Today marks the two-year anniversary of Hurricane Katrina. For me, it's the day this journey began. My city drowned. My family evacuated. My grandmother died (two weeks later). It shook me up, forced me to re-evaluate my existence. Made me to get up off my comfortable ass and LIVE... make sure my life MEANT something.... to me, and to my community. My life took a sharp unexpected turn that resulted in moving back home, something I never thought I'd do. And now I'm here!
A few weeks ago, a journalist-photographer team from the St. Petersburg Times took an interest in my story - the story of a New Orleans native returning post-Katrina after years of living away. To mark the anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, I'd like to share it with you:
Click here to read "The Pull Of New Orleans"
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Falling In Love
I miss my little house. I want to fix her (my house is a “her”).
Because my daughter’s daycare is closed for vacation this week and next, I haven’t been able to work on the house much. I wouldn’t use the word “sad” to describe the way that I felt, but I definitely yearned to be there. I organized some friends to come over and help me with the mudding yesterday (this will be discussed later). I’m pretty sure my heart sang. I think this is how people who really love their jobs must feel. To my memory (albeit dull and often unreliable), I’ve NEVER felt this way about anything that wasn’t a personal relationship.
I’ve never felt this way… (play sappy love song here) It’s like a cute little love story, actually… except instead of a person, it’s an inanimate building. Is that so wrong? Our relationship was strictly business when I began working in March. My goal was simple – to make the house live-able so that I could rent it out (or possibly live there). I was just going to replace what was missing and leave it at that. I wanted to do my part to revitalize the neighborhood. Plus, this experience was going to be a springboard to shoot me in the next life-direction. But the more time I spent with her, the more I grew attached… the more I started to care. I mean, I’ve seen her naked! I know all the intimate details of her frame – I know where her missing boards are, I know what color the old wallpaper was, I know which rooms held the most moisture. I KNOW this house. I know her beauty.
Beyond that, others have joined me in rebuilding. They have supported this relationship. I look at rooms and I see the stories all over again. I remember when Jaye and I crawled under the kitchen cabinets to unfasten the sink; when Peris ripped out the kitchen ceiling. I look at the windows and see my mom diligently repairing the sash mechanism. I laugh about the time and care we took in removing the drywall four feet from the floor… the precise measurements, use of the chalk line, the delicate removal of the wallpaper (cuz I wanted to save it… still do). Paulette helped with that. And then a few weeks later, I discovered that it all needed to come out and volunteers from the St. Bernard Project came over and gutted the house in a day. I wonder what happened to the little puppy who came to visit us that day. Or that touched man who called himself “The Preacher.” I look into the backyard and see Maida, Anietra’s tiny cousin, busting up that concrete like a professional. In the shed, Ann is shoveling debris into the wheelbarrow. There is HISTORY there; I have bonded with this house.
These emotional memories intermingle with thoughts of my life goals. As I dream and brainstorm about the way I want to live, somehow this house shows up as the backdrop before which my life plays out. I’ve already decided that the bedroom should be a pale olive green; my daughter and I will share it, in line with my ideas about attachment parenting. The office will be tangerine orange. I see my daughter’s half of it decked out with all her educational supplies (I’d like to homeschool her). I fantasize that I will buy the lot next door and create a garden for the homeschool group (there will be a group in my fantasy) . Or, even grander, STARTING an alternative school… to be housed in one of the properties on my block. The parents could pool their resources to buy the building right across the street and renovate it! Maybe. But I definitely WILL install a tankless water heater to save water (and money). I see myself locking up the earth-friendliest means of transportation besides walking, my bike ( a new one… an invincible one), in the back shed. And I’ll fix the attic fan and take advantage of the shotgun design to allow air to be drawn through the house; no air-conditioning (we’ll see how long that lasts). I will reduce my carbon footprint just by living simply… in this house. I’ve been thinking about fancy tile patterns for the kitchen and bathroom floors, though reality – lack of money and skill – often suppresses these plans. I’m gonna strip that paint off the front room window (I’m told it’s “Edwardian”) panes and the transoms above my doors. And frame the tongue-and-groove wood ceilings with crown molding. And install concrete countertops in the kitchen; they are durable, can be poured into any shape you want and they’re less expensive than stone.
