[Editor’s Note: This is the fifth and final part in the author’s series describing his experiences volunteering on the Gulf Coast in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina 10 years ago last week. Catch-up with the other parts here, here, here, and here].

Looking back, my experiences on the Gulf Coast affirmed many of my conservative beliefs. Things like personal responsibility, the value of the individual, and the effectiveness and efficiency of private organizations and volunteer groups compared to the federal government. FEMA has taken a lot of criticism — some of it is well deserved — but it’s not realistic to expect a huge bureaucracy with its layers of rules and accompanying paperwork to respond quickly to anything. In contrast, volunteer groups can specialize in specific area of disaster relief and work together to minimize overlap and increase efficiency. The Red Cross focuses on shelters and hot meals. ACTS World Relief can provide aid at the disaster site itself. Different church denominations concentrate on specific areas such as collecting supplies, distributing supplies, providing medical assistance, housing, etc. Moreover, volunteers come-in from all over the country. We literally had people from the Florida Keys all the way to Alaska.

Second Amendment rights were also in practice all around us. The news reports of lawlessness and looting motivated many to bring protection with them. Of course, the army and national guard were there, the local sheriff’s department was set up right across the street (had a great relationship with them), and the Florida Highway Patrol had sent up a couple cruisers to provide basic security to our parking lot. Many of us were armed, as well. The drivers who brought two trucks full of donated supplies from Midland, Texas had some very no-nonsense looking .45′s on their hips, and those of us that were there before and after daylight provided our own security.

Far from an “OK Corral” type environment that Piers Morgan would probably expected, we had the politest society in the country at that time. As far as I know, that area never had the looting or violence that was reported elsewhere.

After a couple weeks, things at the relief station were running smoothly and I decided to head back to Tennessee and make sure I still had a business and a family. It was a very strange feeling driving back, knowing that so many people were still in need and living in their front yards. It was also frustrating to go from a news blackout of no electricity and 14-hour work days to a radio filled with news reports that didn’t resemble anything I had witnessed.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. We had several news crews from CNN and others come by our location. I would send them to either Andre or Renee, who invariably would try to show them how people there were surviving and helping themselves. They weren’t interested in that kind of story, and usually didn’t want to get too far off the highway. Renee said their motto seemed to be “If it’s not bad news, it isn’t news.” The racial element of the reports I heard on the radio were irritating. There were zero racial problems where I was. None.  I can’t speak for what happened in New Orleans, but we helped, hugged, and cried with blacks and whites alike. Everyone was in the same situation. Hurricanes don’t know or care what color you are.

After being home about a week, I decided to make one more trip down. Maybe it was survivor’s guilt; maybe I just didn’t like not knowing what was going on. An added bonus was that, this time, I actually knew what was needed. It was definitely not water or clothes. We had so much bottled water, we used pallets of the stuff to make aisle-ways for foot and car traffic. Clothes and shoes were a huge hassle, very hard to sort and distribute. We were the only place that even accepted clothes in that area, and it was a constant battle.

What was in extremely short supply was bleach. It was invaluable in the fight against black mold that was taking over the flooded homes. Finding bottles of bleach in a shipment was like finding gold. We prayed a lot over that one, and there were several miracle cases of bleach that showed up right as we ran out. The other item that was hard to find was pet food. Lots of food donated for people, but no one really thought about all those pets that were now homeless with their owners!

My second trip down was only for another week or so, and it was a relief to see that things were in good hands. I didn’t have as many responsibilities, so I could get out in the community more and check on some of the people I had met. Tents had finally arrived to cover our supplies (after over a month!) and everything seemed to be running smoothly. Some of my original team had already gone, but I was happy to be able to say goodbye to Renee and her group before they headed back to Georgia.

All in all, it was a blessing to be there. I always refer to my time there as the worst thing I have ever seen and the best thing I have ever done. The people I worked with were so tireless and impressive, the people that lived there so unselfish and determined. It’s hard to believe it was ten years ago until I see the younger, skinnier version of me with Bruce (wearing my cowboy hat he finally got from me) and Andre. Good times.

For anyone who would like to see more pictures without my narrative, I’ve put together an album here.