Tampa Photography Blog

There’s always a time during a disaster when feelings start to switch from desperation and chaos to generosity and normalcy.

I drove to a huge fire on Royal Street a week after Katrina hit and found that firefighters from New York were helping their NOLA brothers in need. They were all working harmoniously, even without standard fire hydrants available. Helicopters dropped tons of water on top of the blaze to keep it from spreading. No one was panicked—everyone knew they had a job to do and it didn’t matter that they weren’t on duty or that they weren’t in their home town. That’s a sign of good things to come.

Then I met Ed Garcia from Port St. Lucie, Florida. He rented a U-Haul with two friends, gathered $8,000 of their personal money and bought as much food and water as they could. They drove to Lacombe, Louisiana where no government help had arrived yet. The sight of a U-Haul truck filled with supplies was a sign that maybe someone did care about them. Maybe someone was trying to help, even if that help was offered by strangers from south Florida.

September 4, 2005 journal entry:

“I was sent out on a mission today to go to the shelter at LSU to see seven kids (coincidentally named the Love family) who are being flown to San Antonio, Texas to be reunited with their parents. There’s a mile of red tape getting into this shelter because there are medical patients and kids involved. A guard escorts us to the parking lot where the volunteers are saying goodbye to the kids as they load into a van. I’m so glad I caught them when I did! The volunteers were having a hard time letting go, as were the children. They were together for a week while the National Center for Missing and Exploited Children tried to locate their parents. What amazed me about the Love family was that there were seven children under ten years old and they stuck together, found shelter, told an adult what happened and got out alive. That’s perseverance.”

The best sign of normalcy I found was when I stumbled upon Johnny White’s Sports Bar and Grill on Bourbon Street a week after Katrina made landfall. I walked in to find the bar buzzing with activity and a bartender behind the bar taking drink orders. Francis (the Times reporter) and I looked at each other like “Really?” We started talking to patrons with bandages on their hands and head who were ordering shots of Southern Comfort like it was a Friday night happy hour. And a 14-year-old cardboard sign was still taped behind the bar that read "Never Closed."

Even though I couldn’t imagine drinking alcohol at a time like that when I had lost everything, I understood the need for normalcy. Only two bars were open on Bourbon Street by then but locals were flocking to them, just to get a taste of what they knew to be real. If ordering a round of shots for your friends helps you heal, I’m all for it.

Throughout this Hurricane Katrina blog series, I’ve tried to remember the good, the bad and the ugly. I wrote this blog so people don’t forget. Just like journalists that covered 9-11 or the Tennessee floods or the BP oil spill want to bring awareness, so do I. I hope that by reading this blog, you’ve gained a new perspective on the victims, the journalists and the recovery process.

If you feel moved to help but cannot make it out to New Orleans personally, you can always make a monetary donation. I believe in donating to well-established organizations and doing your homework first before giving away your hard-earned money. The Red Cross and The Salvation Army are always accepting donations and if you want to check on a charity before donating, look them up here.

But of course, the best way to give back is to go visit "Nawlins"...grab a coffee at Cafe Du Monde, watch a Saints game at the Superdome or join in on the Mardi Gras fun.