Just a quick note to let y'all know that I won't be blogging for about a month. Got the opportunity to travel recently and I'm taking it!! Shoot, I need a break!
Today, I worked at my house from 8am til 7pm (with a one hour break for lunch) finishing up the gutting. My mom worked from 10am to almost 5pm!! We had to remove nails, remove drywall from the bathroom and other overlooked areas, and even gain access to the attic (an attic fan blocks the entrance). I also spent some time TRYING to connect a downspout to the gutter... alas, no success. I'm pretty sure I need a soldering tool and a smaller pair of metal snips or a hacksaw. Anyway, I returned home exhausted, FILTHY, and in pain. Guess what, y'all? Construction (or deconstruction, in my case) work is HARD!!
So I'm ready for this much needed break. When I return, I'll be diving right back into work... and it'll be even HOTTER.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Getting Ready
June 1st – the first day of hurricane season. And a very active season it’s predicted to be. Are we prepared? Humorously enough, the city launched a huge Hurricane Preparedness Week campaign aimed at the citizens of New Orleans, complete with checklists and everything. However, I’m not sure that the city itself is ready. So, I’ve decided to include my own checklist for our local officials. Let’s review the checklist, shall we?
Well, that’s all I’ve got, but I don’t think we can check that one off, can we? I’m not sure what exactly is going on. Between the local government, the federal government and the Army Corps of Engineers, there appears to be a lot of finger pointing, but unfortunately very little action. This is quite odd, in my humble opinion, seeing that the majority of damage was caused not by the hurricane itself, but by breaches in the various levees. Well, to their credit, $700 MILLION has already been spent on repairing the levees to pre-Katrina standards. But is there any extra to make them better? What magic treasury does this money come from anyway? That is a whole other discussion, but I wonder sometimes how this country can carry a trillion-plus dollar debt that grows each year and then billions of dollars seem to appear out of thin air for various causes. If that is the case, then can we tap the money tree for a few more billion to improve the damn levees?!
I feel like there’s not much I can do. Well, I came out here on faith and will be riding out hurricane season 2007 on faith as well.
Now to the updates:
Lots has transpired since my last entry. (No good news about my bike, except that my seething anger has subsided… for the most part.) First, my volunteer work. As you know, every Thursday, I help rebuild homes with The St. Bernard Project. I’m learning lots as I go along as well… as you’ll see in the following brief photo essay.
A before-ish shot of the laminate floor we laid at Ms. Melanie's house
And now the after-ish shot. Doesn't look like much, but cutting the wood to fit around the edges is hard!
The following Thursday, I laid ceramic tile at Ms. Keyes' house. Hers was the first house I'd worked on when I started volunteering; I helped gut. So it was awe-inspiring to see the progress that had been made since then and to be a part of that. Here's some of the crew practicing during our "training."
I look professional, huh? Want me to tile your floors?
Ms. Keyes' bedroom floor after we finished laying all the whole tiles.
Cutting tile for the edges will happen later.
Next, MOLD. Mold is the bitter enemy of all post-Katrina “pioneers.” Mold is the stealthy villain whose invisible spores attack the lungs and cause all kinds of respiratory problems. Mold is the reason I decided this week to gut the entire house, floor to ceiling, and start anew. Last entry, I mentioned that I was FINALLY 100% finished gutting… the walls four feet from the floor. I thought that was satisfactory since the water had only risen about 3 ft. into the house. Well, I had a mold inspector review my handy work this past week, JUST to be on the safe side. He burst my ignorant-yet-blissful little bubble. Using his fancy-schmancy equipment, he discovered that most of the walls and ceilings still held significant amounts of moisture and enough mold growth to be cause for concern. Yes, it will now cost more to install new drywall, since I have to buy three times as much as I thought I’d have to. And it’ll take more time. But I’m telling myself that it’s cheaper than the potential doctor’s bills, not to mention the inextricable guilt, should my child contract asthma (if we end up living there) because I decided to cut corners.
So, I took a couple people up on their past offers and assembled a group of 8 volunteers to help me tear down the remaining walls and ceilings this weekend. Five guys from The St. Bernard Project came with shovels and brooms. And a friend of mine from NY, who’s here organizing with Malcolm X Grassroots Movement and People’s Hurricane Relief, came and brought another person!! I giggle to myself when I think about the fact that my mom and I have spent the last two months gutting my house four feet from the floor… and these guys came in and ripped out twice as much in a day! AND my uncle Eli (who got a flat on the way to meet me, fixed it and came anyway) repaired the gutters around the perimeter of the house! Many hands make light work, they say. Tis true… tis true. And the ultimate “icing on the cake”- as we said our goodbyes, each group asked ME to call them when I need more help. Thanks to all of you. And INFINITE thanks to my mom, who kept my daughter THE ENTIRE DAY while I worked at the house. Here are some pics of that day (I only have four... couldn't justify playing photographer while these guys worked their asses off on their day off in 90+ degree heat):
Dasaw spent a few hours working in the morning, left for a few and CAME BACK to work until sunset! That's admirable.
Todd and Pat working hard!
Mike, the organizer of the St. Bernard Project group, and Steve cleaning up the floor after they removed tile from the kitchen. Yes, they even did that!!!
Good ole Uncle Eli, repairing my gutters. Thanks!
Last, but definitely not least, I must mention a huge milestone achieved this past week at my mom’s house. We FINALLY got through the seemingly endless piles of file folders, papers, and random paraphernalia. I gave my mom a big high-five when we were all done. LOL. I did. This is a woman who was saving canceled checks from the 80’s! I kid you not. And this is why I am SO proud of her for purging. There was a day when I spent the entire time just feeding old papers to the shredder, while she sorted through each folder. There was SO MUCH STUFF! But now it’s been whittled down to only four boxes that neatly fit in a closet, instead of mounds of crap overtaking a whole room.
