A Flood of Thoughts

Photo: noaa.gov

Eleven years ago, yesterday (August 29, 2005), Hurricane Katrina made landfall and started grinding her way towards New Orleans, LA. For weeks afterwards, Americans were inundated with news of the destruction. During the wall-to-wall media coverage, we all became instant experts on hurricane categorization, FEMA, presidential duties, New Orleans mayoral politics, and school bus deployment.

The recent flooding in Louisiana brings back memories of that flood. But the round-the-clock news coverage is AWOL. News has come, if at all, through Facebook shares. The national media has done relatively little to report the story in any comprehensive and informative way. That’s too bad. These are real people and fellow citizens of ours. Their story needs to be told, and we will benefit by knowing it.

Let’s start with the storm itself. It was quite different from Katrina. Eleven years ago, we were dealing with a Category-5 storm. But the recent rain wasn’t a hurricane, in fact, it never even become a cyclone. With little wind, and no eye of the storm, it was called an “inland tropical depression.” It rained hard, for sure. But that’s not unusual weather for Louisiana.

What made this storm so unusual, was how slowly it moved. It is one thing for a storm to lay down 3 inches a rain per hour. It is quite another for storms like these to linger for two full days. Many reporting station in northern Louisiana recorded more than two feet of rain from August 8-11, one as high as 27 inches.

This was bad enough, but the storm still wasn’t done. In moved slightly west and continued through August 11-13. So as the water began receding at one place, more was being dumped nearby. But, Louisiana is no stranger to heavy rains. And, while this was worse than most, it seemed to weather the storm in decent shape.

What many residents forgot was that these torrents of rain from two adjacent regions would competing for drainage in the selfsame rivers and tributaries. When they met, records were shattered. Many of the rivers in and around Baton Rouge crested five and six feet higher than their previous record.

Baton Rouge, August 13, 2:00 a.m.

Anthony, the fussy baby of Joao and Crystal Casaroti had just fallen asleep in his swing. It looked like his young parents would finally be able to get some sleep. It had been a long week. Then the phone rang. A neighbor was calling. He told them that they needed to evacuate, tonight.

They rushed to look out of the front door, not quite believing the urgency of the call. But there they could plainly see that the street was already covered in water, and it was rising fast. Crystal began gathering milk, diapers, and various baby supplies while Joao busied himself by stashing important documents and computer hard-drives in the attic.

Then the doorbell rang and another neighbor was telling them that they needed to leave -- right now. It had only been 20 minutes since the first phone call, but already by the time they drove the car into the street, the water was knee high. A few more minutes and they would have shared the fate of neighbors. When the water got so high that cars couldn’t drive, those left behind escaped the flood by climbing onto rooftops. There they spent the night awaiting rescue.

Casaroti House (Photo: gofundme.com)

That’s how fast it happened. As days of pouring rain flowed together into the major waterways, it simply backed up like a giant storm sewer. Within a few hours, the water in their home, that doubled as a piano studio, was lapping at the keys of their three grand pianos. These along with most of their belongings are a total loss.

Their story is repeated over and over again across the state. In the hardest hit places, 3 out of every 4 homes were destroyed. Early estimates counted 146,000 flooded homes, plus businesses, schools, and infrastructure. Miraculously, only 13 people have been confirmed dead as a result of the floods. Had it not been for their neighbors’ timely warnings, little Anthony could easily have been swallowed up by the silently rising waters before it ever woke his sleeping parents.

Hurricane Katrina had been tracked for days and every citizen of New Orleans had been warned of its Category-5 strength long before it made its devastating landfall. By contrast, the Louisiana flood seemed to come out of nowhere and sneak up in the middle of the night.

It snuck up on us as well. Most of America has been slow to understand the magnitude of this disaster. This is possibly the first full article you have seen about it.

Enter the Cajun Navy.

About 20,000 stranded people were rescued from their homes and their vehicles by police, firefighters, the Coast Guard, and the Louisiana National Guard. On top of that, at least a thousand more were rescued by volunteer boat-owners who responded to the call on social media.

These good citizens were dubbed “the Cajun Navy.” They organized themselves by cell phone and social media. Coordinating with the emergency crews, they not only gathered the stranded, but also delivered supplies, rescued pets, and ferried people to retrieve heirlooms.

At a time when the news cycle daily highlights examples of man’s inhumanity to man, this story warms our hearts. It reminds us that Americans of all colors and all socio-economic backgrounds still care enough to drop what they’re doing and help each other time of need.

At a time when the ineffectiveness of federal agencies and the self-serving corruption of too many government officials fills us with disgust, this story renews our hope. It reminds us that families, community, and the bonds of humanity are the real social safety net. It is not the government that catches us when communities fail, but visa-versa. It is the community that catches us when government fails.

The cleanup from these floods will require staggering amounts of time, sweat, money and material. But already volunteers are converging from near and far to begin the work. They toil side by side with family, friends, and strangers. And while they rebuild structures, they are also building something far more lasting.

The Louisiana floods are like train wreck unfolding. But they are also something more. They are an opportunity to serve together. They are an opportunity to grieve together. They are an opportunity to rebuild together. It is the togetherness which will build far more than buildings.

In a sense, I envy the people of Louisiana. For while they toil to rebuild homes and businesses, they are participating in the far happier project of building friendships and families. That is a grace and a blessing that we should pray for. They are opportunities to never pass up. Because by them, you receive far more than you give.