Accounts of Katrina: Survival and Recovery

My Katrina Story

By Rev. Eddie Gros, S.J., Dean, University Ministry

Little did my Aunt Claire know that on Sunday afternoon, August 28, her old garaged auto would be the lifeboat for her and my 99-year-old grandmother on a one-way 14-hour trip to Alexandria. Two weeks later, in a retirement facility, my grandmother had a debilitating stroke that took her life. The Old Metairie house is so damaged now, Aunt Claire has written it off forever.

Little did my 80 year Mom know that her choice to report to work with my sister at Baptist Hospital would not afford her safe refuge but actually trap her in a very insecure and uncomfortable hellhole, from which she would eventually be rescued, first by boat, then garbage truck, and finally (happily) by her son in a pick-up truck.

One sister fled to Texarkana, a brother to Alexandria, a sister to Mobile, a brother to Arkansas, a brother to Baton Rouge, a brother to Covington, and I evacuated with the Loyola students to Baton Rouge. It took us a painfully long 10 days to find out that we had all escaped harm. My mother’s situation at Baptist was everyone’s deepest concern as we had very poor communication with the hospital. Ultimately it was my sister in Colorado who was finally able to piece the entire puzzle together, as she relentlessly fought to get through to our crippled cell phones from her out-of-town vantage point.

Family homes were lost: my brother in Violet, my brother in Bay St. Louis, my niece and my uncle in Chalmette, my aunt in New Orleans East, my aunt in Old Metairie. And then there are friends’ homes, too. The list goes on if you are a New Orleanean. Shattered dreams, security washed away: that’s our reality.

We all know the sickening smell of that black mud, the stench of decaying food, the heartbreaking scene of ruined and washed-away memories. It is a lifeless world in brown, white and gray.

My boots remain in the trunk of my car along with some well-worn work gloves. Every weekend it is another house to clean, another attempt to save what memories we can, and, most importantly, another chance to be connected with my family. Spending time helping them is probably the thing that gives my life most meaning these days. Everything else seems like so much rubbish.

Updated on November7, 2005