We’d been thinking about him for the past few days. Wondering. Hoping. Praying. Kelly Gibson, you see, is New Orleans. A native. All 41 curly-headed, eyes-dancing, smiling years. The only PGA TOUR player to call the Big Easy home. Oh, he took a detour across the border to Texas and Lamar University for a few years, but, that done, he headed back home. To Cajun food, Emeril, Café Du Monde, the people who taught him the game and, of course, to his beloved Saints. To give back to city and build a business that would last beyond his TOUR career. So as we watched Katrina begin to batter his city -- the one known for jazz and Bourbon Street -- we couldn’t help but pray that he and his family had gotten out. That they were safe. Then came the email -- sent to so many of his friends at one point that his internet server cut him off. He and Elizabeth were in a Milwaukee hotel waiting to hear from family and friends still in Louisiana. Or maybe Mississippi. Or maybe Texas. It was tough to keep track. Still is. “We lost contact on Tuesday,’’ he said. Last he knew, Elizabeth’s parents were wandering through Mississippi and Louisiana looking for a hotel. He’s pretty sure they’re in Pineville, La. Or on their way to Houston. His parents? “They’re oldtimers from Algiers (in Orleans Parish, just off the west bank of the Mississippi River),’’ he said. “They wanted to ride it out. My mom is 73 and said she could swim out.’’ Instead, he convinced them to head to Baton Rouge where his brother Keith is a radiologist. A tree fell on Keith’s house though, knocking out the electricity and he’s been non-stop on-call since the hurricane hit. Two other brothers are somewhere in Louisiana -- one he heard was on the second floor of an apartment building -- but he knows they’re safe. And lucky. Very lucky. Kelly and Elizabeth are exhausted. It took her 9½ hours Sunday to drive to Opelousas, La., with a friend. There, she rented a car, drove to Houston and flew to Milwaukee to join Kelly, who had withdrawn from the Cleveland Open Presented by Legend Financial with a back injury and was set to play in Skip Kendall’s Monday pro-am. Since then, they’ve watched cable non-stop in their hotel room, getting word from friends and neighbors via email and text messages. And reading the websites and blogs of those who lost everything. “(Watching cable news is) all we’ve been doing,’’ he said. "Everyone’s putting their spin on it. They’re saying we’ll rebuild. But there’s more to the story.’’ Their lives -- and those of millions more along the Gulf Coast -- have changed forever. Their home -- in a mid-rise in the warehouse district -- is intact. No standing water, just chaos. People sitting on bridges. Bodies floating. Thugs toting rifles as they break into homes and steal what isn’t nailed down. “I have friends who have lost everything,’’ he said. “Businessmen. Working class people. They were living the American dream and it disappeared in 24 hours. They have nothing to go back to – no homes, no jobs.’’ Kelly has talked with neighbors still there who told him they kept gangs who were scoping out their building at bay by pointing guns at them. Another friend emailed him that they borrowed someone’s SUV, loaded it up with “five people, six cats and an 80-pound dog," tied down things on the top and when they drove into the street, they were confronted by six thugs. “They had guns in their laps and were able to chase (the looters) away and get out,’’ Gibson said. “They’re safe in Opelousas.” Their homes -- once they get to them in two or three or four months -- may not be. He wonders openly -- as have so many -- why things aren’t more organized in New Orleans? Why can’t they can’t drop pallets of food and water to the refugees? Why can’t they bring in a cruise ship and load them up? Or bring supplies on tugboats and barges? Why not bring an aircraft carrier in to expedite the evacuation? Where are the military and National Guard and police to help a police department that hasn’t slept in days? “I don’t mean to sound like a politician...,’’ he said. But. Thanks to a land line in their building, Gibson has heard of shots fired a helicopter that was trying to evacuate pediatric patients. And of a police officer who lives in the Gibson’s building who hasn’t slept or talked to his family since they left. Of the violence that’s been going on for days, but is just now being reported. Of the buses the Hilton officials loaded in the middle of the night to evacuate guests because they were afraid of the rampant crime. There are no words to describe how the Gibsons feel. He gets choked up talking about their parents, what they may -- or may not find -- when they return. About the utter devastation of their city and how long it will take to rebuild it -- in some fashion. About their friends -- both those they haven’t heard from and those offering help. Gibson is luckier than some. He has investments, can still play golf on the PGA TOUR and Nationwide Tour and there’s Q-School in his future. And a number of friends, including Tom Lehman, have offered the Gibsons a home until they can get back to theirs. “I’ve told Elizabeth we can live like I’m on a 13-week road trip -- I’ve done that when I was a bachelor,’’ he said. “We just won’t be able to go home and get clothes." Right now, things are up in the air. They haven’t talked about where they’ll get their mail or shop or even whether Gibson will play in next week’s Nationwide Tour event if he gets in as an alternate. “I don’t know if I’m going to be in any state to play,’’ he said. “I’ll be ok. It’s my friends and others I worry about.’’ An orthodontist friend of his has headed to Florida to start over. His home and practice are gone and no one will be needing him in New Orleans for a year. Maybe more. Gibson also pointed to the golf pros whose courses are underwater and whose careers will have to continue elsewhere. “Rebuilding golf courses isn’t going to be on anyone’s mind,’’ he said. One local pro emailed Gibson and asked if he needed a caddie. He needed a job. Another friend who just opened a gym might morph into a trainer. In all, he went through 109 e-mails. And that was just Thursday morning. Gibson was 5 years old when Camille devastated the same area in 1969. “I remember sitting on my dad’s lap and feeling a noise and a wind I’d never heard before,’’ he said. This was worse. Much worse. The powers that be didn’t think the levees would break and flood the city. They didn’t realize how many would die. Or how many would turn to reckless looting and theft. No one could foresee such utter devastation. “It breaks my heart when you see how total it is -- how massive,’’ he said. “The feeling? It’s beyond helpless. You wake up a lot. We’re both having dreams. You want to throw up.’’
In July, close friend and Navy Seal Jacques Fontan was killed trying to save fellow soldiers in Afghanistan. “He had a week left,’’ Gibson said. “He was going to caddie for me when he got home.’’ Gibson is nothing, if not tough. He lost another close friend -- golfer Tommy Moore -- who died of cancer in 1998. He was just coming into his own when that happened -- he had finished 69th on the money list in 1996 and 92nd in 1997 -- and he’s struggled since. He also started a business in New Orleans that does corporate outings in the city, but that’s now on hold. He’s gregarious, well-connected and convinced his city will rebuild, but perhaps take on a different look. He points to the port, which is the largest in the country, and the oil refineries. Things that make America go. And he wants to be a part of it. So many people have offered help and he’s talked about starting a foundation to help New Orleans businessmen get back on their feet. “I would like to go back in and help,’’ he said. “If it takes me being off TOUR for a year, so be it.’’ He’s not sure where to start. Just like millions of others, Gibson is just beginning to gather his wits and start thinking about the rest of his life. He knows how lucky he is. As he talks, he sees another picture on television of the Superdome. He sighs and remembers the Saints games. The Super Bowl. The French Quarter. “People who’ve come down here appreciate what the city has,’’ he said. “So I hope they remember if you’ve ever had a good time in New Orleans, donate. To some organization.’’ His city -- and the rest of the Gulf Coast -- needs the help. |
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