I’ve crossed the line. I love this house. I want to live in it. More than that, I have been entertaining ideas of one-woman neighborhood revitalization… wondering if I could buy a piece of land and convert it into a community garden; or buy another house, fix it up and resell it at an affordable cost to an owner-occupant. These are likely pipe dreams, as I have no source of income right now. But tis good to dream… at least it keeps me aware of what I want out of life. I daydream of how wonderful this neighborhood could be and my fabulous plans for making that happen. I’ve already got my eyes on the empty lot at the corner for the garden. Lots are way cheaper than houses. We’ll see what happens… I’ll keep y’all posted.
WORK
As I mentioned earlier in the blog, I DID get a chance to steal away and work on my beloved house. Four wonderful people came through to help with mudding yesterday. My good ole uncle Eli, family friend Kwame aka K. Gates, and newly acquired friends Rhonda and Adia, her young daughter. We accomplished SO MUCH. I’ll share that with you via these lovely pics.
Good ole Uncle Eli! When you need him, he's there.
Kwame getting his shiny blue shoes dirty.
Adia, Rhonda's daughter, covering the drywall screws. Super Girl!
And here is what we accomplished:
The front room of the house.
What will be the bedroom. Nice job!
Because my daughter’s daycare is closed for vacation this week and next, I haven’t been able to work on the house much. I wouldn’t use the word “sad” to describe the way that I felt, but I definitely yearned to be there. I organized some friends to come over and help me with the mudding yesterday (this will be discussed later). I’m pretty sure my heart sang. I think this is how people who really love their jobs must feel. To my memory (albeit dull and often unreliable), I’ve NEVER felt this way about anything that wasn’t a personal relationship.
I’ve never felt this way… (play sappy love song here) It’s like a cute little love story, actually… except instead of a person, it’s an inanimate building. Is that so wrong? Our relationship was strictly business when I began working in March. My goal was simple – to make the house live-able so that I could rent it out (or possibly live there). I was just going to replace what was missing and leave it at that. I wanted to do my part to revitalize the neighborhood. Plus, this experience was going to be a springboard to shoot me in the next life-direction. But the more time I spent with her, the more I grew attached… the more I started to care. I mean, I’ve seen her naked! I know all the intimate details of her frame – I know where her missing boards are, I know what color the old wallpaper was, I know which rooms held the most moisture. I KNOW this house. I know her beauty.
Beyond that, others have joined me in rebuilding. They have supported this relationship. I look at rooms and I see the stories all over again. I remember when Jaye and I crawled under the kitchen cabinets to unfasten the sink; when Peris ripped out the kitchen ceiling. I look at the windows and see my mom diligently repairing the sash mechanism. I laugh about the time and care we took in removing the drywall four feet from the floor… the precise measurements, use of the chalk line, the delicate removal of the wallpaper (cuz I wanted to save it… still do). Paulette helped with that. And then a few weeks later, I discovered that it all needed to come out and volunteers from the St. Bernard Project came over and gutted the house in a day. I wonder what happened to the little puppy who came to visit us that day. Or that touched man who called himself “The Preacher.” I look into the backyard and see Maida, Anietra’s tiny cousin, busting up that concrete like a professional. In the shed, Ann is shoveling debris into the wheelbarrow. There is HISTORY there; I have bonded with this house.
These emotional memories intermingle with thoughts of my life goals. As I dream and brainstorm about the way I want to live, somehow this house shows up as the backdrop before which my life plays out. I’ve already decided that the bedroom should be a pale olive green; my daughter and I will share it, in line with my ideas about attachment parenting. The office will be tangerine orange. I see my daughter’s half of it decked out with all her educational supplies (I’d like to homeschool her). I fantasize that I will buy the lot next door and create a garden for the homeschool group (there will be a group in my fantasy) . Or, even grander, STARTING an alternative school… to be housed in one of the properties on my block. The parents could pool their resources to buy the building right across the street and renovate it! Maybe. But I definitely WILL install a tankless water heater to save water (and money). I see myself locking up the earth-friendliest means of transportation besides walking, my bike ( a new one… an invincible one), in the back shed. And I’ll fix the attic fan and take advantage of the shotgun design to allow air to be drawn through the house; no air-conditioning (we’ll see how long that lasts). I will reduce my carbon footprint just by living simply… in this house. I’ve been thinking about fancy tile patterns for the kitchen and bathroom floors, though reality – lack of money and skill – often suppresses these plans. I’m gonna strip that paint off the front room window (I’m told it’s “Edwardian”) panes and the transoms above my doors. And frame the tongue-and-groove wood ceilings with crown molding. And install concrete countertops in the kitchen; they are durable, can be poured into any shape you want and they’re less expensive than stone.
