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marathoner452It’s true, listening to people complain about petty stuff is one of the hardest parts of readjusting to being home. It’s no one’s fault though. No one who hasn’t been down there understands what it’s like. It’s impossible. Reading the newspaper and watching the nightly news gives you no perspective as to what it’s like. You have to be out there day after day, realizing that that one house in the middle of the road with a car underneath it was just one of many. It’s the scope of the devastation more than any one street that’s what gets you. It’s realizing that you could drive for days and see nothing but ghost towns where seven months ago there were thriving neighborhoods. That’s what gives you the “Katrina look.” That’s why I didn’t want a private room and why I went out for hurricanes and seafood with all my Red Cross friends every night. You just need to talk about it.
(taken from my journal, evening of Thursday, March 9th)
The “Katrina look” as explained by…
-talking to a guy who stepped on something hard this morning, with a leash. Back in August, it was his dog.
-talking to a daughter and mother back home for the first since the storm, and they were burying the mother’s sister. (Didn’t even want to ask if the death was storm-related.)
-all the wind today, which had to bring back such bad memories for the people living there.
(taken from my journal, Saturday, March 11th)
After dinner broke up, Joe and I wandered around the French Quarter, where we found a musician playing the glass harmonica. It got me to thinking, this is why we’re here, to be part of the ups and downs, the sad times and the celebrations, the rebuilding and the recovery. What scares me, though, is how vulnerable the city still is. One storm, not even a particularly strong one, could knock out what is slowly but surely coming back in neighborhoods like Violet. Already, you have to wonder whether about whether or not those neighborhoods out beyond and including the 9th Ward will or should be rebuilt like before, with them being so vulnerable. But you would have to do something in a position like that. It’s all about hope and rebirth. We’re here to help nurture that growth, to encourage those strong enough to keep going despite the odds.
You don’t do something like this for a city like New Orleans without it becoming like your home.
~
I wrote that two weeks ago and just a week into my deployment and I stand by it. As disaster relief workers we do more than hand out hot meals or give people a cot in shelter where they can sleep. Especially in a disaster of this scale, we provide hope for the future. We help people realize that they don’t have to go through this by themselves, that they’re not the only ones who care about their stories. Like I said before, we kinda got that helping people out thing down pat. And I’m not going to go into specifics here, but if that means we gotta break a few rules to do it, then so be it. I believe in people more than I believe in rules.
(taken from my journal, Monday, March 13th)
I needed a day like today just to be a tourist and relax…we took the streetcar down to the French Quarter and started off with a beignets for breakfast. We toured the Beauregard/Keyes house, and I bough The River Walk and some postcards. We wandered around and eventually made it over to the Courtyard for po-boys for a late lunch, sitting under an umbrella while it rained and cleared out the air. We wandered all over the place, taking pictures of beautiful houses and trelliswork and buying more souvenirs including a box of beignet mix. (Way too good.) Finally, after walking all the way to the residential end of Bourbon Street, we managed to make it back to the hotel via streetcar. What a day. Exactly what we needed after many days straight in the back of an ERV serving people living in the devastated areas of New Orleans East. We got to talk to a lot of survivors today and hear their stories. This city is an amazing place worth saving-the food, the slower pace of life, how friendly everyone is, the architecture, the color, the energy. Mardi Gras 2007 is February 20th. Can’t wait.
~
Sometimes you just need a break. No one can give 100% all the time without burning out. Plus, seeing the positive side of the city was a welcome breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively, after seeing so much devastation every day. You take a break, you come back more energized and ready to serve the wonderful, hardworking people of New Orleans.
(taken from my journal, afternoon of Wednesday, March 15th)
It takes a lot to make me cry, but I had a “Red Cross moment” today when one of our clients told me “You saved my life.” That’s the Red Cross motto after all, isn’t it, “Together, we can save a life.” Because it’s not just me he’s talking to, it’s everyone who’s out there helping. If nothing else, my ERV crewmate who lives down in Plaquemines (ground zero for Katrina) has taught me that the people down here don’t need charity-they need a leg up, assistance, support, hope-but not a handout.
~
I could go on and on. I had tons of those “Red Cross moments,” but two stick out in my mind. The first came at the end of an awesome day riding with one of our mental health people, who really got the clients to open up and tell their stories. Not only that, but we got to stop and watch an alligator being skinned and have a lengthy conversation with an 83-year-old but very alert woman. What got me was the way she described the way people down there support each other and look after each other. All more of the same but very positive stuff that makes you believe in a city that will rebuild and will return.
