Hurricane Katrina vs. The Grahams: Or Why My Family Kicks Ass

Okay, so I know this blog is generally supposed to be about the crazy things that happen to me and me alone...but that mantra seems a tad bit self-absorbed and self-centered at this particular moment.

Besides, I would definitely call Hurricane Katrina a Series of Unfortunate Events, much like my blog.

Just in case you've been living under a rock for the last week, i am indeed referring to a devastating hurricane that ruined much of the beautiful Gulf Coast, one of my favorite regions of America, despite being part of the deepest, darkest bass-ackward South.

For me, Hurricane Katrina became very personal very quickly. Originally, all of my folks come from Louisiana. My dad's side still has reunions in the state. My mom and her three sisters were born and raised in New Orleans, and much of their side of the family lives there, including my mother's parents, my maternal grandparents. Shirley and Joe are now 80 years old, and while dear old grandpa is alive and kicking in spite of a 66 year love affair with tobacco, Grandma Shirley is in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's Disease, and her frail 70 lb body has begun to deteriorate. Needless to say, evacuating her in preparation for a hurricane was not really an option.

Prior to the storm, my mom made sure Grandpa Joe had made adequate preparations with plenty of food and water. As Sunday night began to fall, however, and mandatory evacuations were ordered, I became increasingly concerned for their safety. Monday morning dawned, and it seemed the worst was over. Parts of Louisiana and Mississippi were devastated, but I happily learned my grandparents were safe at home in New Orleans.

Then the unthinkable happened...well, clearly it was not unthinkable, as many experts apparently foresaw a disaster of this magnitude. The levees protecting this below sea-level city (whose dumb idea was THAT?) from the ocean and Lake Ponchartrain failed the citizens of New Orleans, and the floodwaters rushed in. When we didn't hear from Grandpa Joe, we resigned ourselves to the worst. They probably did not make it out of their house alive. But a miracle occured. This is my grandparents' harrowing story as I know it to have happened:

Grandpa Joe said the flood had reached his knees by the time he knew he had to get out of the house. He opened the door to a few neighbors that helped him get grandma to a local high school with 300 other citizens. Later he would tell me that the last thing he saw as he left the house was a picture of myself and him at my graduation ceremony from Georgetown University. It broke my heart. At the high school, they had no food, water or working toilets. By grace and grace alone, my grandpa's cell phone found a signal and he called my mother, who happened to be near the phone in Atlanta. He told her of their conditions, and my father (amazing man, really) started a phone and e-mail chain that touched thousands. We were able to finally get through to CNN, Fox News, FEMA and the U.S. Coast Guard about my grandparents' whereabouts. We still do not know who rescued them from that place. After leaving the high school, the evacuees were dropped off at an onramp to Interstate 10. There they were told to walk about 3 miles to the Convention Center or the Superdome to await buses. Grandpa could not push Grandma that far in her wheelchair, so they waited along the highway with about 100 others. They slept on the concrete of a major interstate for several nights. He said that buses "full of white people" passed him by without stopping, and that conditions deteriorated to the point that he believed "they" (law enforcement forces) were "out exterminating black people" in the street (say what you want about the racial implications of this tragedy, but the simple fact of the matter is this: my grandpa was there, he lived it, you didn't, so shut the hell up. Oh yea, and the "looters" that stole groceries from stores, well they were the ones who probably kept my family alive with their stolen goods. But yea, there's really no excuse for stealing TVs and tennish shoes...). At some point on Friday we got two voice mail messages: one from a woman named Pam who had been with my grandparents at the high school and was calling from Baton Rouge. The other was a National Guardsman with a thick Southern accent, saying, "Dr. Graham, I met your father-in-law, Joe Gaspard. He wanted me to call and tell you he's okay, and to come and get him." Later that same evening, we finally received a phone call from Grandpa Joe in Eunice, LA. He and grandma had been evacuated to a tiny Baptist church in the middle of nowhere. My parents hopped in the car, drove all the way to Louisiana and back in 21 hours. Thank God. My grandparents are now safe in Atlanta.

Needless to say, it was the longest week of my life. I didn't realize how much I really do love my family until I almost lost them. As I said in an e-mail to family and friends, all the anger I had felt over the past week had dissipated. I was angry at my grandparents for not leaving the city in the first place, angry at FEMA and the Bush administration for being incompetent as usual, angry at the crackheads shooting at rescue helicopters, angry at the racist and classist talking heads all over the country that have no clue about the day-to-day life of our nation's poorest citizens, angry at the media for making me sick with worry, the list went on and on.

All of a sudden, the things I worried and obssessed over seem so minute. My job, my love life, my money...bullshit. All of it. I have life, I have health, I have family, I have faith. I am so utterly blessed, and I don't deserve any of it. I do, however, have a new and unrelenting desire to expose evil in all of its forms; be it the Bush administration, government bureaucracy in general, racism, classism and all the other "ism's"...Look out, world, you just got yourself a new champion of justice.

I'll say it one more time: If you don't believe in miracles because you've never witnessed one, then just take one look at my family's nightmare-turned-reunion. If you still don't believe after that, then I feel sorry for you. I am happy to report that the heavens are not closed and the earnest prayers of the faithful are still answered by a merciful and loving God. I only hope that the life I live will be a testament to these statements being true.

Alrighty, I'll get off my high horse now. Just thought I'd share...