I met a man last night in the hotel. He was staying at a neighboring hotel, but was picking up food for his wife. He told me that this would be his last night in a hotel. The management is taking his room away so they can give it to a power crew coming in to help restore electricity to the New Orleans area. He can’t get into a shelter because they are full. He has no place to go. His home is in the worst hit area of New Orleans, and he knows that everything is gone. His son and daughters, all grown and on their own, have also lost everything. This family, who lived within blocks of each other, is now going to scatter across the country just to survive. His son is moving to Tennessee, and he is moving to Arkansas because they have employers who can move them to other jobs, but they won’t be together anymore. This gentleman could walk down the street to see his grandchildren any time he wanted, but now he will visit only when he finds the time and money to travel.

I have been in a similar situation with my family for several years, but it was a choice that I made, not one forced upon me. I know how difficult it is to travel for hours to see your family, and as I was listening to this man, I felt a sense of loss for my own family.

I talk to my daughter on the phone every day that I am gone, and she has told me what is happening in Charlotte. I know that gasoline is scarce and the lines are long, but we all have a car to put gas into, and a place to drive home to. Many of the people of New Orleans have to walk for miles just to get to a safe shelter. These proud Louisianans are now quickly becoming reluctant Texans, being bussed to Houston, Dallas and San Antonio just to have a floor to sleep on. Those of us who went through Hurricane Hugo in 1989 had a small taste of what these people are going through today, but we got a very small taste.