I’ve crossed the line. I love this house. I want to live in it. More than that, I have been entertaining ideas of one-woman neighborhood revitalization… wondering if I could buy a piece of land and convert it into a community garden; or buy another house, fix it up and resell it at an affordable cost to an owner-occupant. These are likely pipe dreams, as I have no source of income right now. But tis good to dream… at least it keeps me aware of what I want out of life. I daydream of how wonderful this neighborhood could be and my fabulous plans for making that happen. I’ve already got my eyes on the empty lot at the corner for the garden. Lots are way cheaper than houses. We’ll see what happens… I’ll keep y’all posted.
WORK
As I mentioned earlier in the blog, I DID get a chance to steal away and work on my beloved house. Four wonderful people came through to help with mudding yesterday. My good ole uncle Eli, family friend Kwame aka K. Gates, and newly acquired friends Rhonda and Adia, her young daughter. We accomplished SO MUCH. I’ll share that with you via these lovely pics.
Good ole Uncle Eli! When you need him, he's there.
Kwame getting his shiny blue shoes dirty.
Adia, Rhonda's daughter, covering the drywall screws. Super Girl!
And here is what we accomplished:
The front room of the house.
What will be the bedroom. Nice job!
Friday, August 10, 2007
Back From THE ROAD
Whoo! Sorry it’s been so long. It just dawned on me that I could’ve written at least a brief update and posted it immediately(I think my readers appreciate those more anyway), instead of taking all this time to write a full entry. After being gone so long, I guess it's taken me awhile to get back to my regular routine. And it’s difficult to write when my daughter is awake PERIOD, and obviously I can’t write when I’m working. But, anyway, I’m back in New Orleans now after 5 weeks of travel. Getting away was refreshing, to say the least, and now I’m energized and refocusing on my beloved little house. Well, that implies that nothing’s been done since I’ve been away. Quite the opposite is true. I must take this opportunity to give a standing ovation to my mom, who not only kept my daughter for 3 of the 5 weeks but worked as my counterpart while I was gone.
ME vs. THE MOLD
In my absence, mold remediation was done on the house, courtesy of Inspector 12. As you may recall from a previous post, I took that company’s advice and removed all the drywall in the house so that they could thoroughly obliterate any mold that might even be THINKING of growing in my house. Originally, they quoted me a little under $2K to do the job. It wasn’t in my budget, but I decided that it was worth the extra expense to be assured that no one who lived in that house would have respiratory problems because of something I neglected to do. So I was prepared to take the hit. A few weeks into my trip, I received this email: “I have decided to remediate your home as a donation because of your tireless effort to restore your property. I am truly impressed to see what you have accomplished…” Thank you, Ivan from Inspector 12!! Unfortunately, it failed the post-inspection.
According to Louisiana law, the remediator and the inspector cannot be the same person/company. So I was going to hire Bill Feaheny, an environmental consultant and professional air quality tester, to do the post-inspection. Upon completing the initial visual inspection, however, he concluded that the remediation company didn’t follow proper protocol for mold removal. He wouldn’t do the air test because none of the holes in the house had been plugged. Additionally, he'd never heard of Inspector 12. Well, I didn’t have time to search for another remediation company, then schedule another inspection. I had a group of volunteers coming the following weekend to help install drywall! So he gave me some suggestions about how to move forward. I am still grateful to Inspector 12 for doing the job. The house was cleanER and the air was clearER after they did the work.
Weekend Warriors
SO, when I first moved down here, my friend Anietra in New York said that she’d come and help out sometime this year. “Great!” I thought. “I can use the help!” In late May, she emailed with plans of assembling a group of friends to volunteer at my house. In a matter of days, she’d gotten ten commitments! I was floored. TEN people flying down to New Orleans OF THEIR OWN VOLITION to help me rebuild my house. I shouldn’t have been surprised; this was classic Anietra style. Anything this woman does, she does to the nth degree.