We also took up that nasty carpet! And found intact hardwood floors underneath most of it (the side hallway floor had plywood since it was originally a side porch and the floor slanted downwards towards the edge of the house). So I look forward to refinishing those in the next few months, and tiling the other areas… since I have gained that skill now! Anyway, so now the house is ready for volunteers to stay.
And we have our first group coming down at the end of July! I owe it all to my friend Anietra from NY, the powerhouse who never fails to go above and beyond in whatever she does. She told me she was gonna come down to help out earlier this year. In classic Anietra style, she ended up organizing 8 other people to join her! I will write an entry all about them when they come down, but I thought I should mention this wonderful news. And express my gratitude to Anietra and everyone in her group. Now I have to make sure I’ll have enough tools and supplies ready! That’ll be no problem though. Someone told me once, “Just jump… and build the wings on your way down.” It’ll all work out.
BTW, I’ll be going out of town in a few days and won’t be back til mid-July. So, you’ll see my next entry then. :)
- A new and improved levee system that is stronger and higher than the one that breached when Hurricane Katrina hit, flooding 80% of the city and resulting in the worst disaster this country has ever seen.
Well, that’s all I’ve got, but I don’t think we can check that one off, can we? I’m not sure what exactly is going on. Between the local government, the federal government and the Army Corps of Engineers, there appears to be a lot of finger pointing, but unfortunately very little action. This is quite odd, in my humble opinion, seeing that the majority of damage was caused not by the hurricane itself, but by breaches in the various levees. Well, to their credit, $700 MILLION has already been spent on repairing the levees to pre-Katrina standards. But is there any extra to make them better? What magic treasury does this money come from anyway? That is a whole other discussion, but I wonder sometimes how this country can carry a trillion-plus dollar debt that grows each year and then billions of dollars seem to appear out of thin air for various causes. If that is the case, then can we tap the money tree for a few more billion to improve the damn levees?!
I feel like there’s not much I can do. Well, I came out here on faith and will be riding out hurricane season 2007 on faith as well.
Now to the updates:
Lots has transpired since my last entry. (No good news about my bike, except that my seething anger has subsided… for the most part.) First, my volunteer work. As you know, every Thursday, I help rebuild homes with The St. Bernard Project. I’m learning lots as I go along as well… as you’ll see in the following brief photo essay.
A before-ish shot of the laminate floor we laid at Ms. Melanie's house
And now the after-ish shot. Doesn't look like much, but cutting the wood to fit around the edges is hard!
The following Thursday, I laid ceramic tile at Ms. Keyes' house. Hers was the first house I'd worked on when I started volunteering; I helped gut. So it was awe-inspiring to see the progress that had been made since then and to be a part of that. Here's some of the crew practicing during our "training."
I look professional, huh? Want me to tile your floors?
Ms. Keyes' bedroom floor after we finished laying all the whole tiles.
Cutting tile for the edges will happen later.
Next, MOLD. Mold is the bitter enemy of all post-Katrina “pioneers.” Mold is the stealthy villain whose invisible spores attack the lungs and cause all kinds of respiratory problems. Mold is the reason I decided this week to gut the entire house, floor to ceiling, and start anew. Last entry, I mentioned that I was FINALLY 100% finished gutting… the walls four feet from the floor. I thought that was satisfactory since the water had only risen about 3 ft. into the house. Well, I had a mold inspector review my handy work this past week, JUST to be on the safe side. He burst my ignorant-yet-blissful little bubble. Using his fancy-schmancy equipment, he discovered that most of the walls and ceilings still held significant amounts of moisture and enough mold growth to be cause for concern. Yes, it will now cost more to install new drywall, since I have to buy three times as much as I thought I’d have to. And it’ll take more time. But I’m telling myself that it’s cheaper than the potential doctor’s bills, not to mention the inextricable guilt, should my child contract asthma (if we end up living there) because I decided to cut corners.
So, I took a couple people up on their past offers and assembled a group of 8 volunteers to help me tear down the remaining walls and ceilings this weekend. Five guys from The St. Bernard Project came with shovels and brooms. And a friend of mine from NY, who’s here organizing with Malcolm X Grassroots Movement and People’s Hurricane Relief, came and brought another person!! I giggle to myself when I think about the fact that my mom and I have spent the last two months gutting my house four feet from the floor… and these guys came in and ripped out twice as much in a day! AND my uncle Eli (who got a flat on the way to meet me, fixed it and came anyway) repaired the gutters around the perimeter of the house! Many hands make light work, they say. Tis true… tis true. And the ultimate “icing on the cake”- as we said our goodbyes, each group asked ME to call them when I need more help. Thanks to all of you. And INFINITE thanks to my mom, who kept my daughter THE ENTIRE DAY while I worked at the house. Here are some pics of that day (I only have four... couldn't justify playing photographer while these guys worked their asses off on their day off in 90+ degree heat):
Dasaw spent a few hours working in the morning, left for a few and CAME BACK to work until sunset! That's admirable.
Todd and Pat working hard!
Mike, the organizer of the St. Bernard Project group, and Steve cleaning up the floor after they removed tile from the kitchen. Yes, they even did that!!!
Good ole Uncle Eli, repairing my gutters. Thanks!
Last, but definitely not least, I must mention a huge milestone achieved this past week at my mom’s house. We FINALLY got through the seemingly endless piles of file folders, papers, and random paraphernalia. I gave my mom a big high-five when we were all done. LOL. I did. This is a woman who was saving canceled checks from the 80’s! I kid you not. And this is why I am SO proud of her for purging. There was a day when I spent the entire time just feeding old papers to the shredder, while she sorted through each folder. There was SO MUCH STUFF! But now it’s been whittled down to only four boxes that neatly fit in a closet, instead of mounds of crap overtaking a whole room.
We also took up that nasty carpet! And found intact hardwood floors underneath most of it (the side hallway floor had plywood since it was originally a side porch and the floor slanted downwards towards the edge of the house). So I look forward to refinishing those in the next few months, and tiling the other areas… since I have gained that skill now! Anyway, so now the house is ready for volunteers to stay.
