Vol. 2, No. 22
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September 15, 2005
Nevada's Online State News Journal
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CRIMINAL DEFENSE |
COPYWRITING
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TNO Special Report: FEMA And The Hurricane Evacuees
(Editor's Note: Congressional candidate and former Assemblywoman Dawn Gibbons just returned from several days in Houston, Texas, working to help victims of the hurricane Katrina disaster. She spent many hours at Houston's Astrodome where thousands of victims were taken, and this is a first hand report of her first day there. Only first names are being used in her report to prevent any possible embarrassment to the victims already suffering enough.)
Houston…..We Have a Problem: The Houston Affair, A De-briefing
Congressional Candidate Meets FEMA Up Close -- Many Mistakes With Lives In Jeopardy
by Dawn Gibbons
September 9th, Friday morning—We are done with our volunteer training class and now ready to roll up our sleeves and help some folks.
The colossal sports arena is where we headed. This is where all the current inhabitants have enviable seats for an event they would have rather not attended but nevertheless are happy to be there just the same. At first glance, the Houston Astrodome looked like a war zone with the maze of cots and people but compared to the Super Dome in New Orleans this was a place of welcomed relief for the survivors.
The Astrodome was once a popular center for sporting events and down home family entertainment but it was for the most part retired for it offered little beneficial use until now. However, the catastrophic woes resulting from August 28th gave this stadium new purpose. For those 7500 or more survivors in the New Orleans region escaping from the Hurricane Katrina aftermath this was ‘Home Sweet Home’. “What a difference a day makes” had revolutionary new meaning to those men, women, and children suddenly finding themselves not just homeless but jobless, without much means of transportation, no privacy, and minimal ways of communicating with family, friends, or locating lost loved ones. However, for the time being while most still had faith little hope was in sight.
Dawn Gibbons
Hope was the anticipated response ten days prior once the storm came and went as the lower end of New Orleans was flooded. Some had evacuated earlier—others stayed until the winds passed. Those who braved the storm soon found themselves struggling for their very existence as the waters continued to rise. Ones who could walk or swim to safety did. Each had stories to tell and most hold lasting memories of family and friends who were swept away by the deadly currents of Katrina.
One man gave an account of his instant loss of home, all his personal belongings, his place of employment, and the use of his feet. Miller reported to work at the Fairmont Hotel on the eve of Katrina’s wrath. The Fairmont had been his place of employment for over thirty years in the only town he had ever known, New Orleeee--ans. Along with his co-workers, he camped safely on the seventh floor anticipating the worst from the weather report warnings of a possible level five hurricane. Soon, the room and everyone in it were in disarray immersed in unfathomable sounds that will no doubt haunt those that heard them forever. For the most part he was saved from the destructive wind’s force, abrupt waves and rising waters. Had he just remained he may still have his two feet intact. But, higher authorities forced his evacuation. First walking, soon swimming in waters intent on cutting off his every path both feet were shattered, bruised, cut open, and badly infected. Through some magical spirit of perseverance he eventually found higher ground in the accompaniment of likened others on a highway waiting………………
Waiting….was Frank when I first saw him standing in line with thousands of others outside the Houston Reliant Center. I was half miffed because the line seemed endless in the humidity and heat of Houston’s climate. What was unknown was the line awaiting us once inside. Three hours later we were within the first barrier of the shorter line where help was on the way to the tune of $2,000 of ready money. That was the only access to any cash most of the Astrodome residents would have. For those homeless and jobless families that was their only means of survival outside the walls of the Astrodome. They would have to find jobs, buy food, clothing, and obtain some permanent shelter. The latter was Robin’s mission.
Robin, a Las Vegas realtor, was trying to match homes with families. She had been accessing a website known as ‘Craig’s list. People willing to donate a room, an apartment, a mobile home, or a house for the homeless Katrina victims would post their offers on this Internet site in an effort to get families back on their feet and on with their lives. The first couple she helped was in the line behind Frank. Mattie and Mike were brother and sister. Mattie had three children. Mike had four children all with names beginning with ‘M’. We became engaged in conversation and somewhat familiar with one another after nearly three hours of standing in line for the FEMA debit card. Mattie began to panic when she realized that the time was nearly 1:00 p.m. --the deadline for picking up their children from the makeshift day care center in the Reliant Arena. I held Mattie’s place in line while Mattie and Robin went to pick up her children at which point Robin the realtor became Robin the babysitter of seven young children.
Eventually but perhaps not soon enough for her liking Robin was able to get back to her original mission of putting families into instant homes. She placed this family of nine into a beautifully decorated home for three months of rent-free living. David, a young and successful entrepreneur with a heart of gold, presented a fully furnished residence to these complete strangers. Such acts of kindness were seen often during the next few days. Mattie has since called both Robin and me many times in the days that followed overjoyed with a home she claims is absolutely gorgeous in every way. The next day she registered all seven children for school, purchased uniforms for her new job, school clothes and supplies for the children, and groceries with that initial help of her FEMA stipend. Robin heard from her again yesterday. A distant relative from Pennsylvania had come to her further aid with a truck and she was getting it registered at the Houston Department of Public Safety. Mattie, Mike, and their family are young, healthy, and were blessed with some unexpected neighborly good-deeds. They are on their way to creating a new life but not all are as easily adaptable to such drastic changes of their daily routines.