So now I had ten volunteers coming to stay at my mom’s not-quite-ready house… and I’d just found out I’d be traveling for the next five weeks, up until two days before they were supposed to arrive! Needless to say, it was difficult preparing from afar for a group of this size, but it all worked out and the weekend went surprisingly quite smoothly. My mom was absolutely fabulous; she ordered the drywall and other supplies while I was away, she agreed to cook red beans and rice, and gumbo for the volunteers AND keep my daughter while I worked with them over that weekend. My uncle took care of the drywall delivery (thanks Eli!). I borrowed air mattresses from my cousin, my aunt’s neighbor, and my mom’s friend. And the St. Bernard Project loaned me drills and a bunch of other necessary tools. Man, it's good to have a big family! I got the rest of the supplies from Common Ground. Since my Wednesday flight back to New Orleans ended up being CANCELLED (grrr…), I flew back that Friday (the same day as the volunteers!). But I was still able to make all the necessary last-minute runs before they arrived. I wanted to make them at least semi-comfortable in that house.
I’d prepped Anietra before they came down – there’s no air-conditioning in my mom’s house; there’s very little furniture; some of the floors are unfinished; there’s only one working bathroom; the entire first floor of the house has been gutted and is un-usable; the house hasn’t been lived in since August 2005. They knew it would be FAR from luxury living and they were cool with that. I’d suggested to Anietra that we work short days (9am-2pm) because of the heat and humidity. There is no electricity in my house (translation – no fans… don’t even THINK about air-conditioning) and it was the end of July, one of the hottest months of the year. They all insisted on working ALL day. I patronizingly entertained that notion, thinking, “Wait til they get down here.”
Well, when they got down here, they hit the ground running. The day their plane touched down; they wanted to go check out my house and maybe get some work done! We spent the evening moving drywall from the driveway into the house, racing against the approaching storm. We made it, thank goodness. The following day was Saturday; we got a brief drywall demo from some skilled volunteers from St. Bernard Project.
Richard assists while Dave and Mike demo drywall installation.
The rest of us pay close attention.
Since I’d only put up drywall once or twice, I thought it would be better for a more experienced person to supervise. [Good thing because a few issues arose that I wouldn’t have been able to handle alone. The biggest issue was the un-evenness of the vertical barge boards and that fact that many were missing in the front room of the house. So we learned how to use shims to level the drywall, and how to reinforce existing beams with two-by-fours and drill the drywall to that. So handy!] And we actually did work all day Saturday AND Sunday… until the sun went down and we couldn’t see anymore. But it didn't feel like slavery at all!!(That was a joke... anyway..) By the end of the weekend, most of the house's interior had drywall.
They came, they saw, they installed.
A wall in the second room. DONE. After they were done, most of the walls looked just like this. PERFECT!
Our mascot insisted that I include him.
It's amazing what 10 volunteers can do in a weekend, isn't it? Sike! This ain't my house, y'all!
As much as we worked, you wouldn’t think there was time to do anything else. But the group also wanted to get out and see New Orleans. They had a ball… live music at The Spotted Cat on Frenchmen Street, dancing on Bourbon Street, beignets (apparently, "nothing but a zeppoli" according to some people) at Café Du Monde, and drinking in the streets (can’t do that anywhere else in the country!)
And not only did they install drywall, the volunteers also removed the nails from the floor of the kitchen, removed the old tile from the back hall floor, busted up the concrete in the backyard (that I might have grass one day) and moved the debris to the curb.
Anietra and Mike showing those nails who's boss.
Bret attacking that stubborn tile... while I work hard in the backyard. (lol)
Maida is about 5'3", y'all... WOW. That's all I have to say.
Carsta got jealous and wanted to take a turn too.
And Ky keeps it tidy.
Ten dedicated, energetic people can accomplish A LOT. I SO appreciate what they did. To top it off, one of the volunteers, Bret, actually changed his flight so that he could stay an extra day! So we spent the rest of Monday and Tuesday morning putting up MORE drywall!!
Bret and I put up drywall on two walls in the kitchen after the others went back to NY.
It felt AMAZING to look around the house and see walls, not boards of wood. I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could imagine what the house might look like once I’m done. One day, I’ll actually be done!! Needless to say, that weekend experience has given me fuel to continue forward.
NEXT!
Since the volunteers left three weeks ago, I have installed drywall in most of the kitchen (except the sections of wall where there’s plumbing).
Putting up drywall by myself. See that nice sheen on my legs? I didn't get oiled up for the photo shoot, y'all. That's sweat!!!
Another wall in the kitchen that I put up alone.
