The Receiving End: How Katrina Changed A Survivor’s View of Giving

This story is part of a special series commemorating the 20th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. Through the voices of survivors, volunteers, and those who helped with the long-term recovery, we honor the extraordinary resilience of individuals and communities in New Orleans.

For most of his life, Paul Perez had been on the giving end: donating time, offering help, showing up when others needed support. But everything changed after Hurricane Katrina. Forced from his home, unsure of what the future held, he and his family found themselves relying on the kindness of strangers.

That experience left a mark. The simple generosity of people who didn’t know him yet showed up to help, reshaped his understanding of what it means to serve. It inspired him to give back in a new way: through creating connections, through service, and through SBP.

In the final days of August 2005, as warnings about the approaching Category 5 hurricane grew more urgent, Paul made the difficult decision to evacuate his home in St. Bernard Parish, a suburb of New Orleans. With four children—two in college and two still in middle and high school—they left early, first to stop at Baton Rouge, then to hunker down in Houston. They didn’t know it at the time, but those few days would change the course of their lives.

St. Bernard Parish, like much of the surrounding area, was catastrophically flooded. When the levees failed, a wall of water surged in, submerging the parish of 67,000 residents under 12 to 20 feet of floodwater. Entire neighborhoods disappeared beneath the surface. Some areas remained underwater for weeks. Nearly every home in the parish was damaged or destroyed, making St. Bernard one of the hardest-hit communities in the region.

The Power of Kindness

In a Houston hotel room, watching the devastation unfold on the news, Paul and his family felt helpless.

To take their minds off the crisis, they decided to go to a baseball game. As they approached the stadium, a woman came up to Paul and asked if he needed tickets. He said yes, and asked how much. “They’re free,” she told him. When he asked again, still in disbelief, she repeated it: “They’re free.” She handed him six tickets and disappeared into the crowd. One of his sons asked, “Who was that?” Paul didn’t know who she was, but he believed she was an angel. The kindness stayed with him.

Later that night, one of their car’s tires began to give way. The next morning, Paul pulled into a small tire shop. The man behind the counter noticed their Louisiana plates, listened to their story, and said simply, “We’ll take care of you.” He managed to replace the tires at little cost. Then, when the tire shop employee asked Paul for his home phone number, the reality of his destroyed house overwhelmed him, and Paul broke down in tears. After a pause, the man asked softly, “Mr. Perez, how’s your family?”

That simple question floored Paul. “He took me from thinking I had lost everything to realizing I still had everything,” he said.

Back in Baton Rouge, where the city was overwhelmed with Katrina evacuees, Paul witnessed another act of generosity. At his son’s new but temporary school, the principal announced that a group had driven in from New York with 600 backpacks, each filled with school supplies and a handwritten letter of encouragement from one student to another. “We’ve got your back,” one read. “This will get better.”

Those moments changed him. “We had always been on the giving end,” he said. “But being forced onto the receiving end—it’s a beautiful thing. Because you get it. You finally understand how something small can change someone completely.”

From Gratitude to Action

After meeting SBP’s founders and a few volunteers working on clearing homes and starting early rebuilding projects, he wanted to say thank you. The best way he knew how was with food.

He cooked up a turkey gumbo dinner in a local school cafeteria and invited the volunteers who happened to be in town that week. He even put together a short video slideshow to go with the meal—just a simple but heartfelt PowerPoint, titled “The Angels of Katrina,” about the generosity shown to his family. It was a hit.

So he did it again the next month. And the next. For nearly five years, Paul hosted monthly thank-you dinners for SBP volunteers. Friends and neighbors started joining in, bringing mac and cheese, iced tea, salads, and sides. Together, they created a tight-knit community of support.

That first pot of gumbo led to so much more. Paul became one of SBP’s most dedicated ambassadors, volunteering on build sites, raising awareness, and giving back philanthropically.

His family joined in, too. The daughter who was in sixth grade when they evacuated ahead of Katrina now leads SBP’s operations in New Orleans. His other children have also volunteered and supported SBP, continuing the legacy of giving that began with a pot of gumbo.

What Was Lost, and What Endures

The Perez family never returned to their home in St. Bernard Parish. Katrina had destroyed it.

“Surreal” is the word Paul uses to describe the days and months after the hurricane, even though he knows it’s often overused. In this case, it fits.

“You couldn’t wrap your head around it,” he said. “You’d catch yourself thinking, ‘We’ll just get in there, mop it up, we’ll be good.’ But it’s shocking. And then you have to start tearing it all apart. That’s hard. You come across things that meant something, and you realize it’s gone.”

Before Katrina, Paul said he thought giving back was about offering help and hoping it made a difference. “But that’s not all it is,” he said. “Not really. Especially when it’s face-to-face, like SBP does. You breathe life back into people.”