Of Frank--one wonders where he was when the frequent announcements were being made that you must have a FEMA identification number before you could receive the FEMA debit card. After waiting in line for hours this sixty-five year old man was turned away when he finally got to the front. I couldn’t just let him turn around and leave after waiting that long. I had my laptop computer in my backpack and everywhere in sight FEMA was advertising…………….’File your claim on-line’. One expected no less from a government that prides itself on accessibility through technology.
Technology is great except not everyone is fully indoctrinated in that respect. I prided myself on being very adept at accessing information however Frank challenged me in other ways that a mouse’s point and click fail to commonly compute. Frank talked in decimals that hurt my ears. There were times I thought he was crazy because his speech was indiscernible so trying to obtain critical information such as his name, birth date, social security number, and a number of other questions needing answers relating to the reasons that now had him standing in line for a ‘hand-up’ almost made me as certifiably ‘Looney’ as I was convinced he was. After a better part of an hour typing and retyping my discerning interpretation of his numerical existence Frank became overly excited because this time we were one step closer to getting him some of the help he needed but not for long. FEMA’s computer kicked me off to the black hole of cyber space causing me to repeat the entire grueling process over again, and again, and again—yes four times before I relented and called my congressional representative’s office for added assistance. They went step by step through the identical process taken by me and as unbelievable as it may sound experienced the same result. In order to reassure my now fragile ego wounded by my own perceived incompetence the enlisted support of one thought to be most able to access any and all information was sought. Somehow it seemed incredible that even a member of the elite Washington Press Corp was bumped off FEMA’s web site but quite fitting that a leading reporter should be the one to discover on their own such a mishap of total ineptness on the part of our federal government?
Frank suddenly became calmer as a small army tried to assist his efforts of obtaining a FEMA identification number. He seemed accustomed to the bureaucracy of waiting. Needless to say, Frank accompanied by his new found and very frustrated friend along with some other equally confused stragglers we had gathered along the way were defiantly confident as we walked in unison the long distance back to the Astrodome and up four levels to where we then had to wait in another long line just to get a FEMA identification number. Afterward, we went back to the Reliant Center for another couple of hours to wait in the line we had just left a few hours earlier. (Later, I realized that Frank was fine but was traumatized from all that he had seen and went through during the previous ten days. He spoke over and over again of the rising waters—searching for his girlfriend, Vickie, and a friend named Edgar Bow. At one point, he broke down in tears because he had remembered seeing his beloved Vickie floating past. However, in the next sentence he was positive he was going to find her).
Our newest companion was picked up inside the Astrodome and was clueless about anything so as he questioned us on various matters we told him to keep walking and follow closely. We assumed he would need a FEMA identification number too. Dan was even more challenging than Frank because Dan had a severe medical condition. Even though he was only thirty-eight years old he limped around like a 100-year-old. Dan looks like a former football player and many times was very close to falling flat on his face. When we finally made it back to the Reliant Center I requested numerous times for a wheel chair and was told they had all been stolen. After pleading and then begging for some assistance a nice police officer came with a ‘not-so-good wheelchair’ but never the less one Dan could sit in while I continued to hold his place in line.
Most of the people with me had no bank account and those that did had no idea what their checking or savings account numbers were. The people I was trying to help were the kind of folks that fall through the cracks. They had never used a debit card in their entire life. Dan was actually well beyond my help. I immediately took him to the medical center but not before putting his debit card in his right shoe and his four digit identification number in the left one making him swear that no matter what happened he would keep his shoes on at all times even while he slept-- just like Dorothy in “The Wizard of Oz”. I told him in no uncertain terms that he was not to take those awful gray tennis shoes off until fairy godmother came back to rescue him.
Frank was another matter. His cot was neat with his government issued blanket folded neatly on top. His pillow was two rolls of toilet paper. While the Astrodome had plenty of clothing to offer everyone that particular good will gesture seemed to have escaped Frank’s notice even though his cot was located right next to the clothing distribution center. His once yellow shirt was almost brown. His pants were thrashed. He looked like the pied piper. Frank had no clue how to use his debit card so I did everything I was instructed not to do in my 15 minute volunteer training session-----I took him off property to teach him how to use an ATM machine. We went directly to the first ATM machine that could be found. It came as no surprise at least to Frank that the debit card didn’t work but for some strange reason I was shocked beyond all belief and while I do believe God can move mountains the federal government is clearly one difficult mass to budge.
Since we were already off campus I felt compelled to take care of some unfinished business. There was a “Ross’s” department store close by but it was due to close at 10 p.m. We got there about 9:30 p.m. but I had made my intentions perfectly clear that we were going to be locked up and sleeping on cement floors in Ross’s instead of the grand accommodations offered in the Houston Astrodome unless Frank quickly settled on just the right pillow to lay his weary head, a shirt suitable for a man of his stature, and a pair of dress pants long enough to cover those un-matched shoes he had on his feet. At least, he would have some resemblance of what he looked like almost two weeks earlier and maybe someone might just happen to recognize him as their long lost friend or family member.
My day was done but Robin was still busy working. She seemed quite pleased sitting in row 247 with her front row--ring side seats in the infamous Houston Astrodome even though the only thing she was watching was a 4 X 8 inch computer screen. Fully immersed in her continued search for suitable housing for an increasing number of people needing her assistance I was ready for some relief of my own as the clock was fast approaching midnight when she finally looked up and said, “I’m kind of hungry—you want to go eat now?”
And, that was the end of our first day.
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