Oklahoma volunteers man Red Cross shelter

ST. FRANCISVILLE, La. When the Central Oklahoma chapter of the American Red Cross called volunteer David Tedford Saturday to head a strike team to southern Louisiana, it took him all of 30 minutes to pack, hop in the car, and head south from Oklahoma city.

By the time he arrived at West Feliciana High School in St. Francisville, just north of Baton Rouge, about 100 of hurricane Katrina's refugees were waiting outside, blankets and belongings in hand.

The number quickly grew to 300, with many New Orleans residents hauled to the shelter in school buses, because of the city's mandatory evacuation rule in anticipation of one of the worst hurricanes to hit the Gulf Coast region in decades.

Others, like David John DeCuir Sr., caravaned with 26 other relatives in six cars and found the Red Cross shelter along a rural back-road highway by luck. They missed the turn on their way to Houston and under the circumstances, couldn't be happier.

"It's by the grace of God that we got here," DeCuir said. "It's service with a charm, I tell you. People with the Red Cross are friendly and kind. Their etiquette is fantastic. We slept good. The meals are great. I couldn't ask for anything more."

DeCuir, a Vietnam veteran, who wears a pain patch from back surgery, was among many who said they were in good hands. Four Oklahomans, all Red Cross volunteers, opened the Red Cross shelter Sunday morning and worked with the local sheriff's department, school officials and neighbors to make the evacuees as comfortable as possible.

"We have clients out there who know their homes are damaged or destroyed, so they are disheartened," Tedford said. "They just want to go home."

Pummeled by wind and rain

When the shelter opened, a crowd of all ages hunkered down with strangers in the high school gym as hurricane Katrina pummeled their refuge with high winds and rain. The storm tore down the marquee at the middle school across the street and split several tall pine trees.

Inside, a dozen or so clients, as Tedford called them, stood in front of the only television on the gym floor, watching nonstop news and wondering what they would soon face. The gym's perimeter was lined with mattresses and air beds brought in by a local hotel and hospital. Stacked high on a check-in table at the front door were boxed chicken pasta dinners, cereal bars, fruit cups and juice.

Setting up the shelter was hectic, Tedford said. With 25 shelters already filled to capacity in nearby Baton Rouge, and tens of thousands of refugees scattered elsewhere, Tedford said they showed up with a single van filled with supplies and began registering folks.

Stepping in to help was West Feliciana School Superintendent Lloyd Lindsey, and his head custodian of 28 years, Leon Minor, who hasn't left the school since Saturday.

"Whatever I can do, I do it," he said.

On Monday evening, school bus driver Veronica Ulmer volunteered to pop popcorn for the crowd while her daughter Brittnee, a high school senior, grabbed a broom and started cleaning. Other students called and offered to bake brownies and other treats.

Lindsey's son, Tim, a family physician, came to assist any ill refugees. Tedford helped identify them.

"There is a diabetic here," he said, motioning in the crowd. "This lady is on oxygen and a gentleman has cancer over there. Another gentleman is on oxygen over there."

Worried parents sat in bleachers and rocked babies. Some nibbled on food, while others befriended fellow refugees. The only problem, Tedford said, was a brief scuffle among a group of teens.

Several children sat in a circle in the gym's center and bounced a basketball back and forth. Others played with balloons while their parents slept or leaned against poles outside and speculated on what was to come.

"I know our house is flooded. Even with (tropical storm) Cindy, the water rose. It's a flood prone-area, so I know," said Donald Thomas, a New Orleans resident who came to the shelter with his wife, two daughters and a poodle.

Tedford said it was unusual for the Red Cross to respond to a hurricane before it happened. But this one sounded big enough to warrant it.

Shortly after arriving, the Oklahoma volunteers were begging for cots and pillows and thankful for a new community.

"The Red Cross is just tapped out right now," Tedford said, who responded with fellow Oklahomans Jesse and Verna Kirkham of McLoud and Hal Frost, a retiree, who lives east of Harrah.

The foursome planned to spend the next seven to 10 days on hurricane relief.

Tedford said he was struck momentarily when he noticed that everyone even prisoners from Louisiana state penitentiary, were in vehicles heading north while they headed south.

Still, operating on two hours of sleep Monday, he said there's nowhere else he would rather be right now.

Frost also said he is happy to help, especially since he has seen what storms can do and how well communities have responded to Oklahoma's needs.

"I've been around tornadoes all my life," said Frost, who recalled driving through Moore when the May 3, 1999 tornadoes struck. "Everybody needs help, you know."

By Monday evening, the Red Cross headquarters had called Tedford and Frost to move to Baton Rouge, where they will assist with a larger shelter. The shelter in St. Francisville will close today, and refugees will move to Baton Rouge or surrounding areas. Many of them both hope for and dread the migration home. DeCuir said two of his relatives stayed behind and he has been trying to find them. He hopes they ended up in the New Orleans Superdome.

"Boy, I tell you what, that was the toughest decision we had to make," he said of leaving his home behind. The one hour drive to St. Francisville took his family nine hours to make because of traffic.

He looked across the gym at some of his relatives, who were playing cards on the floor, and said, "it brings so much relief to us."