Wed. August 31, 2005 sometime before midnight, Astrodome, Houston.- Some have arrived, but hundreds, thousands more are coming. Evacuees transferred from one stadium to another, but tonight here in Houston, the Astrodome, to many, means only one thing... a promise of hope, a promise, sometime, somehow, things will be getting better. 
No matter that many are still left behind in New Orleans 350 miles away, no matter snipers tried to stop them, no matter hundreds if not thousands are yet to see help, drink a glass of water, or taste a morsel of food. It is Friday today, as I gather my thoughts and strength once again; I’m on my way to the Astrodome to report the latest about the evacuees, to tell their stories.
I just can’t help it... but when you see many of them you just want to just dump our camera, microphone and notepad and get in there and help. As I walk out the door, I hear news of how the Mayor of New Orleans is not asking... he is now begging for troops. Where are they? People are dying not in Iraq… but here just 350 miles from New Orleans where I comfortably take a shower or drive through my local McDonalds yet 15 minutes from my own house I meet my news crew to report on more buses driving into the parking lots of the Astrodome in Houston, Texas. It has been almost a week.
Today for the first time in days, many of those evacuees now in Houston get some rest. Most, if not all of them, a clean glass of water, a shower, a place to sleep, the freedom to come and go. No matter that most have only the shirt on their backs, and not even one dollar in their pockets.
I have seen their faces as they walk in, I see their bodies hunched over and many barely walking… I saw a man today; an officer helped him find a toilet in the media parking lot outside the Astrodome… he couldn’t make the 3 blocks walk… his pants were soaked of urine. They are tired, exhausted, worrisome faces that speak a thousand, a million words, yet many seem to have only one question... What now? Most, if not all, can’t even begin to guess the answer. We can’t even think what next !
“I’m tired, I need a bed, got to put some food in my body. This drive.... just a long drive” one man told a reporter. I later interviewed a mother and child… they made it out. The 17 year old tells me how she wonders where her grandma is… I look over my shoulder, tear run down her mother’s cheeks.. I mean not just a little bit… a flood of tears… I don’t know where she is; I just don’t know.
Today… the doors to the Astrodome have now closed… and thousands still coming.
What now... frankly, as a journalist covering the story, I find it hard to even begin to guess myself. Yet only one thing seems certain, as many of our stories air on television or are printed in papers across the country... calls from viewers or readers keep coming in. Everyone wants to help, to give, to share... it is the human spirit, it is a promise of hope!
Just about the only sure thing evacuees, those left behind and this report can still count on.
