Student credits text messages for saving sanity

On Thursday, Aug. 25, 20-year-old Cassandra Cutno left her home in New Orleans for Howard University in Washington, D.C. The very next day, her neighborhood, Jefferson Parish, received an emergency evacuation order.
"We are facing a storm that most of us have long feared," said a grim New Orleans Mayor C. Ray Nagin, ordering a mandatory evacuation of the 485,000 residents. Later that day, Cutno received a solemn call from her mother. She was leaving their home for Mississippi; in effect, abandoning everything they had known for years. Cutno's other immediate family members scattered toward Houston, Baton Rouge and Georgia. When the colossal storm hit Saturday with winds of 160 miles per hour, power lines were destroyed, cell phones with 504 area codes went dead and Cutno lost contact with her family. Already distressed by not having a housing assignment and financial aid problems at Howard, Cutno now had to attempt to begin a new school year uncertain of the whereabouts of her family.
"I was trying to put a smile on my face like everything was okay," Cutno said. "I was trying to be like 'It's not that bad,' even though I was watching the news."
But Monday, Aug. 29, brought a ray of hope. Cutno would first learn that she could send and receive text messages on her cell phone. Shortly thereafter, Cutno sent frantic texts to just about all of her family members and friends.
"I was like, 'Mom please call me. I love you. Do you have lights? Do you have food?'" Cutno said.
Cutno reached her dad shortly after the storm hit. He was O.K., but her mother was still missing. Cutno then began to make contact with her cousins, her aunts and uncles. Finally, Monday, she received word from her 18-year-old sister-in-law, TaDasha in a text message, dated Aug. 30 at 8:58 pm:Hey, I'm fine. I'm in Franklyn (Franklinton), La. Have you heard anything from anybody?"

Thirty-six minutes later, Cutno received another text message from her sister: "Dis Dasha. Water is everywhere. I lost my house 'cause da 9th Ward (and) da east Westbnk (Westbank) is gone. Whe is ur mama? Have u heard from any 1?"
More text messages started pouring in-- each one more and more distressing. At 9:58 that evening:

"Me 2 I saw dead bodies, damage, water chest
(high). It look worst n person than on TV. But its gonna b alright."

The next morning, Tuesday, Aug. 31, while Cutno tried to brave class, TaDasha sent another message. This time about the status of Cutno's house. The message was clear and concise:

"Its Underwater....Everything underwater."

Stunned by the reality that her house had probably been destroyed, Cutno ran out of class and began crying. "I will never, ever forget that text message," she said. "When I was getting those messages, it was like a knife going through my heart." Her mind wandered back to her mom, who had not responded to any of the text messages Cutno had sent. How she was doing? What she was doing? She says she always believed her mom was O.K., but couldn't be sure.
"I knew she was okay, but I needed to hear her voice, 'cause you know you need that reassurance," Cutno said. As she sent message after message to her mom, she began to wonder if maybe her mom simply did not know how to send her a message.
"My mom is not like savvy at all with phones or anything," she said. "So, I was like maybe she doesn't know how to use her text messaging."
On Friday, Sept. 2, with a good sense that most of her family was O.K., Cutno would head to campus to deal with housing issues, accidentally leaving her telephone at her friend's house. When she returned that evening, she had received a message dated Sept. 1, at 2:26 p.m. from her mom. The words were run together:

"icannotcallu"

Then she knew her entire immediate family was safe.
Cutno believes text messaging saved her sanity. "What would happen if we didn't have text messaging? How many people would be going out of their minds if we didn't have text messages?" she asked rhetorically. ""This is nothing but God; I really believe that. That can only be a miracle."