I’ve also knocked down the bathroom closet, the beams that supported the lowered ceiling in the bathroom and most of the closet in the back hall. Yes, I am making aesthetic changes to the house. Yes, I am getting more attached to it. I can’t just let the house remain with those ugly additions. Why would one level vaulted (or half-vaulted) ceilings? After I removed the closet and those beams, the bathroom just opened up. It thanked me. It did. The walls will be covered in “greenboard”, a water-resistant form of drywall, and cement board (around the bathtub enclosure).
Before-and-After of the bathroom ceiling. Isn't it better now?
All that's left of my closets. Hope I can reuse some of the wood for something else!
Also To-Do, the drywall in the other rooms needs mudding. Mudding is the process of filling holes and covering seams using joint compound and joint compound tape. It’ll be a long, tedious process because I have to spread it over each screw hole in the drywall (and since the volunteers got a little trigger happy with the cordless drills, there are A LOT of ‘em) and, of course, the shorter your drywall sheets are, the more seams you’ll have. I opted for the 8’ long sheets, instead of 12’ sheets, which are heavier and more difficult to carry. So, I have a task ahead of me. I think I’m going to organize a Mudding Party and see who in New Orleans can come by next weekend or the weekend after to help me knock this out. I’ll keep y’all posted!!
ME vs. THE MOLD
In my absence, mold remediation was done on the house, courtesy of Inspector 12. As you may recall from a previous post, I took that company’s advice and removed all the drywall in the house so that they could thoroughly obliterate any mold that might even be THINKING of growing in my house. Originally, they quoted me a little under $2K to do the job. It wasn’t in my budget, but I decided that it was worth the extra expense to be assured that no one who lived in that house would have respiratory problems because of something I neglected to do. So I was prepared to take the hit. A few weeks into my trip, I received this email: “I have decided to remediate your home as a donation because of your tireless effort to restore your property. I am truly impressed to see what you have accomplished…” Thank you, Ivan from Inspector 12!! Unfortunately, it failed the post-inspection.
According to Louisiana law, the remediator and the inspector cannot be the same person/company. So I was going to hire Bill Feaheny, an environmental consultant and professional air quality tester, to do the post-inspection. Upon completing the initial visual inspection, however, he concluded that the remediation company didn’t follow proper protocol for mold removal. He wouldn’t do the air test because none of the holes in the house had been plugged. Additionally, he'd never heard of Inspector 12. Well, I didn’t have time to search for another remediation company, then schedule another inspection. I had a group of volunteers coming the following weekend to help install drywall! So he gave me some suggestions about how to move forward. I am still grateful to Inspector 12 for doing the job. The house was cleanER and the air was clearER after they did the work.
Weekend Warriors
SO, when I first moved down here, my friend Anietra in New York said that she’d come and help out sometime this year. “Great!” I thought. “I can use the help!” In late May, she emailed with plans of assembling a group of friends to volunteer at my house. In a matter of days, she’d gotten ten commitments! I was floored. TEN people flying down to New Orleans OF THEIR OWN VOLITION to help me rebuild my house. I shouldn’t have been surprised; this was classic Anietra style. Anything this woman does, she does to the nth degree.
So now I had ten volunteers coming to stay at my mom’s not-quite-ready house… and I’d just found out I’d be traveling for the next five weeks, up until two days before they were supposed to arrive! Needless to say, it was difficult preparing from afar for a group of this size, but it all worked out and the weekend went surprisingly quite smoothly. My mom was absolutely fabulous; she ordered the drywall and other supplies while I was away, she agreed to cook red beans and rice, and gumbo for the volunteers AND keep my daughter while I worked with them over that weekend. My uncle took care of the drywall delivery (thanks Eli!). I borrowed air mattresses from my cousin, my aunt’s neighbor, and my mom’s friend. And the St. Bernard Project loaned me drills and a bunch of other necessary tools. Man, it's good to have a big family! I got the rest of the supplies from Common Ground. Since my Wednesday flight back to New Orleans ended up being CANCELLED (grrr…), I flew back that Friday (the same day as the volunteers!). But I was still able to make all the necessary last-minute runs before they arrived. I wanted to make them at least semi-comfortable in that house.
I’d prepped Anietra before they came down – there’s no air-conditioning in my mom’s house; there’s very little furniture; some of the floors are unfinished; there’s only one working bathroom; the entire first floor of the house has been gutted and is un-usable; the house hasn’t been lived in since August 2005. They knew it would be FAR from luxury living and they were cool with that. I’d suggested to Anietra that we work short days (9am-2pm) because of the heat and humidity. There is no electricity in my house (translation – no fans… don’t even THINK about air-conditioning) and it was the end of July, one of the hottest months of the year. They all insisted on working ALL day. I patronizingly entertained that notion, thinking, “Wait til they get down here.”
