I can't imagine, or maybe I just don't want to try, what it must have been like. As Hurricane Katrina corkscrewed through the Gulf of Mexico, growing ferocious, eating through mile after mile of sea, vendor of the week Joseph Eldridge toiled in the lower confines of an oilrig off the coast of Louisiana: eggs, bacon, spaghetti, and grilled cheese by the ton, tomato soup by the gallon.
While Katrina was slamming into New Orleans, Eldridge was working as -- of all things -- an oilrig cook. His entire family was shore-side. When news of the disaster began to funnel back to the rig, Eldridge and others made their way home via a company chopper.
He was, relatively speaking, lucky: to his relief, his family had survived the levee breach unscathed. Within a couple weeks of his return, Eldridge could account for all but one -- his oldest, who'd run away from home a year earlier.
"She's dumb, but smart," says Eldridge of his oldest.
The disaster, for all of the grief it may have caused, allowed Eldridge to get in touch with his estranged daughter. As he and his family crisscrossed the U.S. in pursuit of a new beginning, he searched. Myspace, youtube, you name it, Eldridge tried his damnedest. It was fishing in the digital age: and finally, Eldridge netted his daughter.
An old family friend, who'd been informed of Eldridge's search via email, by chance bumped into a guy named Jason in Oklahoma City.
Jason had grown up with Eldridge's daughter; and he is now, nearly three years after running off with her, her husband.
When Eldridge called, his daughter's first words were, "You alive?" And bygones are bygones: she now has plans to visit Seattle in early July.
Her father you can find on the corner of Fourth and Pike.