Oracle Online

This was instantly personal. My best friend of over 20 years, Vance Vaucresson, lived in the Big Easy that had suddenly become so difficult. My only thoughts were for Vance, his two-year-old son, his wife Juliečpregnant with their second child, and his 72-year-old mother Geraldine, who had already lost her eldest son, Robert, in 1992, and the family patriarch, Robert “Sonny” Vaucresson in 1998.

I began my panicked search for Vance and his family as the levees broke early Monday morning, about a quarter of a mile from the Vaucresson family home. Just the November before, Vance and his family had been evacuated to relatives in New Iberia, two hours north of the city. I had to hope that they all were safe and together, although I knew that everyone’s homes had been lost. I wondered about the family business of a hundred years, Vaucresson Sausage Company, just one-and-a-half miles from the French Quarter.

Finally, he sent me an e-mail assuring me that they were all together and accounted for in New Iberia. After contacting some of his classmates from college, I learned just how bad things really were for Vance and his family; they lost everything and their homes would remain under about 20 feet of water for almost three weeks.

Every time we were fortunate enough to speak, I would ask him what they needed and how I could help. He would never say anything. I knew I had to do something.

First, I wrote an article for the Oracle about the coverage of the disaster, then along with my classmates in Education Club, organized the first-annual Kuppin for Kids, giving classmates free coffee in exchange for books for schools and libraries in New Orleans. Somehow this still wasn’t enough to keep me from feeling helpless and inadequate in the face of this horrible tragedy. I waited for an opportunity to present itself that would give me a chance to really help.

In February, not long after New Orleans showed it was trying to come back by the continuation of Mardi Gras, the OSLV announced the CSI Spring Break trip to New Orleans, and I knew that this was just the opportunity I had been waiting for. As the plans finalized, we found that I along with 30 classmates, would get to help clear homes as well as see first-hand the extent of the damage and the progress of the relief efforts. Most importantly, I would get to see my dearest friend and know that he was alright.

Under the cover of darkness on March 17, 2006, we arrived in New Orleans and Vance’s was the first face I saw. He would prove to be invaluable to us during the next nine days, not only sharing with us the political, social and economic realities of his city before, during and after Katrina, but his personal story of his family’s remarkable survival. On March 22, we were able to help Vance do something he couldn’t do before-clear his family home of over 36 years. It was the greatest gift I have ever been given. We use the word friend often, but rarely does that friendship get tested by some difficulty or hardship. It was a gift to have such a friendship that has been tested, being able to help my friend when he needed it most.

Vance, thank you for being my friend.