That Damn Gustav

The latest models for Hurricane Gustav have literally formed knots in my stomach. The National Hurrricane Center has moved the path further west and right over my home town. That thin purple line is running right through the place where my parents, 95% of my family and most of my friends live.

We had a lengthy discussion about Hurricane Katrina today because of the anniversary. I don’t usually talk about those days – it’s all still a little raw even three years later.

I learned things in those days that I never wanted to know and never needed to know… that the smell of death sticks in your nostrils long after you’ve walked away and even the happiest people have their breaking points in tragedy. I learned that last lesson when my old Public Information Officer committed suicide after he lost hope – stuck and forgotten down there.

I learned that two things happen to people when they are faced with such dire situations. Some people rise to the occasion and band together while others revert to savagery and desperation. Both are instincts of survival and given the situation, I can’t really blame anyone for choosing either. Maybe the circumstance chooses for you.

I’d lie if I said I’m not worried about all those I left behind in Louisiana. If it hits the coast as a nasty category 4 monster, by the time it reaches my family, it could still be a vengeful category 2 storm. I wish I was there, just to not feel so powerless.

To my friends and former co-workers in New Orleans – my heart is with you. And to my family and closest friends in Central Louisiana – you know I would be there if I could.

Gustav Eyes New Orleans

I called my parents up for our nightly conversation. I’m a momma’s boy – sue me. They were busy making a list of what they needed in their hurricane kit, because Hurricane Gustav is on the way.

My dad was getting ready to make sure there was enough gas in the emergency generator and my mom was taking inventory of the non-perishable food in the pantry. That’s just what you do in Louisiana when a storm is coming.

Here we are on the eve of Hurricane Katrina’s anniversary and Louisiana is in a state of emergency with the National Guard activated for another storm. Mayor Ray Nagin and Sen. Mary Landrieu planned on leaving the Democratic Convention early to head home. It’s eerie – it stirs up a bit of sadness.

My hometown is further inland and usually hurricanes drop to a Cat 1 or so by the time they reach us, but that's still a major storm. The hotel rooms there are already booked in advance from people getting ready to evacuate from the southern Parishes. It brings back memories that I’m not interested in recalling.

In the days to follow, I’ll blog more about my experiences living through and covering Katrina, but my prayers are with my friends and family in Louisiana as Gustav continues growing. I honestly get a sick feeling in my stomach every time I walk by the Weather Center and see the projected track going right to the mouth of the Mississippi.

Those of us who covered Katrina have an unspoken bond. When we meet each other, even today, we know that we share something special – something tragic. You didn’t walk into New Orleans those first few days and not walk away changed.

It’s hard for me being all the way over here in Charleston while plywood is going on windows and families are making evacuation plans back at home. When that storm finally hits, I will undoubtedly want to be in the mouth of the madness with those I love who are hunkered down riding it out. Though there is nothing I could do to help there… I feel helpless here.