And we have our first group coming down at the end of July! I owe it all to my friend Anietra from NY, the powerhouse who never fails to go above and beyond in whatever she does. She told me she was gonna come down to help out earlier this year. In classic Anietra style, she ended up organizing 8 other people to join her! I will write an entry all about them when they come down, but I thought I should mention this wonderful news. And express my gratitude to Anietra and everyone in her group. Now I have to make sure I’ll have enough tools and supplies ready! That’ll be no problem though. Someone told me once, “Just jump… and build the wings on your way down.” It’ll all work out.
BTW, I’ll be going out of town in a few days and won’t be back til mid-July. So, you’ll see my next entry then. :)
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
#%$^&@!!!!
Okay, this week’s entry was SUPPOSED to be entitled “Battle Scars”… to highlight the “injuries” I’ve sustained thus far. But this morning, I awoke to find that my BIKE WAS STOLEN!! So, as nothing else is really on my mind but the FIERY ANGER burning inside, I shall write about this.
How could this happen? Who could’ve done it? My bike wasn’t on the street begging to be stolen. It wasn’t on display behind a fence, beckoning innocent passerbys with its shiny new handlebars. My beloved bicycle lived in a secured courtyard (with a keyed iron privacy gate) hidden in the back behind the stairs and trees underneath an opaque vinyl cover. I kept it in what I thought was a safe location. There are about 10 other bikes in the courtyard as well, but no one else’s bike was even touched. So I am convinced that whoever took mine KNEW that it was there. And it makes me doubly angry to think that someone who “knows” me - who has seen me riding that bike WITH MY CHILD on the back - would take it! Heartless!
I shouldn’t complain. Overall, things have been going pretty well for me here. Having my bike stolen is definitely not the worst thing that could’ve happened. That thought quelled some of the rage I felt this morning upon seeing a discarded bicycle cover on the ground where my bike used to be. But still… my father bought me that bike when I moved down here. He told me not to worry about the price; to get a quality bicycle that worked for my frame. Because I’m so tall, the bike shop had to special order one that fit. I’d just bought a child seat for it so that my daughter could ride with me. She was so excited to be riding with Mommy. Not only did it have sentimental value, it had become a primary source of transportation. And I PREFERRED riding it to using my mother’s car. Can’t pollute the environment by riding a bike; can’t get caught in a traffic jam on a bike; won’t ever spend $30 filling up a gas tank; PLUS, you get a good workout and you get to SEE more of the city while riding. It’s about a four mile ride from where we live now to my house in the Lower 9th Ward… and I happily rode there and back several times a week. I loved that damn bike.
I have my suspicions. Top on the list – the friendly neighborhood crackhead. Well, I don’t know for sure that he’s a crackhead, but he definitely has some sort of drug problem. My uncle hired him to do some work in the courtyard, so he knew what was back there. Living right down the street from us, he also would’ve known that we left town for the weekend. I haven’t seen him since we’ve been back. Of course none of my other neighbors know anything. My number two suspect is someone that lives in this apartment complex. There are four apartments here, all of which have access to the courtyard. One of the tenants gave me a tip today that seems to point the finger at another tenant. And that tenant told me that he saw the gate open yesterday, but none of the other tenants claim to have left the gate open at any time over the weekend. So who knows. I’m not sure that it’s worth my time playing Clue here. Again, this is not the worst thing that could’ve happened by far. But I’m still PISSED OFF about it. And I feel like I wanna start carrying a bat around just in case I see anybody riding my bike on the street.
[I’m really not a violent person.]
SO, I suppose this could still be about “Battle Scars”… this one being the scar on my heart or my ego or sense of trust or something. I’ll share the other two (physical scars) at another time. But, hopefully, they’ll be healed by then. Some wounds heal faster than others. Sorry for the drama, y’all. And sorry for this post being off subject… but I’m pissed.
I should mention that my house is now 100% gutted and has been mold remediated as of today, thanks to Jeh from Common Ground. Silver lining.
How could this happen? Who could’ve done it? My bike wasn’t on the street begging to be stolen. It wasn’t on display behind a fence, beckoning innocent passerbys with its shiny new handlebars. My beloved bicycle lived in a secured courtyard (with a keyed iron privacy gate) hidden in the back behind the stairs and trees underneath an opaque vinyl cover. I kept it in what I thought was a safe location. There are about 10 other bikes in the courtyard as well, but no one else’s bike was even touched. So I am convinced that whoever took mine KNEW that it was there. And it makes me doubly angry to think that someone who “knows” me - who has seen me riding that bike WITH MY CHILD on the back - would take it! Heartless!
I shouldn’t complain. Overall, things have been going pretty well for me here. Having my bike stolen is definitely not the worst thing that could’ve happened. That thought quelled some of the rage I felt this morning upon seeing a discarded bicycle cover on the ground where my bike used to be. But still… my father bought me that bike when I moved down here. He told me not to worry about the price; to get a quality bicycle that worked for my frame. Because I’m so tall, the bike shop had to special order one that fit. I’d just bought a child seat for it so that my daughter could ride with me. She was so excited to be riding with Mommy. Not only did it have sentimental value, it had become a primary source of transportation. And I PREFERRED riding it to using my mother’s car. Can’t pollute the environment by riding a bike; can’t get caught in a traffic jam on a bike; won’t ever spend $30 filling up a gas tank; PLUS, you get a good workout and you get to SEE more of the city while riding. It’s about a four mile ride from where we live now to my house in the Lower 9th Ward… and I happily rode there and back several times a week. I loved that damn bike.