Well, when they got down here, they hit the ground running. The day their plane touched down; they wanted to go check out my house and maybe get some work done! We spent the evening moving drywall from the driveway into the house, racing against the approaching storm. We made it, thank goodness. The following day was Saturday; we got a brief drywall demo from some skilled volunteers from St. Bernard Project.
Richard assists while Dave and Mike demo drywall installation.
The rest of us pay close attention.
Since I’d only put up drywall once or twice, I thought it would be better for a more experienced person to supervise. [Good thing because a few issues arose that I wouldn’t have been able to handle alone. The biggest issue was the un-evenness of the vertical barge boards and that fact that many were missing in the front room of the house. So we learned how to use shims to level the drywall, and how to reinforce existing beams with two-by-fours and drill the drywall to that. So handy!] And we actually did work all day Saturday AND Sunday… until the sun went down and we couldn’t see anymore. But it didn't feel like slavery at all!!(That was a joke... anyway..) By the end of the weekend, most of the house's interior had drywall.
They came, they saw, they installed.
A wall in the second room. DONE. After they were done, most of the walls looked just like this. PERFECT!
Our mascot insisted that I include him.
It's amazing what 10 volunteers can do in a weekend, isn't it? Sike! This ain't my house, y'all!
As much as we worked, you wouldn’t think there was time to do anything else. But the group also wanted to get out and see New Orleans. They had a ball… live music at The Spotted Cat on Frenchmen Street, dancing on Bourbon Street, beignets (apparently, "nothing but a zeppoli" according to some people) at Café Du Monde, and drinking in the streets (can’t do that anywhere else in the country!)
And not only did they install drywall, the volunteers also removed the nails from the floor of the kitchen, removed the old tile from the back hall floor, busted up the concrete in the backyard (that I might have grass one day) and moved the debris to the curb.
Anietra and Mike showing those nails who's boss.
Bret attacking that stubborn tile... while I work hard in the backyard. (lol)
Maida is about 5'3", y'all... WOW. That's all I have to say.
Carsta got jealous and wanted to take a turn too.
And Ky keeps it tidy.
Ten dedicated, energetic people can accomplish A LOT. I SO appreciate what they did. To top it off, one of the volunteers, Bret, actually changed his flight so that he could stay an extra day! So we spent the rest of Monday and Tuesday morning putting up MORE drywall!!
Bret and I put up drywall on two walls in the kitchen after the others went back to NY.
It felt AMAZING to look around the house and see walls, not boards of wood. I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I could imagine what the house might look like once I’m done. One day, I’ll actually be done!! Needless to say, that weekend experience has given me fuel to continue forward.
NEXT!
Since the volunteers left three weeks ago, I have installed drywall in most of the kitchen (except the sections of wall where there’s plumbing).
Putting up drywall by myself. See that nice sheen on my legs? I didn't get oiled up for the photo shoot, y'all. That's sweat!!!
Another wall in the kitchen that I put up alone.
I’ve also knocked down the bathroom closet, the beams that supported the lowered ceiling in the bathroom and most of the closet in the back hall. Yes, I am making aesthetic changes to the house. Yes, I am getting more attached to it. I can’t just let the house remain with those ugly additions. Why would one level vaulted (or half-vaulted) ceilings? After I removed the closet and those beams, the bathroom just opened up. It thanked me. It did. The walls will be covered in “greenboard”, a water-resistant form of drywall, and cement board (around the bathtub enclosure).
Before-and-After of the bathroom ceiling. Isn't it better now?
All that's left of my closets. Hope I can reuse some of the wood for something else!
Also To-Do, the drywall in the other rooms needs mudding. Mudding is the process of filling holes and covering seams using joint compound and joint compound tape. It’ll be a long, tedious process because I have to spread it over each screw hole in the drywall (and since the volunteers got a little trigger happy with the cordless drills, there are A LOT of ‘em) and, of course, the shorter your drywall sheets are, the more seams you’ll have. I opted for the 8’ long sheets, instead of 12’ sheets, which are heavier and more difficult to carry. So, I have a task ahead of me. I think I’m going to organize a Mudding Party and see who in New Orleans can come by next weekend or the weekend after to help me knock this out. I’ll keep y’all posted!!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
On Hiatus
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.
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.
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.
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