Life University Opens Its Arms and Heart to Katrina Victims

By Guy F. Riekeman, D.C.
President
Life University

Hurricane Katrina’s victims queued up by the thousands on a Life University parking lot in the scorching Georgia sun. Towels draped on their heads, babies clutched to their breasts, doubts spinning in their eyes. They waited quietly to be shuttled to Life’s Sports Health Science Complex to get packets of help, perhaps a little hope.

They found both there. And throughout what Governor Sonny Perdue called to say was a “great humanitarian effort,” our faculty, staff and students found something valuable there as well.

Just before the Labor Day weekend, Life opened its doors to become one of three Red Cross MegaCenters in the greater Atlanta area offering agency services to storm evacuees, the majority bused up from Louisiana. They came from every walk of life, white, black and brown, from middle class business people to stay-at-home moms of modest means. Most had lost everything but the clothes on their backs—homes, vehicles, furnishings, appliances, clothes, jewelry, toys, financial records, family photos. You name it, they no longer had it.

Many bore the still weightier burden of not knowing what happened to their loved ones. No word, only dark silence so many days after the levees broke and they lurched through chest-deep floodwaters swirling with sewage and water moccasins. Some clung for hours on rooftops and overpasses to be plucked up on precariously swinging baskets winched into Coast Guard helicopters. And no word of their loved ones.

Their stories were so gut-ripping the MegaCenter caseworkers themselves needed comforting. Whatever you saw on CNN we heard first-hand here. And then some.   

By the time activity at this MegaCenter began winding down three weeks later, the Red Cross estimated they had helped more than 5,000 families, many with three or four members. Hundreds of community volunteers connected victims with their relatives,  dispensed $2,000 FEMA credit cards, lined up local housing, offered counseling to those with especially raw emotions, got their kids enrolled in Atlanta-area schools, and cheered them up a bit with words and hugs. The victims were given many things, including respect. We saw lots of smiles here, not just tears.

Of course, we also had our own people to worry about. Barbara McClendon, executive secretary to the provost, didn’t know what had happened to her granddaughter. (A few days later the child and her mother were found in a shelter in Arkansas.) Dr. John Downes, director of alumni, began calling chiropractors in the ravaged regions to see how we could help them. (He found more than two dozen who had lost homes, chiropractic offices and possessions.) We had distraught students whose families had been displaced from their Gulf coast homes and prospective students wanting to enroll without their transcripts. We continue to help them all as best we can.

Those tireless volunteers at the MegaCenter included scores from Life, who served food, distributed toys and baby formula, handed out bottled water, transported port-a-potties and, most significantly, rendered free chiropractic care in the clinic and on-site at the MegaCenter.

“We told a section of the world who wouldn’t otherwise be exposed to chiropractic what it’s all about,” said Latashia Taylor, an administrative assistant at Life.

Ms. Taylor, known on campus as Taz, was everywhere, an Energizer Bunny hour after hour, day after day. She passed out food, told faculty and staff what to do—because leadership doesn’t necessarily require titles or degrees, now does it?—and cleaned restrooms for the sheer joy of it. Spotting a little boy barefoot on the blistering asphalt one afternoon, Taz scurried through huge stacks of donated clothes to find shoes his size.

She wasn’t the only one who worked until nearly exhausted. “I have never seen the people at Life come together on one accord like this,” she said. “We had students with finals still taking time to volunteer.”

The support Life University gave the Red Cross proved to be crucial. At another of the Atlanta-area MegaCenters county officials ordered the Red Cross to get out because of the “chaos.” There was no chaos here; the Red Cross described problems as “minimal.” Bob Butler, a Red Cross official in charge of this MegaCenter, said the cooperation from Life and its students was superb. “They contributed both support and morale, an attitude that they were glad to be doing what they were doing.”

Bill Jarr, Life’s vice president of operations and finance, was on the scene most mornings at 5 a.m., often stayed late, then came back on weekends. His grounds crew, security force and IT department aided the Red Cross at every turn, round the clock.

“Let’s face it,” Mr. Jarr said, “We couldn’t have done this a year ago. Then we were focused on our own survival. Now that the accreditation, enrollment and financial crises have passed, we have more resources and a new attitude. Now we can look beyond ourselves. This was about selfless acts.”

And, again, it was about leadership. Life students didn’t wait to be told; when they saw a need they met it. “Let’s get these pallets moved! Come on, everybody!” And it was done.  

Dr. Brian McAulay, Life’s provost, coordinated the internal planning. Key participants met every morning for the first week or so, then twice a week as it became evident everything was under control. “Each day we went over issues like counseling distraught students, the impact on enrollment, organizing volunteers, distributing donations, campus security, handling the media—we tried to think of everything,” Dr. McAulay said.

Early on we held an all-school assembly and quietly outlined what needed to be done. Then we all just went out and did it; do I sound a little proud of our well-oiled machine? Students suddenly began acting like professionals. Hey, I saw it happen. Everybody knew it was time to put personal agendas on hold.

Dr. McAulay’s team created an information center in the middle of the campus to register volunteers and answer questions. Wendy Morrow, who joined Life a few months earlier, manned the booth for long hours every day, giving directions, assigning volunteers and finding out where donations should be dropped off. Her role was intended to be just for the school, but soon she was fielding questions from agencies as well. “I’m just glad to be able to do more than watch on TV,” she said.

And Ms. Morrow was touched by what she saw. “There definitely is a different culture here. My experience going to college and in the business world was not like this. Students, faculty and staff here at Life are more close-knit than other places. This is not just a college but a family.”

And our family, in the face of overwhelming loss, found spiritual gain.

You know, when we think back over our lives, we discover defining moments when circumstances, whether tragic or celebratory, touch us and even change us for the rest of our days. For many at Life University the events of the last few weeks proved to be that. As we fought for the dignity of those kicked to the curb by that bully Katrina, we saw within ourselves more compassion and courage than we knew we had.

Surely, Life University is a different place from a year ago. Life University is strong again.