Sitting in a bar in North Dallas tonight with about a hundred people who were forced to leave their homes when Hurricane Katrina unleashed holy hell on New Orleans was truly a joyous event.
I sought out a place where I knew people who had evacuated to Texas back in 2005 would be gathered to watch their team make its first ever appearance in the Super Bowl. I saw tears on their faces as it became evident the Colts, who played a great game, could not fight fate. The New Orleans Saints were about to make everyone watching the game with this native Texan feel like they were home again.
I was a reporter in Houston when Katrina came ashore, sending tens of thousands of people east on I-10. Many told me they thought they would just “go home” when it was over, not realizing there would be no “home” left after the powerful winds, rain, and flooding.
I went to a hastily set-up shelter in Baytown the morning after the storm. I will never forget the look on an elderly woman’s face when I was the one to tell her the levees had been breached and Lake Ponchatrain was pouring into the streets of the city. “There won’t be no New Orleans,” she said, gasping for breath. The woman’s daughter grabbed her mother’s hand and tried to calm her down, but there was nothing anyone could say or do. Her home was under water.
When then Mayor Bill White announced “Company’s coming,” and lots of it, I was dispatched to the Astrodome, which thousands of refugees or evacuees (there would later be a debate over what to call them) called “home” for a short while.
The idea of home is a powerful one. A good friend of mine who has never lived anywhere for very long has a hard time understanding the concept, but finds it appealing. It has always been a great source of pride for most of us from Texas to say this is where we come from; this is our piece of dirt.
At that shelter in Baytown, one of the evacuees told me that if he just had enough gas money to go home, he’d be there by the end of the week. He still lives in Texas. Former First Lady Barbara Bush told me at the Astrodome:
“What I’m hearing which is sort of scary is that they all want to stay in Texas. Everybody is so overwhelmed by the hospitality. And so many of the people in the arena here, you know, were underprivileged anyway so this (chuckle) – this is working very well for them.”
Even if everything about their lives would become materially better in Texas, the people from New Orleans who were packed into the Superdome, shuttled to the Astrodome, then spread out across Houston and other parts of the Great State would never be the same.
One of the great things about sports is the ability of the contest to bring people together regardless of race, economics, politics, or whatever else usually keeps them apart. Spirits can be lifted. Anyone who says “it’s just a game” is missing out on one of the best parts of humanity.
The people I saw tonight rejoicing over the victory of their team have had their lives turned upside down. They’re making it in this new place called Texas. They can’t just “go home,” but for a little while, home came to them. I don’t mind telling you it was beautiful.
What a moving thought. Thanks, Scott.
Hurricane Katrina and the New Orleans Diaspora that followed were a tragic, but Texas’ culture has been greatly enriched by those who came here and stayed.
So very true.
Gary, you’re exactly right.
I didn’t want to go there in the original post, but the hate directed at these folks by some has been disgusting. During the game last night, I saw where someone had posted to Facebook that the people who moved from New Orleans to his school district following the storm needed to “go home.”
Some folks don’t know what it’s like to be poor.
There were some in Houston who dehumanized those who couldn’t get out of New Orleans in time. Then, in advance of Rita, they found themselves walled into Houston by traffic and unable to escape. It opened their eyes. Funny how that works.
Great to read this. Made me wish I was there, too!