Cross & Crescent

In the past 26 years, I have never evacuated my beloved New Orleans. I remember hurricanes Ivan, Isadore, Lili, Georges, and Andrew coming near — but always turning away at the last minute.

A hurricane was an excuse to miss work for a few days or throw a party with family and friends. Banding together in a kitchen by the light of a lamp, playing cards while wondering how long the crews would take to get the power back up, became tradition.

During these storms I listened to my parents and grandparents tell stories of the big ones. Killers like Betsey, Camille, and “The Storm of 1947.” Those who survived tell tales of floodwater rising up to the roofs, families trapped in their attics, tornados destroying neighborhoods, and chaos in the streets.

It all happened before and it all would happen again. This time the killer was Katrina. For the first time in 26 years, the evacuee was me.

No Safe Place

It all began on Sunday, August 28, 2005, at 6:00 am. News outlets were reporting the storm had strengthened to a Category 5 hurricane and that no section of the city — protected by 20-foot levees — was safe.

The storm’s eye was headed straight for New Orleans and the destruction was going to be catastrophic. While the majority of my family and friends had evacuated already, a few stubborn die-hards, like me, refused to leave.

After an afternoon of phone calls from friends and televised pleas from government officials, I packed up a small bag and headed for the relative safety of Baton Rouge, just 70 miles to the west.

While sitting in traffic on I-10, I viewed this minor inconvenience as a chance to visit with friends and old Lambda Chis in Lafayette and Baton Rouge, expecting to be back to work on Wednesday. In the rearview mirror, I took a quick glance at the city skyline not realizing I would never see that same sight again.

The next morning I spoke to my parents, who decided to ride it out, and begged them not to stay. They assured me they would be fine and would call me after the storm passed. I heard nothing more from anyone I knew in New Orleans after the storm made landfall.

Around three o’clock on Tuesday morning, a phone call came out of New Orleans to a local Baton Rouge television station. The news was too shocking to believe. Just like with Betsey, the levees breached and the waters were rising. From that point on, the city went silent and my unplanned two-day vacation became an evacuation.

World of Uncertainty

The first pictures I saw showed a city underwater, people trapped on roofs, bodies floating in the streets, and roads becoming rivers. It was almost surreal; the old hurricane horror stories were returning to life as Lake Pontchartrain poured into the city.

My world became full of uncertainty. Were my parents alive? Did I still have a home? Did I still have a job? Did all the actives get out of the city in time? The questions piled with no answers in sight.

It was at this moment — when all hope seemed lost — Lambda Chi Alpha had the greatest impact on my life.

Within hours of the storm’s passing, brothers I knew from college and in my travels began calling. Offers of shelter, food, money, clothing, work, and comfort began pouring in for me and my family.

Sofas and air mattresses became my room, clothes became mine, meals were paid for, bills were taken care of, and ears were there to listen. Their compassion and brotherly love gave me the strength I needed to survive.

As the days went on, news came from the ones who had stayed behind. My family lost no one. Every member of the University of New Orleans chapter was accounted for.

The chapter house sustained serious damage along with most of the city. Chapter members are scattered across the United States. Repairs will take time. Though the tasks that lay before us are great, the chapter and its city will rise again.

I extend thanks to all my brothers who cared for me and my family during this time. Particularly I would like to thank John Fluharty, Steve Lindsey, Brad Andrepont, Cooper Evans, James Gardner, Doug Rieth, and Ryan Lasseigne.

I also want to thank every brother who offered any type of assistance to anyone affected by this storm. This journey cannot be made alone. Your help will make us strong.