I have my suspicions. Top on the list – the friendly neighborhood crackhead. Well, I don’t know for sure that he’s a crackhead, but he definitely has some sort of drug problem. My uncle hired him to do some work in the courtyard, so he knew what was back there. Living right down the street from us, he also would’ve known that we left town for the weekend. I haven’t seen him since we’ve been back. Of course none of my other neighbors know anything. My number two suspect is someone that lives in this apartment complex. There are four apartments here, all of which have access to the courtyard. One of the tenants gave me a tip today that seems to point the finger at another tenant. And that tenant told me that he saw the gate open yesterday, but none of the other tenants claim to have left the gate open at any time over the weekend. So who knows. I’m not sure that it’s worth my time playing Clue here. Again, this is not the worst thing that could’ve happened by far. But I’m still PISSED OFF about it. And I feel like I wanna start carrying a bat around just in case I see anybody riding my bike on the street.
[I’m really not a violent person.]
SO, I suppose this could still be about “Battle Scars”… this one being the scar on my heart or my ego or sense of trust or something. I’ll share the other two (physical scars) at another time. But, hopefully, they’ll be healed by then. Some wounds heal faster than others. Sorry for the drama, y’all. And sorry for this post being off subject… but I’m pissed.
I should mention that my house is now 100% gutted and has been mold remediated as of today, thanks to Jeh from Common Ground. Silver lining.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Just Say YES
A couple Wednesdays ago, Green Light New Orleans stopped by my mom’s house to install energy efficient light bulbs. While she was there meeting them, Paulette and I worked at my house. My mother returned a couple hours later, ecstatic – she’d met a journalist who was covering the second anniversary of Hurricane Katrina for the German press. Apparently, Ann the journalist was fascinated with our story - two women rebuilding with their own hands - and wanted to trail us.
I love those chance meetings that blossom into beautiful experiences. Ann turned out to be an angel. Not only warm and committed to spreading the word about New Orleans, but also HELPFUL! One day, she came to the house with the intention of taking some action photos. The first thing she did, however, was ask for a pair of gloves! Ann grabbed a shovel and helped me remove ALL the debris in the shed. What a blessing! Paulette had flown back to NY the day before and my mother’s back is not so good, so it was gonna be just me shoveling. And it had to be done that day (FEMA stopped providing construction debris removal that Tuesday, but failed to notify the public*. Fortunately, since I’d made an appointment that Monday, I was still in the queue.) So I wanted to make sure I got everything out ASAP. It was a LOT of stuff. But we finished in a couple hours! And then, just like clockwork… or magic… or something, the sky opened up and IT POURED, suddenly and intensely. Unreasonable amounts of water fell from the clouds, y’all. I’m talking zero visibility, flooding, traffic accidents, etc. If Ann hadn’t been there to help, I doubt that I would’ve gotten all that debris out before the rain. And then it would’ve been a soggy, heavy mess. Oh, how grateful am I.
* I just read an article in today’s paper saying that FEMA will stop removing construction debris on June 30th. I am confused and will call tomorrow… cuz I now have more debris.
Ann and I shoveling debris into the wheelbarrow
Ann ended up hanging out with us almost every day until her plane took off on Tuesday. My mom and I both told her our stories. We talked about life before and after the hurricane. I told her about my goals for this part of my life in New Orleans. A couple days before her departure, she offered me her car free of charge. She’d bought it during her time here and had been trying, unsuccessfully, to sell it. I guess she thought I’d be a good person to whom she could donate. I thoroughly appreciated the gesture, but I declined the offer, thinking of the added expense and responsibility, not to mention the pollution. Later I mulled over whether or not that was a good decision. I thought of two things: One, people want to be able to bless other people. Turning them away denies them that opportunity and makes them think you don’t need help. The second thing I thought of was something I’d heard a while back I only remember the gist of what this guy said - “Never turn away a gift. You never know what could happen.” He’d been led to bigger and better things with each acceptance.
Needless to say, this got me to thinking. Coincidentally, a few days before, Paulette had suggested that I create a place for PayPal donations on my blog (she'd been getting lots of positive feedback from talking about her New Orleans experience on myspace.com.) Again, I said “No.” This is my email response verbatim:
So, while I was willing to accept help in the form of volunteers, I wasn’t comfortable with accepting monetary or material donations. I was thoroughly conflicted over this issue; I talked to my parents about it; I sat and thought about it a long time.
This is the conclusion to which I’ve come: I am committed to doing my part to revitalize my neighborhood. That is my entire purpose for being here. Merely witnessing the state of the neighborhood (and New Orleans, in general) strengthens my resolve daily. Right now, there is literally NO ONE living on my block. One house across the street was renovated and has been “For Rent” since I moved down here in March. And my next door neighbor periodically works on his property. Besides that, all the houses are basically “lying in state.” I am here to finish my house and create a safe, well-lit presence on my street. I know that other neighbors are waiting to see what everyone else is doing. But what can actually be accomplished if everyone is waiting on everyone else? I am young; I am eager; I am not depressed or suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because of Katrina. I am fresh and ready to work; ready to revitalize. I walked away from a well-paying, comfortable “dream” job in New York and moved to New Orleans with my young daughter. We live in my mother’s one-bedroom apartment; I sleep on the floor, my daughter sleeps on a comfy cot. My dad bought me a bike and that is my main mode of transportation, besides riding in my mom’s car. Mama and I work on either my house or her house every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays, I help my friend Maela with her house. On Thursdays, I volunteer rebuilding homes with The St. Bernard Project. This is not a vacation. I am here to work, to help. For that, I am willing to accept donations. I have decided to Just Say YES.
So, Paulette, I have set up a PayPal account under papucharlie@gmail.com. And I will figure out how to add something to my blog page to allow for PayPal donations.
I love those chance meetings that blossom into beautiful experiences. Ann turned out to be an angel. Not only warm and committed to spreading the word about New Orleans, but also HELPFUL! One day, she came to the house with the intention of taking some action photos. The first thing she did, however, was ask for a pair of gloves! Ann grabbed a shovel and helped me remove ALL the debris in the shed. What a blessing! Paulette had flown back to NY the day before and my mother’s back is not so good, so it was gonna be just me shoveling. And it had to be done that day (FEMA stopped providing construction debris removal that Tuesday, but failed to notify the public*. Fortunately, since I’d made an appointment that Monday, I was still in the queue.) So I wanted to make sure I got everything out ASAP. It was a LOT of stuff. But we finished in a couple hours! And then, just like clockwork… or magic… or something, the sky opened up and IT POURED, suddenly and intensely. Unreasonable amounts of water fell from the clouds, y’all. I’m talking zero visibility, flooding, traffic accidents, etc. If Ann hadn’t been there to help, I doubt that I would’ve gotten all that debris out before the rain. And then it would’ve been a soggy, heavy mess. Oh, how grateful am I.
