Secretary’s Report
By Matt Pecha
It was Thursday morning, August 4th, and Tom Willhite and I where on the steps of the Morial Convention Center in New Orleans. We had snuck outside to enjoy a cigarette. We stood in front of a convention center that makes Cobo Hall look like the auditorium at Dakota High School in comparison. A few blocks away was the Ugly Dogg Saloon, a barbecue joint where the Michigan delegation of the FOP held its caucuses. I don't know where the theme of the restaurant came from, but there were plenty of pictures of dogs (ugly and otherwise) hanging on the walls. I hung one of Dak's trading cards on the wall and it stayed there for at least as many days as we where there, it may still be there.
Several blocks away and on the fringe of French Quarter were our hotel, the Wyndam, which sported a large "W" at the top of the high-rise hotel. The hotel was built on top of a mall comprised of some very high-end retailers. I felt out of place walking through this mall in my jean shorts and tennis shoes. The hotel was on Canal Street, which separated downtown from the French Quarter. Across the street was Harrah's casino (I still cringe thinking of the donation I made there).
The saloon was in the warehouse district. The convention center was several blocks but in view of the Superdome. As we stood there smoking in front of the convention center, we met and talked to a lieutenant from the New Orleans Police Department, a lieutenant who's assignments included the planning for emergency evacuation of the city. Talking about hurricanes and flooding with New Orleans locals was as common a conversation as talking about Emeril's restaurants or Bourbon Street. All the locals talked about it and described off-handedly about how the city was below sea level. I am not exaggerating when I say I truly cannot count how many times I had similar conversations with people from the hotels, local police, employees at bars, and everywhere else. Tom and I talked with that lieutenant as casually as any of us smokers talk with Undersheriff Lagerquist on the “back porch” about trivial issues involving the department. He talked about how they had plans to shift all lanes of the Lake Ponchartrain causeway to only exit the city. He talked about “vertical evacuation”, the city’s plan to house people in the high rise hotels should a hurricane hit the city. As he took a drag from his cigarette it was apparent that the issue was the source of a few of his gray hairs, but neither he nor us could possibly have imagined that just a few weeks later every plan for emergency preparedness he was a part of would fall way short of what was needed.
The spot where Tom and I sought refuge from the convention a month ago to smoke is where the real refugees were fighting for survival. The clean bathrooms of the convention center were flooded with feces. The clean conference rooms littered with debris. The steps we strode upon and waited for a bus to take us to our hotel, where people were left dead. The Ugly Dogg Saloon where I hung Dak’s picture - flooded as nearby warehouses burned out of control. The Wyndam Hotel on Canal Street where we had a view of the Mississippi River and the French Quarter now only sports a view of death and destruction, of floods and fire. The high-end retailers in the mall below flooded, smashed and looted from desperate and lawless survivors. The Superdome that we drove past leaving at the end of the convention “ the place of last resort” for residents of New Orleans. The freeways we drove on to come and go from the convention that towered over much of the city - an island of dry land for people able to swim from their homes, but an island of no shelter, an island without food or water, and an island where the dead could not be buried but rather just pushed aside. We all watch the news and the horrible stories coming out of New Orleans.
For those of us that have been there, recently or before, we see spots of death and desperation where we once casually walked or stopped to have a smoke. Even with the pictures and videos, its hard to imagine just how bad it is. There are several organizations in need of our financial support. The Red Cross is certainly worthy of our donations.
The Grand Lodge of the Fraternal Order of Police has activated their Disaster Relief Committee to offer aid to Law Enforcement Personnel in the disaster area. The charitable entity of the FOP, the Fraternal Order of Police Foundation, is asking for your donations. All donations to the foundation are tax deductible as a charitable donation (501c 3).
We are asking that all contributions be made out in check or money order form and mailed to:
Central Macomb Lodge 187
P.O. Box 36
Mt Clemens, MI 48046
We will then write one check from our lodge as a whole. This way we can keep track of our contributions and also send back receipt to the donor.
We will end this program October 21st, 2005 so please send your donation early. |