Growing up in Destrehan, LA, my little suburb has been lucky enough to have never suffered devastation caused by a hurricane. Bounded by levees, there is always a possibility of the water from the Mississippi River rising, but hurricane Katrina and Isaac just missed my town on its path to destruction. I have always had an outsiders perspective on how it feels to loose everything and have to start all over again, but the first time it happened would be the last, especially if I lived on Grand Isle. Located at the mouth of the gulf of Mexico its an ideal spot for a natural disaster. Having direct hits every 7.88 years and affected every 2.68 years since 1877. One day the perfect storm will hit and the island will be under water in an instant. This hits close home to me, because this is where my father grew up and my grandparents, aunt, and uncles still reside to date. All I can say is that it is a very unique community, my grandpaw being a star example. My grandpaw and uncle were among those twenty people to not evacuate for hurricane Katrina. My family can plead and beg with my grandpaw too leave, but he refuses. The only way hes leaving the island is in a casket, and if a hurricane decides to swallow it whole, hes going down too. He’s loyal to his home and could never imagine life any where else. It doesn’t matter how many times he has to rebuild, or how many near death experiences he has to face, hell be sitting on his recliner waiting for it all to be over. I do respect the loyalty he has to his home, but if it were me, the islands fate is to hard to bare. Hopefully, Grand Isle, will still be around for many years to come. This tucked away secret means a lot to people and its roots are too deep into Louisiana’s history.