* I just read an article in today’s paper saying that FEMA will stop removing construction debris on June 30th. I am confused and will call tomorrow… cuz I now have more debris.
Ann and I shoveling debris into the wheelbarrow
Ann ended up hanging out with us almost every day until her plane took off on Tuesday. My mom and I both told her our stories. We talked about life before and after the hurricane. I told her about my goals for this part of my life in New Orleans. A couple days before her departure, she offered me her car free of charge. She’d bought it during her time here and had been trying, unsuccessfully, to sell it. I guess she thought I’d be a good person to whom she could donate. I thoroughly appreciated the gesture, but I declined the offer, thinking of the added expense and responsibility, not to mention the pollution. Later I mulled over whether or not that was a good decision. I thought of two things: One, people want to be able to bless other people. Turning them away denies them that opportunity and makes them think you don’t need help. The second thing I thought of was something I’d heard a while back I only remember the gist of what this guy said - “Never turn away a gift. You never know what could happen.” He’d been led to bigger and better things with each acceptance.
Needless to say, this got me to thinking. Coincidentally, a few days before, Paulette had suggested that I create a place for PayPal donations on my blog (she'd been getting lots of positive feedback from talking about her New Orleans experience on myspace.com.) Again, I said “No.” This is my email response verbatim:
this house is an investment for me. it wasn't my primary residence. i wasn't displaced by the hurricane. i didn't lose my home and all my belongings. i just lost money as a result of the hurricane. i actually was quite lucky; who gets to file such a big claim after having paid for just one year of insurance? granted, i didn't get any money for flood damage, but i think i can make the necessary repairs with what i have.
there are other people who REALLY experienced true loss as a result of the hurricane and the failure of the local and federal govt to protect the city. THEY need more help than i do. i'm young; i'm eager to work and learn; i don't have the emotional attachments to the whole situation that other people have. i don't feel like i was a "victim" of Hurricane Katrina.
so i wouldn't feel right asking people to donate to ME. maybe i could collect donations to support friends and family who really DO need it. or worthy organizations that i know for sure are using the money to help Katrina victims. but outside of that, i think it would be misleading to categorize myself as a Katrina victim and ask for donations when there are SO many people who really do need assistance and are not getting it.
So, while I was willing to accept help in the form of volunteers, I wasn’t comfortable with accepting monetary or material donations. I was thoroughly conflicted over this issue; I talked to my parents about it; I sat and thought about it a long time.
This is the conclusion to which I’ve come: I am committed to doing my part to revitalize my neighborhood. That is my entire purpose for being here. Merely witnessing the state of the neighborhood (and New Orleans, in general) strengthens my resolve daily. Right now, there is literally NO ONE living on my block. One house across the street was renovated and has been “For Rent” since I moved down here in March. And my next door neighbor periodically works on his property. Besides that, all the houses are basically “lying in state.” I am here to finish my house and create a safe, well-lit presence on my street. I know that other neighbors are waiting to see what everyone else is doing. But what can actually be accomplished if everyone is waiting on everyone else? I am young; I am eager; I am not depressed or suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder because of Katrina. I am fresh and ready to work; ready to revitalize. I walked away from a well-paying, comfortable “dream” job in New York and moved to New Orleans with my young daughter. We live in my mother’s one-bedroom apartment; I sleep on the floor, my daughter sleeps on a comfy cot. My dad bought me a bike and that is my main mode of transportation, besides riding in my mom’s car. Mama and I work on either my house or her house every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. On Tuesdays, I help my friend Maela with her house. On Thursdays, I volunteer rebuilding homes with The St. Bernard Project. This is not a vacation. I am here to work, to help. For that, I am willing to accept donations. I have decided to Just Say YES.
So, Paulette, I have set up a PayPal account under papucharlie@gmail.com. And I will figure out how to add something to my blog page to allow for PayPal donations.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
Progress!
Peanut butter and Jelly - who doesn’t love a good PB&J sandwich? Pierre and Jamyla – power couple of the century. And PJ’s!! I love a nice warm pair of pajamas in the winter. Why do I mention these seemingly random things, you ask? I’m just reveling in all the good things that come from the combination of letters P and J. The latest items to add to my list: Peris and Jaye – the couple from Chicago who came down to help me with my house last week. AND NOW Paulette!! Which letter does her surname begin with? You guessed it – J. Good things come in P’s and J’s.
First, let me tell y’all about Peris. This is a man who happened to find my blog online through reading an article in The Oregonian (he does not live in Oregon, by the way) and offered to volunteer while he’s here for Jazz Fest. When he got to my house last Wednesday, he brought his burly self (when tearing things down, it is a true BLESSING to have a large person helping out) AND his lovely wife, Jaye. They arrived ON TIME (another blessing) and ready to work. Jaye and I started with removing the kitchen sink. I’d bought copper pipe cutters to release the sink from the plumbing network. But then I remembered that the pipe thieves had already done this work for me. Thanks, raggedy thieves. I appreciate the gesture. Now I can return the cutter to the store and get my money back. I’ll bet your initials are P.J. too, huh? ANYWAY, next we took out the countertop and cabinets.
Believe it or not, this is PROGRESS.
Then, my mother and Jaye commenced to rip out walls in another room. Peris and I continued with the kitchen; I tore down the east wall, while Peris removed a stubborn wall cabinet. He then single-handedly brought the STOVE to the back shed AND removed all the debris. We got so much work done that day. I’m forever indebted to these people. However, I decided against giving them my first born child, opting to offer them Jazz Fest tickets instead. They had a great time!
