Though it isn’t related to corporate law, in light of the hurricane I thought that I would share my Katrina experience today, and also why I am proud to be a Cajun. I am from Lafayette, LA, 90 miles from New Orleans, and during the week of Katrina I happened to be home for a short vacation before school started.

Hurricanes are a way of life for us. I’ve been through nearly two dozen. When I lived in New Orleans I rode out two of them for which no evacuation recommendation had been issued (note, I left during one in which the Mayor recommended evacuation, and I would have NEVER considered staying during one, like Gustav or Katrina, for which a mandatory evacuation was issued.)

At first, everything looked fine. By Tuesday morning, we thought that the worst was over. And then the levees broke to a torrent of disaster. No one could have expected what followed.

Lafayette opened up our basketball stadium, the Cajundome, as an evacuation shelter that within a few days would fill to nearly 10,000 people. I called up Steve, my oldest friend from home. We went by Wal-Mart to pick up all the pillows we could get our hands on and head down there.

As we walked into the Cajundome, we saw that there were a few hundred people spaced out in the arena, sleeping on the concrete. The Red Cross Coordinator was already overwhelmed. We asked her where to leave donations and she walked us to a storage room. I felt proud as I looked at these 20 feet high piles of clothes, pillows, and kids toys that had been dropped off at the drive-through donation window.

The coordinator asked:

“Are you good with people?”

Steve and I fancy ourselves future Louisiana politicians, so of course we said “Sure.”

“Then you can sit at the entrance and get the new evacuees situated.”

“But what do we do.”

“Show them to the floor, tell them pillows are on the way, and sign them up for the Red Cross list in case their relatives call. If anybody threatens you, call for the state trooper. Good Luck.” Then she frowned as she added, “By the way, my name is Katrina.”

Before we knew it, there we were for the next three days, trying to use a joke or a smile to keep spirits up as we welcomed new evacuees. Sometimes it worked, sometimes all we really had to offer was a hug. They came by bus, before that by boat (hundreds of weekend fishermen became heroes overnight) or by Coast Guard airlift. Some of them were literally taken from axe holes in their attics.

One woman told us about how, on the bus ride over, she received a call from her grandmother in her attic as water was coming up to her chin. I didn’t know quite what to say. People wanted to know how their relatives were, I barely believed the words coming out of my mouth as I would lie that “I'm sure they're fine.”

At the height of it, when we would go in to the main floor to bring pillows, we would need to be escorted by armed guard. But, eventually, the shock of these events mellowed, and everyone settled in. And now, we became the caretakers of 10,000 new residents who had nothing to do all day. I won't dwell on the negative challenges that followed, but the city got through it, and the evacuees all moved on to rebuild their lives with time.

But, I also have a fun story to share. On my last day there, I got together with some old friends who work at Halliburton, a crew of crusty old Cajun guys who frequently cook for oilfield workers. We borrowed some pots, burners, tents and such from their company and went down to the Cajundome. Everybody put up at the store, and the twenty of us cooked Jambalaya for 5,000 people. It was like tailgating another LSU game. We just cooked all day, drank beer, told jokes, and talked Louisiana politics. I fancy myself a Cajun chef, but a day with these guys and I realized that I haven't even been born yet. After half a case of beer, they were calculating cooking measurements in their head like accountants. We joked around while stirring meat with a canoe paddle, the zydeco music blaring. I'm glad they let me tag along.

It was a unique experience for everyone. We learned that Louisiana can depend on the generosity of neighbors, both close to home and around the country. And that made me feel proud to be Cajun.

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