Why do bad things happen? It is a question that many of us ask. Perhaps they happen so that we can watch how those around us react.

From pain comes grace. From trial comes triumph. Nowhere has that been more evident than in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. When we look back, we will remember the stories of sadness and anguish. And we will remember the stories of hope that arose out of this time.

We will also remember how we, as photographers, reacted. We will remember the photographers who lost their homes, yet directed their energy toward covering their city and putting out a publication, in whatever format they could, so that hurricane victims could get the information they needed about how to proceed.

On Tuesday, August 29, as headlines throughout the country read that New Orleans had dodged a bullet, the staff of The New Orleans Times-Picayune was watching floodwaters pour into their building.

The Times-Picayune staffers evacuated their newspaper with the clothes on their backs. With the water rising, they piled into delivery trucks and headed west.

Eight photographers stayed in the New Orleans area to cover the story.

For the rest, seven hours of traveling on back roads for a 90 mile trip, three trucks full of people pulled up to the front door of The Advocate in Baton Rouge.

The Baton Rouge staff opened their arms, their office space and even their homes. Then they opened their doors again, to an invasion of traveling journalists who arrived in the city to cover the event, without a single hotel room in the state available.

That was just one example of the generosity and camaraderie that photographers experienced throughout the state.

Back in New Orleans, when the hotel where the AP staffers were staying lost its roof, AP photographer Bill Haber opened his own home, which was flooded but powered by a generator, to several colleagues.

By Wednesday, word had gotten out that the streets were not safe. Photographers had been assaulted, robbed, and threatened. So journalists turned to each other, traveling together for safety.

At one point, nine photographers and reporters from the AP, the Times Picayune, the Advocate and the Houston Chronicle were sharing a car, with 5 inside, 2 on the roof, and 2 hanging onto the sides. We are a competitive bunch. But we are also fiercely loyal. In times such as this, there is really no other option. So as we reflect on Hurricane Katrina, let us take a moment and remember how much we rely on each other.

We are like an extended photojournalistic family. Outside of Louisiana and Mississippi, NPPA members and staff responded to Katrina by providing constantly updated resources for those covering the aftermath.

We vigorously opposed and spoke out against efforts by the federal government to suppress photographic coverage of Katrina's aftermath.

We are connecting photographers who have covered the events with the DART center for journalism and trauma. And NPPA members have been giving freely to fellow photographers affected by the hurricane through the NPPF/NPPA Katrina Fund.

Hurricane Katrina brought more than devastating winds and floods.

She blew in a renewal of the importance of a free media, and the importance of photojournalists who risk everything to put a face on tragedies whose scope can only be explained in pictures.

As the stories of the heroes of Hurricane Katrina emerge, I salute some of my personal heroes from this tragedy, the photojournalists who put their personal needs and problems aside, to bring us the story.

There were many close calls among the photographers who risked their lives to cover this story.

It is our responsibility as fellow photographers to support those among us who themselves were devastated and yet pushed on, against terrible odds, to bring news to the world.