Me attacking the kitchen wall with a vengeance.
And then they came back on Monday and did more work! Peris removed the drywall from the kitchen ceiling (there’s BEAUTIFUL tongue and groove wood lining the ceiling beneath the drywall) AND took out about a third of the old linoleum tile and plywood from the kitchen floor.
Peris is my hero!
My mother and Jaye replaced the broken window sash ropes on two of my windows. Old New Orleans houses tend to have sash windows, which operate with a rope and weight mechanism. The rope runs along a pulley at the top of the window frame; the rope is connected to a weight inside the frame, hidden behind the molding. When the window is raised, the weight holds it in place. Without the weight, the window won’t stay up. Four of my windows were in such a state; now only two are… and we’ll take care of those tomorrow!
Too bad I couldn't get a better photo of them at work. Damn you, sunny day.
PJ #2 - Paulette came on Monday also. I will speak of her now. Paulette is a friend of mine from New York. She makes crocheted hats and scarves and embroidered shirts. She’d been reading my blog and decided to come down and help. She showed up at my house about an hour after her plane touched down in New Orleans and began ripping out moldy drywall. Now THAT’S a worker!!! Thank you, Paulette. She’s here for the rest of the week. Today, she rested but tomorrow we’ll be back at the house, gutting the bathroom. I’ll tell you all about that exciting (I’m sure) adventure next week. Anyway, Paulette pulled out the moldy drywall in the front room... with the windows closed since my mom and Jaye were repairing them. Even though she’s from Barbados, the heat still got to her. It’s not THAT hot! Wait until July/August hit. It’s gonna be REALLY hot then.
Paulette - HARD at work!
This week, plumbers do NOT make it on my PJ list. Well, besides the fact that they have no “J” in their title and therefore can’t qualify anyway, PLUMBERS SUCK about as much as electricians do. I’ve been trying to get a plumber over to my house for an estimate. NADA. I’ve made appointments, but no one’s ever shown up. So I still have no pipes. The thieves have them. No, they probably sold them already. So, some other homeowner has them. I will take this opportunity to note that if you are reading this and you are a licensed plumber or electrician, you will make a KILLING down here. It’s unfortunate for people like me to be at the mercy of skilled folks like you, but that is the situation down here. I wish I was a licensed plumber right now. Anyway, I hope y'all have enjoyed reading this week's installment. :)
First, let me tell y’all about Peris. This is a man who happened to find my blog online through reading an article in The Oregonian (he does not live in Oregon, by the way) and offered to volunteer while he’s here for Jazz Fest. When he got to my house last Wednesday, he brought his burly self (when tearing things down, it is a true BLESSING to have a large person helping out) AND his lovely wife, Jaye. They arrived ON TIME (another blessing) and ready to work. Jaye and I started with removing the kitchen sink. I’d bought copper pipe cutters to release the sink from the plumbing network. But then I remembered that the pipe thieves had already done this work for me. Thanks, raggedy thieves. I appreciate the gesture. Now I can return the cutter to the store and get my money back. I’ll bet your initials are P.J. too, huh? ANYWAY, next we took out the countertop and cabinets.
Believe it or not, this is PROGRESS.
Then, my mother and Jaye commenced to rip out walls in another room. Peris and I continued with the kitchen; I tore down the east wall, while Peris removed a stubborn wall cabinet. He then single-handedly brought the STOVE to the back shed AND removed all the debris. We got so much work done that day. I’m forever indebted to these people. However, I decided against giving them my first born child, opting to offer them Jazz Fest tickets instead. They had a great time!
Me attacking the kitchen wall with a vengeance.
And then they came back on Monday and did more work! Peris removed the drywall from the kitchen ceiling (there’s BEAUTIFUL tongue and groove wood lining the ceiling beneath the drywall) AND took out about a third of the old linoleum tile and plywood from the kitchen floor.
Peris is my hero!
My mother and Jaye replaced the broken window sash ropes on two of my windows. Old New Orleans houses tend to have sash windows, which operate with a rope and weight mechanism. The rope runs along a pulley at the top of the window frame; the rope is connected to a weight inside the frame, hidden behind the molding. When the window is raised, the weight holds it in place. Without the weight, the window won’t stay up. Four of my windows were in such a state; now only two are… and we’ll take care of those tomorrow!
Too bad I couldn't get a better photo of them at work. Damn you, sunny day.
PJ #2 - Paulette came on Monday also. I will speak of her now. Paulette is a friend of mine from New York. She makes crocheted hats and scarves and embroidered shirts. She’d been reading my blog and decided to come down and help. She showed up at my house about an hour after her plane touched down in New Orleans and began ripping out moldy drywall. Now THAT’S a worker!!! Thank you, Paulette. She’s here for the rest of the week. Today, she rested but tomorrow we’ll be back at the house, gutting the bathroom. I’ll tell you all about that exciting (I’m sure) adventure next week. Anyway, Paulette pulled out the moldy drywall in the front room... with the windows closed since my mom and Jaye were repairing them. Even though she’s from Barbados, the heat still got to her. It’s not THAT hot! Wait until July/August hit. It’s gonna be REALLY hot then.
Paulette - HARD at work!
This week, plumbers do NOT make it on my PJ list. Well, besides the fact that they have no “J” in their title and therefore can’t qualify anyway, PLUMBERS SUCK about as much as electricians do. I’ve been trying to get a plumber over to my house for an estimate. NADA. I’ve made appointments, but no one’s ever shown up. So I still have no pipes. The thieves have them. No, they probably sold them already. So, some other homeowner has them. I will take this opportunity to note that if you are reading this and you are a licensed plumber or electrician, you will make a KILLING down here. It’s unfortunate for people like me to be at the mercy of skilled folks like you, but that is the situation down here. I wish I was a licensed plumber right now. Anyway, I hope y'all have enjoyed reading this week's installment. :)
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Elbow Grease
I still remember it – I was a young child; my grandmother and I were busy cleaning… perhaps a pot. Well, I’m not sure what it was, but we had to scrub it really hard. I remember my grandmother pausing to remark, “Sister, you gotta put some elbow grease into it.” Naturally, I began looking around for the can of elbow grease. I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t know where it was. My grandmother cracked up laughing when she discovered I didn’t know WHAT it was. She had a hearty contagious laugh with a dash of cackle. When she finally caught her breath, she explained to me that “putting some elbow grease into it” just means that I need to scrub harder. These past few weeks, I’ve been putting a WHOLE LOT of elbow grease into my work and thinking of Grandmaw throughout. So, this blog entry is dedicated to my late grandmother Leoma Sordelet, who passed away on September 9, 2005 - two weeks after Hurricane Katrina.