Then the kicker, more of that graffiti you see all over the houses down there.
“Katrina you won.”
Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. On the same token, though, I could see exactly where that was coming from, and that’s what got me.
Another “Red Cross moment,” on my last day, which was trying in some ways but let’s not get into that. Suffice to say that I put people ahead of rules and don’t get along well with those that swing the other way, or those who cuss me out, especially within earshot of the residents we’re serving. Anyway, just in the three weeks I was out there serving the hardworking residents of St. Bernard’s Parish I had come to see changes. Little things. Things like freshly planted flowers, and newly-mown lawns, and kids riding bikes on warm spring days. I mentioned this to one of the residents when he came up to the window for lunch. Seeing little things like those I mentioned is a sign that people have pride in their neighborhood and that they have time to worry about the details. Here’s what he said to me, the kicker and the antidote to the graffiti that got me so bad just days before.
“Katrina ain’t killin’ nothin’.”
I have so many memories of my three weeks down in New Orleans. Walking down to the French Quarter for beignets at Café du Monde early in the morning before a long days’ work. The shock of my first day in the Lower 9th Ward. Jambalaya and etouffee and gumbo, both served out of a cambro on stifling hot ERV down in St. Bernard’s Parish and at a different local restaurant every night. The Made with Love Café, aka the hippie cafe, where they serve 1000 hot free meals a day and where I got my turquoise skirt in a thrift bin. Handing out frozen popsicles to the college spring breakers out there gutting houses in the heat of the day.
Most importantly, though, I’ll remember every single resident who came up to the ERV to thank us for what we were doing. No, thank you. Thank all of you going through all of this and still having the energy to smile and think of others. I can speak for my fellow volunteers when I say you have given us renewed faith in the power of humanity. If there is one thing that can counter Mother Nature’s power to destroy, it is the power of human nature to rebuild and renew.
(taken from my journal, evening of Thursday, March 9th)
The “Katrina look” as explained by…
-talking to a guy who stepped on something hard this morning, with a leash. Back in August, it was his dog.
-talking to a daughter and mother back home for the first since the storm, and they were burying the mother’s sister. (Didn’t even want to ask if the death was storm-related.)
-all the wind today, which had to bring back such bad memories for the people living there.
(taken from my journal, Saturday, March 11th)
After dinner broke up, Joe and I wandered around the French Quarter, where we found a musician playing the glass harmonica. It got me to thinking, this is why we’re here, to be part of the ups and downs, the sad times and the celebrations, the rebuilding and the recovery. What scares me, though, is how vulnerable the city still is. One storm, not even a particularly strong one, could knock out what is slowly but surely coming back in neighborhoods like Violet. Already, you have to wonder whether about whether or not those neighborhoods out beyond and including the 9th Ward will or should be rebuilt like before, with them being so vulnerable. But you would have to do something in a position like that. It’s all about hope and rebirth. We’re here to help nurture that growth, to encourage those strong enough to keep going despite the odds.
You don’t do something like this for a city like New Orleans without it becoming like your home.
~
I wrote that two weeks ago and just a week into my deployment and I stand by it. As disaster relief workers we do more than hand out hot meals or give people a cot in shelter where they can sleep. Especially in a disaster of this scale, we provide hope for the future. We help people realize that they don’t have to go through this by themselves, that they’re not the only ones who care about their stories. Like I said before, we kinda got that helping people out thing down pat. And I’m not going to go into specifics here, but if that means we gotta break a few rules to do it, then so be it. I believe in people more than I believe in rules.
(taken from my journal, Monday, March 13th)
I needed a day like today just to be a tourist and relax…we took the streetcar down to the French Quarter and started off with a beignets for breakfast. We toured the Beauregard/Keyes house, and I bough The River Walk and some postcards. We wandered around and eventually made it over to the Courtyard for po-boys for a late lunch, sitting under an umbrella while it rained and cleared out the air. We wandered all over the place, taking pictures of beautiful houses and trelliswork and buying more souvenirs including a box of beignet mix. (Way too good.) Finally, after walking all the way to the residential end of Bourbon Street, we managed to make it back to the hotel via streetcar. What a day. Exactly what we needed after many days straight in the back of an ERV serving people living in the devastated areas of New Orleans East. We got to talk to a lot of survivors today and hear their stories. This city is an amazing place worth saving-the food, the slower pace of life, how friendly everyone is, the architecture, the color, the energy. Mardi Gras 2007 is February 20th. Can’t wait.
