Second Line Rescue: Improvised Responses to Katrina and Rita

Dear Lynda: Man Helping Man

34 Editors’ Note: Jacques François Ancelet, son of coauthor Barry Jean Ancelet , was a first-year student at the Louisiana State University Medical School in New Orleans when Katrina hit the coast. He and his brother Jean, also a first-year medical school student, evacuated to the home of their parents, along with a dozen of their classmates from various parts of the country. When they saw the announcement the morning after that help was needed in New Orleans, they all began to improvise what they would do. When author and cartoonist Lynda Barry, a family friend, heard about the students’ efforts, she sent a contribution to help support them. François’s thank you note to her articulated and illuminated what they had encountered firsthand. Dear Lynda, I want to thank you for your support of the relief efforts here in Lafayette. As you know, Jean and I have been working long days between here at home and in New Orleans. While entertaining my fellow classmates and FRANÇOIS ANCELET Dear Lynda Man Helping Man Dear Lynda: Man Helping Man 35 evacuees well away from the danger in Lafayette the night of the hurricane , I heard a passer by mention that they needed boats in New Orleans. Unlike the response of the public officials, the response of the medical school classes of 2008 and 2009 was swift and forceful. I called a friend and had him prepare the boat while another friend and I gathered emergency supplies well into the night. By early morning, we had relief efforts waiting at every major shelter in the area and a couple boats on the way to New Orleans. As Marshall and I arrived in New Orleans, we came face to face with a very powerful sight. Any lack of motivation, any lack of energy dissolved immediately. We saw at least 500 soaking wet evacuees lining up at buses headed out of the city and one woman was kissing the asphalt on the interstate . After dropping off food and water to these people, we continued down Interstate 10 and met a literal sea of water. After continuous days and nights of working and with better than 400 live extractions, we pulled the boat from the water, making room for another wave of rescue workers. Immediately after we got on the road home, we received an influx of phone calls from friends and classmates calling for help from the shelters. Here we are, first- and second-year medical students actually getting hands on experience and doing things that just last week were years to come. One of the things that I find the most noteworthy about this entire ordeal is the lack of official leadership, support, and financial aid. You can clearly see it in the news but it is even more evident here on the ground. On several occasions while in the boat, I caught myself questioning my presence in the water. The conclusion that I came to was that someone had to be there and that apparently, the other eight boats with me were just as crazy. One thing that I can assure you of is that what happened on the water and in the shelters immediately following the hurricane was in no way an official endeavor. It was quite simply, the finest form of man helping man that I have ever seen. In the people trapped in houses, on cars, and in trees, you could see the purest form of need and in the rescue workers, a dedication to helping them. Not to sound sappy but a crawfish farmer from Kaplan told me that the most tragic aspect of this situation was the indifference of the government in favor of red tape and protocol. He said that his “protocol was to get these people out and I don’t need to ask my daddy for permission.” This started as a letter to thank you for your support and became a description of the situation here. I guess that my disgust in the “official” response, and my pride in the response of ordinary people drive me to want to tell the true story. Maybe I’ll write a book or a really pissed off 36 François Ancelet letter to some big name newspaper. Anyway, your donation is and will be greatly appreciated by all those that it...