Ahh… so much has transpired since my last entry. I am WORKING, y’all. Besides my volunteer work at The Green Project (which has now come to an end), I have picked up another volunteer gig with The St. Bernard Project. So, two Thursdays ago, I helped gut the home of an elderly woman who lost her husband and son recently. Before her son passed, he’d been living in her hurricane-damaged house (while she lived in a FEMA trailer in the front yard) and attempting to fix it up. Unfortunately, his lack of knowledge CAUSED more damage than it fixed, so we had to undo all the work he’d done. I learned then that it is NOT okay to install drywall with roofing nails… which is what Mrs. Keys’ son did. Why we had to take out ALL the drywall on account of that, I do not know. But that is what we did. We first had to remove all the junk in the house. That took a couple hours. Then we ripped out the drywall and removed the nails. It was actually very fulfilling work. And knowing that this woman would soon have a home in which to reside was the icing on the cake.
This past Thursday, I helped install drywall (SKILLS!) in another house in St. Bernard Parish. I worked with a group of Indiana high school students who had taken a class trip to help out in New Orleans. A great group of kids, despite their apparent penchant for raunchy music… but I guess that’s what the young people are into these days. I felt so old in that way. But we worked well together and they taught me a thing or two. Lesson: If you’re going to install flooring, leave about a half inch space between the drywall and the floor. Lesson: Wear safety goggles and a face mask when installing insulation… that stuff gets all in your eyes and nose! Lesson: Work gloves are extremely useful.
Here are some photos from that day:
The interior of the house in St. Bernard Parish
Our work crew... guess which one is me.
The balance of my time during the past two weeks has been filled with cleaning out my mom’s house. Almost every day, we’ve scrubbed, dusted, swept, mopped, and purged. Purging is no easy task for a lifelong packrat, but I’m proud of my mama for getting rid of much of her unused stuff. Alas, we are STILL not finished (much to my chagrin… I like to stay on schedule), BUT we are very close. My mom also purchased a nice sofa set at a Going Out Of Business sale. I think she got a good deal. I bought a bed (headboard and footboard). Once we’re done and everything is in its place, it’ll be the PERFECT crash spot for our volunteers. That’ll be my next project – creating some sort of campaign to draw volunteers down here to help us.
And speaking of volunteers, I already have a couple lined up!! One of my New York friends, Paulette, is coming down next week. Too bad she’s coming in between the Jazz Fest weekends… but I know for sure we’ll find some concerts or something entertaining to relax after a hard day’s work. Also, through pure serendipity, a guy from Chicago read the New Orleans article in The Oregonian and emailed me asking if I needed help. YES, I do, Peris. Thank you. So while he’s here for Jazz Fest, he and his wife (and maybe their German friend) will be helping out. I can’t tell y’all how pleased I am.
Yesterday, my mother and I pulled out almost all the moldy drywall in one of the rooms in my house. The entire time I wondered if it REALLY was necessary. Since New Orleans is such a wet environment, there is ALWAYS gonna be mold. It’s just a matter of how much and how sensitive one is to it. My uncle/contractor advised me not to remove the moldy drywall for that reason. I have another uncle who owns rental property here (but is not a contractor) who advised me to remove it at all costs. And a woman who is a mold specialist with a local historic recovery grant program said “Well, it’s really up to you.” Yes, it is. And therein lies the problem. Needless to say, I decided to be on the safe side and take it down. Then at least I know for sure that there’s no mold (for now) in my house. Also, I’m learning more about my house, how it was built and how to repair/maintain it. In order to remove the baseboards, I had to learn how to “de-wire” (not AT ALL a proper technical term) an electric socket. Deconstructing a shoddy built-in closet proved to be a lesson in building; I had to figure out how it was held together in order to take it apart. This is like a fun amusement park ride, y’all! I’m learning so much. Photos below:
We ripped out the drywall four feet from the floor.
The water came three feet into the house.
That's what I call accomplishment!
My mom releasing all her pent-up anger on that unsuspecting moldy drywall.
Today, I went over to Maela’s for yet another lesson. She’s installing beadboard along the lower third of her first floor walls. So I got to use a table saw and a chop saw. Using power tools makes you feel strong!!! I understand why boys are into them (joke). I remember when I bought my first power drill. I just wanted to drill everything. Being able to make something with one’s own hands creates such a feeling of accomplishment. It’s an ego boost; it’s a rush. Anyway, Maela and I had to figure out how to cut the beadboard slats around a window so that they fit together properly AND were flush against the window frame. Sounds easier than it was. Maela’s house is quite old too, and therefore has a lot of… shall we say “character.” So there are no straight lines; the window is not perfectly perpendicular to the floor. We had to improvise. Well, Maela had to improvise. I humbly took the role of the eager assistant, giving “advice” only when I felt it would be extremely useful. But we figured it out and I got to cut some wood! Ain’t nothin better than that, huh?
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Peeling Back The Layers
In my last post, I told you of my imminent plans to destroy the newly discovered mold growth behind my walls. Well, before beginning the process of gutting the whole interior of my house, I wanted to be sure that there really was mold (the dangerous kind) behind the walls and that I absolutely HAD to gut. (Why create more work if it’s unnecessary?) So, a couple days ago, my mom and I went to the house to peel back the layers and find out what lies beneath.
