“We went to sleep the Jetsons and woke up the Flintstones”—Jefferson Parish President Aaron Broussard.

I laughed out loud when I heard Broussard make this observation regarding South Louisiana’s access to technology before and after Hurricane Katrina came to town. How true it is! Case in point: I didn’t hear the comment during a national interview on Fox News or MSNBC, nor did I hear it made during a press conference aired on a local news affiliate. Without television or internet access, I heard it instead over the airwaves of the United Radio Broadcasters of New Orleans—870AM—which had become my lifeline to information during the weeks following the storm. I listened to that broadcast so much throughout the month of September that I can still recite, verbatim, Cleco’s 30-second ad and its message of hope to its customers.

I’ll concede that radio access is a step above the Flintstone’s turntable record played by the beak of a Pterodactyl. But the fact that our means of communication were so abruptly cut off following the hurricane had us all feeling as if we were in the dark ages. Radio news alone seemed downright primitive to those of us who are used to getting our info from hundreds of cable channels, satellite radio streams, Web page news updates and national magazines. Yet, in the wake of the disaster, it became instantly clear that “The Big 870” was all we really needed. Sure, we were cut off from international news, but we heard what was more immediately important: power outage updates, school closing listings, shelter locations and updates from our local government. After a few weeks of nothing but local radio access, I felt truly informed after listening to a straight hour of Deke Bellavia and Garland Robinette. And when the Times Picayune finally reached my driveway, it was downright liberating to read it cover to cover in ten minutes flat, as only the most pertinent local news was printed in those first few weeks.

BK (Before Katrina), I could read each section of the paper, surf the Internet, flip TV channels and follow the news ticker for hours and my information thirst was still not quenched! But was my life more complete at the end of the day knowing which celebrity couple was on the outs or which analyst was weighing in on the real estate bubble? Of course not. And for a short time, I savored the absence of the never-ending barrage of information that is thrown at our face every day. As the days ticked by, I found that my anxiety level rose as the newspaper grew thicker.

It wasn’t until weeks later, as northshore residents began coming home to put their lives back in order, that the lack of available communication technology became enormously frustrating. Many people were still trying to locate loved ones that they had not talked to since before the storm hit.

For them, the frustration became maddening. For those of us lucky enough to have all of our family and friends accounted for, the lack of phone service was merely an inconvenience. The situation forced us to get creative in order to find out information. Our kids had to (gasp!) walk down the block and actually knock on their friends’ doors to come out and play. Unexpected visitors “came calling” daily (just like in the old days!) to see if we were alright. I actually witnessed neighbors in downtown Mandeville sitting on front porch rocking chairs as they watched the sun set across downed power lines.

These things we will surely remember. Just as many of us will remember that September of 2005 was when we first learned to text message. That blessed bit of technology was a lifesaver! While damaged cell towers didn’t allow us to connect with others through a phone call, somehow text messaging was reliable. A week after the storm, I summoned the help of a tech-savvy teen (aren’t they all?) to show me the ropes. Two weeks later, I could send an entire message by text to my husband without even looking down at the phone. (“Im stuck on 190. Where r u?”)

Pretty impressive for Flintstones.