a B-line toward the Crescent City and looked to threaten all of the Louisiana coastline. Without much thought, my mother, father and I evacuated to Mississippi, where we thought we’d be safe.

As hurricanes often are, Georges was unpredictable. After passing between Florida and Cuba, Georges strengthened to no more than a Category 2 storm as it made its way through the Gulf. As we sat on blankets at the shelter in Gulfport, Miss., listening to weather updates along with everyone else, we started to hear reports that the storm was headed east. That ended up being the case and we had to evacuate from where we were taking shelter and ended up at Camp Shelby, a military training facility just south of Hattiesburg, Miss. Once we returned home, there were some leaves scattered along the ground and a few branches but nothing major.

A few years later, another storm was threatening our way of life. While I was going to college at Southeastern Louisiana, Lili was making her way through the Gulf and had her sights set on the Louisiana coast. Lili at one point was a Category 4 hurricane, but she weakened rapidly to a Category 1 hurricane and was headed toward southwest Louisiana. Once the winds gusts were not as severe, my mother and I decided to stick it out. Even as a Category 1 storm, Lili hit parishes in Cajun country pretty hard. As far as we were concerned, it was another close call.

Then in 2004, two years after Lili and less than a year before Katrina would strike, Ivan came rolling in. After battering Jamaica, Cuba and Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula, Ivan strengthened to a Category 4. It was barreling straight for southeastern Louisiana, so my mother and I evacuated to Livingston and stayed at a hotel. Just before landfall, Ivan took a sharp turn to the northwest toward the Mississippi-Alabama border. The eyewall of the storm weakened considerably and the southwest portion of the storm, the part that would affect Louisiana, nearly disappeared. Once we returned home a couple of days after the storm hit Gulf Shores, Ala., you’d be hard-pressed to tell that a hurricane was even in the area.

With all of these close calls and near-misses in recent years, once we heard that Katrina was headed toward New Orleans, we just wanted to wait and see what path the hurricane would take.

Meteorologists kept saying that Katrina could become a powerful storm once it entered the Gulf after passing the southern tip of Florida. We heard it most likely would veer north toward New Orleans, but also that it might continue its westwardly path toward Mexico.

Not really knowing what was going to happen, my mother continued to work and I monitored the situation.

Then late in the week, Katrina strengthened into a Category 5 hurricane and continued on its projected route toward my beloved New Orleans.

It become abundantly clear that we were directly in Katrina’s path, my mother and I had a feeling that this was going to be a bad one.

Calling her at Walgreen’s, where she worked the graveyard shift as a cashier, to give her updates throughout the early morning hours, I finally caved in on that early Saturday morning — less than 48 hours before Katrina would strike — and said that we needed to make evacuation plans.  

While she was finishing her shift, I was busy packing up the car. Typically, you’d draw enough cash out of the bank and pack up enough food and clothing for about three days. We’d been through this before and figured that would be enough supplies to last us through the weekend and that we’d be back in our apartment in Slidell by Monday.

After evacuating for Ivan, I got to know the East Texas area fairly well so I started to call for hotel vacancies. After calling about 30 hotels and motels in the Conroe area, I found one in Huntsville, the Sam Houston Motel, which is now the America’s Best Value Inn, located near the bowling alley. Once my mother returned home from work, we hit the road.



The long road ahead

Apparently we were not the only ones who took a wait-and-see approach. The interstate and highways were jam-packed with people from the New Orleans area and from where we lived trying to get out. Inching along in near triple-degree heat with Louisiana humidity — without any air conditioning in my car — if you moved at all, your patience was surely tested.

Almost baking in the car, my mother was getting a little dehydrated so we stopped at the rest stop in Lafayette, La. to cool down for a bit. A trip that normally takes about two and a half hours took us about six to that point.

After getting a chance to rest, we refueled and got a bite to eat, and then we got back in the car and continued on our way. Traffic was still pretty clogged, but once we got into Texas, the drive was easier. Not only was it cooler as the sun was starting to set, but drivers started heading in different directions. Some were going to San Antonio and some took shop in Houston, while my mother and I started driving toward Huntsville once we got to Beaumont.

It wasn’t until night had fallen, that we had reached our destination. Finally.



Waiting and praying

After getting settled in at the motel that night, where several other New Orleanians had evacuated to, all we could do the next day was sit helplessly and watch the TV in the lobby as Katrina creeped toward the coast.