I was nervous about the process of removing the drywall because the house is so old. Why would that matter?, you ask. Well, in old houses (in New Orleans, at least), after a house was framed, long narrow slats of wood would be placed perpendicular to the studs to close in the space. Then plaster would be applied on top of that. In modern construction, there is a space between the outerwall and the inner drywall (usually filled with insulation), so punching a hole in the wall would result in nothing more than… well, a hole in the wall. But in my early 1900’s house, I’d run the risk of breaking the underlying wood if I drove a sledge hammer through the wall. Construction-savvy readers may guffaw at my perhaps baseless fear, but it was my fear nonetheless… and I’d rather err on the side of caution than ruin what is left of my little investment.
So, we went to the house to crack open those walls. Using a utility knife, I cut a rectangle in one of the bedroom walls and my mom gently tapped on the drywall to break it. We then used our hands to pull the broken drywall out. What we found was interesting (if you’re into history). Yes, there was mold growing in black circles on the back of the drywall. But we also found old wallpaper (pink with flower designs). The original owners just slapped wallpaper right on top of the wood. Even more interesting, there was a layer of burlap underneath the wallpaper. Maybe people used to line their walls with burlap for insulation? Certainly not for aesthetic value… maybe for suicidal masochists. I must find out. Also, now that there’s a big hole in the wall, I may be able to determine if my house is actually constructed from barge boards… or if it’s just constructed in the bargeboard style. Curiouser and curiouser…
Anyway, I emailed these pics to my uncle/contractor to find out if I really REALLY need to take the walls out. If I do, that’s fine. It was actually fun. My mom really wants to get back in there and pull some more out. If not, onto the next project!
So, without further ado, I present photos from this latest mini-adventure:
Our initial rectangular hole in the wall
A close up on the mold
Me pulling out drywall with my (gloved) hands
Old wallpaper beneath the drywall
Old moldy burlap beneath the old wallpaper
The layers of wallpaper and burlap... I think it's pretty.
Since we were also waiting for the Insurance Adjuster to arrive (re: my stolen copper pipes… see previous post), we decided to spend some time pulling up the floor in the kitchen. I’d heard that it was labor intensive because of the adhesive underneath the tile, so of course I wanted to see for myself. Well, it wasn’t really difficult at all (we only pulled up about a 2 foot square area). And we found some old linoleum tile. Actually, directly beneath the tile was a layer of plywood. But under that, we found a layer of yellow and green tile, arranged so that the yellow tiles were grouped in the center and framed by these dirty dark green tiles. Hmmm... apparently the original (or pre-previous) owners were into ugly things. (No offense if you like floral pink wallpaper in your bedroom and yellow and green tile in your kitchen.) Under THAT, there were a few squares of an older tile. And then the floor boards. Maybe I am a geek, but I think that’s fascinating. Makes one wonder who owned the house… and what possessed them to make these strange interior decorating decisions.
Here are a couple pics from that experience:
My mother pulling up floor tile
Oh, the many layers
I was nervous about the process of removing the drywall because the house is so old. Why would that matter?, you ask. Well, in old houses (in New Orleans, at least), after a house was framed, long narrow slats of wood would be placed perpendicular to the studs to close in the space. Then plaster would be applied on top of that. In modern construction, there is a space between the outerwall and the inner drywall (usually filled with insulation), so punching a hole in the wall would result in nothing more than… well, a hole in the wall. But in my early 1900’s house, I’d run the risk of breaking the underlying wood if I drove a sledge hammer through the wall. Construction-savvy readers may guffaw at my perhaps baseless fear, but it was my fear nonetheless… and I’d rather err on the side of caution than ruin what is left of my little investment.
So, we went to the house to crack open those walls. Using a utility knife, I cut a rectangle in one of the bedroom walls and my mom gently tapped on the drywall to break it. We then used our hands to pull the broken drywall out. What we found was interesting (if you’re into history). Yes, there was mold growing in black circles on the back of the drywall. But we also found old wallpaper (pink with flower designs). The original owners just slapped wallpaper right on top of the wood. Even more interesting, there was a layer of burlap underneath the wallpaper. Maybe people used to line their walls with burlap for insulation? Certainly not for aesthetic value… maybe for suicidal masochists. I must find out. Also, now that there’s a big hole in the wall, I may be able to determine if my house is actually constructed from barge boards… or if it’s just constructed in the bargeboard style. Curiouser and curiouser…
Anyway, I emailed these pics to my uncle/contractor to find out if I really REALLY need to take the walls out. If I do, that’s fine. It was actually fun. My mom really wants to get back in there and pull some more out. If not, onto the next project!
So, without further ado, I present photos from this latest mini-adventure:
Our initial rectangular hole in the wall
A close up on the mold
Me pulling out drywall with my (gloved) hands
Old wallpaper beneath the drywall
Old moldy burlap beneath the old wallpaper
The layers of wallpaper and burlap... I think it's pretty.
Since we were also waiting for the Insurance Adjuster to arrive (re: my stolen copper pipes… see previous post), we decided to spend some time pulling up the floor in the kitchen. I’d heard that it was labor intensive because of the adhesive underneath the tile, so of course I wanted to see for myself. Well, it wasn’t really difficult at all (we only pulled up about a 2 foot square area). And we found some old linoleum tile. Actually, directly beneath the tile was a layer of plywood. But under that, we found a layer of yellow and green tile, arranged so that the yellow tiles were grouped in the center and framed by these dirty dark green tiles. Hmmm... apparently the original (or pre-previous) owners were into ugly things. (No offense if you like floral pink wallpaper in your bedroom and yellow and green tile in your kitchen.) Under THAT, there were a few squares of an older tile. And then the floor boards. Maybe I am a geek, but I think that’s fascinating. Makes one wonder who owned the house… and what possessed them to make these strange interior decorating decisions.
Here are a couple pics from that experience:
My mother pulling up floor tile
Oh, the many layers
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