~
Sometimes you just need a break. No one can give 100% all the time without burning out. Plus, seeing the positive side of the city was a welcome breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively, after seeing so much devastation every day. You take a break, you come back more energized and ready to serve the wonderful, hardworking people of New Orleans.
(taken from my journal, afternoon of Wednesday, March 15th)
It takes a lot to make me cry, but I had a “Red Cross moment” today when one of our clients told me “You saved my life.” That’s the Red Cross motto after all, isn’t it, “Together, we can save a life.” Because it’s not just me he’s talking to, it’s everyone who’s out there helping. If nothing else, my ERV crewmate who lives down in Plaquemines (ground zero for Katrina) has taught me that the people down here don’t need charity-they need a leg up, assistance, support, hope-but not a handout.
~
I could go on and on. I had tons of those “Red Cross moments,” but two stick out in my mind. The first came at the end of an awesome day riding with one of our mental health people, who really got the clients to open up and tell their stories. Not only that, but we got to stop and watch an alligator being skinned and have a lengthy conversation with an 83-year-old but very alert woman. What got me was the way she described the way people down there support each other and look after each other. All more of the same but very positive stuff that makes you believe in a city that will rebuild and will return.
Then the kicker, more of that graffiti you see all over the houses down there.
“Katrina you won.”
Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. On the same token, though, I could see exactly where that was coming from, and that’s what got me.
Another “Red Cross moment,” on my last day, which was trying in some ways but let’s not get into that. Suffice to say that I put people ahead of rules and don’t get along well with those that swing the other way, or those who cuss me out, especially within earshot of the residents we’re serving. Anyway, just in the three weeks I was out there serving the hardworking residents of St. Bernard’s Parish I had come to see changes. Little things. Things like freshly planted flowers, and newly-mown lawns, and kids riding bikes on warm spring days. I mentioned this to one of the residents when he came up to the window for lunch. Seeing little things like those I mentioned is a sign that people have pride in their neighborhood and that they have time to worry about the details. Here’s what he said to me, the kicker and the antidote to the graffiti that got me so bad just days before.
“Katrina ain’t killin’ nothin’.”
I have so many memories of my three weeks down in New Orleans. Walking down to the French Quarter for beignets at Café du Monde early in the morning before a long days’ work. The shock of my first day in the Lower 9th Ward. Jambalaya and etouffee and gumbo, both served out of a cambro on stifling hot ERV down in St. Bernard’s Parish and at a different local restaurant every night. The Made with Love Café, aka the hippie cafe, where they serve 1000 hot free meals a day and where I got my turquoise skirt in a thrift bin. Handing out frozen popsicles to the college spring breakers out there gutting houses in the heat of the day.
Most importantly, though, I’ll remember every single resident who came up to the ERV to thank us for what we were doing. No, thank you. Thank all of you going through all of this and still having the energy to smile and think of others. I can speak for my fellow volunteers when I say you have given us renewed faith in the power of humanity. If there is one thing that can counter Mother Nature’s power to destroy, it is the power of human nature to rebuild and renew.
Here are just a few of the relief organizations I saw hard at work while I was down there. I'm sure there are dozens more and that they would love to have whatever you are able to give, whether that is a few weeks of your time, monetary or in-kind donations, or an encouraging phone call or email or letter.
www.commongroundrelief.org
www.emergencycommunities.org
www.ldr.org
And you know what, if you're not willing or able to volunteer at this point, consider a vacation to New Orleans. There's plenty there that's well on it's way back from Katrina. Eat crawfish etouffee or po-boys at a local restaurant. Go on a plantation house tour or a swamp airboat tour. Spend a day aimlessly wandering the French Quarter and shopping. Have hurricanes at Pat O'Brien's where they were first made then skip down Bourbon Street in the wee hours of the morning. Most importantly, show your support for a city that will come back, and listen to the survivor stories.
~Bethany
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no subject
Date: 2006-03-27 09:32 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-27 10:42 pm (UTC)1. That with the help of wonderful people like you down there, New Orleans will return, stronger than ever, and you'll be a part of history.
2. As I've said before, I'm the luckiest man on earth to have someone as unselfish, passionate, and loving as you. And we're all blessed to know you and be a part of your life.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-27 10:47 pm (UTC)The Common Ground "motto," at least while I was there, was "Solidarity, not Charity." I like that idea, although "solidarity" for me carries too much anarchist connotations to really work -- maybe "Community, not Charity" would get at it better.
no subject
Date: 2006-03-28 01:33 am (UTC)"Community, not Charity" just about sums it up. That's what people down there need.
~Bethany
no subject
Date: 2006-03-28 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-03-28 03:55 pm (UTC)