Then Katrina becomes a Category 5 hurricane with winds gusting in at more than 150 miles per hour and New Orleans is given a mandatory evacuation order.

Just like that, it all became real.

The storm that we had learned to fear ever since we knew what hurricanes were was about to make its mark.

It didn’t appear that we —my family, friends and the city I love — would be able to dodge another bullet.

While my mother and I were safe here in Huntsville, I could only think about my family and what was going to happen.

Later on that night, one of the worst hurricanes in history would unleash an onslaught and we were helpless.

It wasn’t until after midnight that Katrina’s gale force winds would reach land, not just in Louisiana but also in Mississippi and Alabama.

I’ve got to admit, I felt pretty helpless. Power had started to go out along the coast and my sister, Erinn, along with her 3-year-old daughter and husband were huddled inside a shelter at Keesler Air Force Base in Biloxi, Miss. I couldn’t contact them, I couldn’t reach them.

However, a few days later, our cell phones were working and I was able to get in touch with Erinn. There was a ton of damage, but she, my niece and my borther-in-law were all safe, which was the important thing.

Even though there was video of storm surges rolling in, I couldn’t bring myself to watch it.  

The brief glimpse of it I had was enough. I didn’t need to see it. New Orleans, a place I had been to countless times to watch Saints games or relax in the French Quarter and enjoy some beignets, my hometown and the rest of the Gulf Coast was getting thrashed.

Knowing what was happening, especially after the levees were breached, was pretty hard to bear. I just remember that I couldn’t take it anymore and I had to step outside, tears streaming down my cheeks.

It wasn’t necessarily the physical things like the apartment my mother and I shared, or bridges or roads were getting damaged. Those things, with time, would get repaired and be back to normal.

It was just the thought that all I knew would be wiped away. Places I had visited and become familiar with in Louisiana as well as Mississippi, playgrounds where I played on the swings, recreation centers where I played soccer and basketball and baseball. All of those memories, everything that made me the person I am, I wouldn’t have those things anymore.

I knew then what Louis Armstrong meant in his classic jazz hit, “Do You Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans?”



Such kindness

As bad as it all was, the storm was all over and we could finally go home. Or at least so we thought.

We were all ready to see what kind of damage we were looking at, but nobody was allowed to come home yet.

We had only planned to be away for a few days, but now we were going to have stick it out for a while.

We didn’t exactly count on spending as much money on a hotel as we did, so now we had to take shelter at First Baptist Church.

There my mother and I found unrelenting kindness from everyone around Walker County. Bags and bags of clothes were donated, meals were dispersed and children were read stories. We were welcomed and allowed to join the Huntsville community with open arms.

As distraught as we were, the community really made an effort to comfort us and all of the other evacuees. It was truly humbling. In the face of a tragedy of this magnitude, it was the last thing we were expecting. But we couldn’t have been anymore thankful.



Returning home

After two weeks, we were finally allowed to go home to see what awaited us.

Once we got home, thanks to a Huntsville man whose name I can’t recall, my mom and I drove back to Slidell to see how bad it was and gather any belongings we could.

Seeing countless amounts of tarps on roofs and molded carpets sitting upon on medians was a sad sight to see.

It wasn’t as though we lived in New Orleans and it wasn’t as though we had a house right on the Lake Pontchartrain bank. Even five miles inland, nearly three and a half feet filled our home — that’s how high the mold was on our walls.

We had the presence of mind to put our prized belongings on higher ground, but not everything was salvageable. The ink from photos had been smeared to the point of being unrecognizable.

For the most part, though, we were able to take many of our belongings, such as clothing and pictures with us.

The apartment complex would have to be gutted.



Five years later

We knew that we wouldn’t be able to stay there, so we came back to Huntsville.

My mom was able to transfer to Walgreen’s and has worked there ever since. I was able to continue my education at Sam Houston State and eventually got a job as a reporter for The Huntsville Item.

None of this would have been possible without the kindness of everyone around Huntsville.

Storms like this will certainly leave an indelible mark. But to be welcomed with open arms like my mother and I were, we surely won’t forget it and certainly don’t take it for granted.

Even though we’re not from here, my mother and I have made to feel at home.

I will always be a Louisianian at heart and will always take great pride in being from the New Orleans area, but what was done for us in our time of need; we’ll remember that always.