Happy Birthday Dwayne

I still remember the feeling I experienced 6 years ago. With the threat of Hurricane Katrina still a category III, many of my family and friends did what they had always done – made preparations and plugged into the news. One of my first phone calls came from my mother. That made it real because she had already lived through the devastating Hurricane Betsey while she was 9 months pregnant with my sister. My sister-in-law had come to Texas along with my nieces and nephew while my brother, whose job is considered essential personnel, stayed behind. My husband’s family began arriving at our home on Sunday and everyone was accounted for.
With a full house, we huddled around the television. The storm made landfall and it was intense as expected. However, everyone made plans to return home in a few days. It was just about then that my brother, Dwayne, called with a startling reality. In our first and last live conversation before the cell phone signals dropped indefinitely, he said something that I can still hear clearly. He said, it’s bad and it’s going to take years for this to be straightened out. I realize now that I didn’t fully understand the severity of that statement. He was in the French Quarter at the time we were speaking which was just a few hours after the storm made landfall. We spoke for about ten minutes. He was shaken, which is unusual for him, grateful that his wife and kids were safe but torn about being apart from them. We quickly made plans and I drove to pick them up. He knew they were going to be here for a while.
My house was busy. Everyone was rattled and decisions had to be made quickly. My husband and three kids, including my newborn at the time, shared our bedroom. Two family units occupied the other two bedrooms and someone else slept on the sofa bed. Everyone was tired. Everyone wanted to go home and everyone wanted to understand the state of his or her home. It was as if we were all waiting to breath again.
One of the things that still brings tears to my eyes is what happened in my neighborhood long before FEMA realized that now would be a good time to act. Neighbors began to knock on my door and offer solutions for housing and other generous donations. Some offered rooms, some offered their personal trailers or mobile home, some offered transportation services, some gave donations of toiletries, pajamas or sweats and some gave monetary donations.
I was then and still am extremely proud of the place that I now call home. For some of my family members, this was their first visit and I’m sure that this is one first impression that they will forever remember. For the moment there was a sense of comfort because no one was prepared for what happened next. Over the next few days I watched the series of absolutely unbelievably hysteria unfold as many parts of the city were totally submerged in water. I cried because the beautiful place that I still considered home would never be the same again.
Over the years as this time approaches, I get the same bittersweet feeling. I wish my conversation with my brother that day was simply to wish him a happy birthday.