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.


MOST RECENT UPDATES
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?

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

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly

So much has been happening since my last post. I've been quite busy and too tired by the end of the day to post updates. But right now, my beautiful daughter is taking a much-needed nap, so I'm taking advantage of the free time. I'll try to consolidate as best I can.

Let's start off with The Good news. A couple weeks ago, my aunt informed me that a friend of hers was looking for a housesitter. So I called, we talked, and it looks like I'll be making a little extra money housesitting for 10 days starting this Sunday. Extra money is always good, but that's not THE good news. The good news is that the owner of the (hurricane-damaged) house, Maela, is doing all the repairs HERSELF. AND is open to having me come and help her so that I can learn a thing or two. I went to help one day last week. I removed nails from the wooden stairs; and though it wasn't a major job like putting up a wall or plumbing, it was something I'd never done and now I know what tools I need and how to do it. Skills!! She also showed me how to use the table saw. Skills!! I'm so excited. I'm gonna learn how to make and fix stuff. No more "damsel in distress" every time something breaks.

More Good news - My sister came down from North Carolina this past week to visit. We started cleaning out my mom's house. This is awesome because I haven't physically done anything on her (or my) house since I got here. So that's a start. We cleaned the kitchen together. This was no small task. The kitchen had not been touched since August 29, 2005 (Hurricane Katrina's arrival). There was a layer of dust (containing who knows what... probably mold particles) over everything. Black and brown water stains on the floor. And debris from the small construction projects she had done recently. We cleaned it all up. Shiny and new. My sis and her friend, Shakana, cleaned the bathroom the next day. Then I swept up all the fallen paint chips and other debris in two of the bedrooms. The next step will be pulling up that nasty carpet. Hurricane-damage aside (it didn't get any water-damage anyway), that carpet is 13 years old and needs to be thrown out. So we'll be either installing new carpet or installing ceramic tile. By ourselves. I'll keep you posted.

And now The Bad news - I mentioned in an earlier post that the front door had been stolen off my house. I'd left it unsecured after the Search-and-Rescue teams busted the door in post-Katrina. The house was empty and my air conditioners had already been stolen... so I didn't think there was anything else to take. Last year, they took my front door. Ha ha ha. Architectural theft is rampant down here now. On a block like mine, which has been completely abandoned (save my next door neighbor Eddie who is also a landlord, and periodically comes by to work on his house), it's pretty easy to steal architectural details off people's houses. No one's there to watch. Apparently, people are doing this in broad daylight. And these are not just your every day crackheads looking for something to sell either. Contractors, people posing as contractors, and people posing as Preservation Resource Center officials are doing it too. Well-orchestrated thievery. My door was not hurriedly ripped off the frame. It was carefully unscrewed from the hinges (there's no damage to the frame or hinges at all). As I've been looking around for replacements, I'm discovering that my door was quite unique. I haven't found anything like it yet. Guess that's why they helped themselves to it. Anyway, about a week ago, my neighbor Eddie informed me that someone stole the copper pipes from underneath his house... and that mine were gone too. So my pipes are gone, conveniently replaced by my suspicion about my neighbor's hand in it. Sucks. Not only is copper expensive these days, but I also have the added expense of fencing off the crawlspace underneath my house so that this doesn't happen again. I've heard they're stealing electric wires now for the copper inside. I just had the place re-wired (Well, almost... that is another bit of bad news. But I won't get into it. Let's just say that the electricians down here are running a racket and they finish whenever they feel like it), so I have to do that soon.

Now for The Ugly. It is literally ugly. I wish I'd taken a photo, but I didn't think of it at the time. I recently discovered mold growth BEHIND my walls. Pre-Katrina, I thought that my walls were plaster. The fact that there was no visible mold growth after the hurricane validated this theory for me. However, as my mother and I were assessing the damage in my house last week, we noticed a crack in the wall under a window. A small piece of the wall was loose and when I pulled it back, I saw it plain as day - mold. The mold and I greeted each other, as dignified enemies do when waging war. Its days are numbered. So, this is ugly for me because the silver lining on my dark hurricane cloud had been "at least I didn't get any mold." I was one of the lucky ones. Now I have to gut the house (at least four feet from the floor) to get rid of the mold. For those unfamiliar with the term "gut" in relation to construction (or de-construction), basically I have to remove all the sheetrock and whatever is behind it down to the framing of the house. It's not as fun as it sounds. But I can (and will) do it. Maela offered to help when she gets back from her vacation. So, I'm grateful that The Bad and The Ugly come with The Good, otherwise I might regret the day I set foot back on the soil of this charming (and charmed) city.

That's all for now, guys. Sorry no pics, Gary. I had "before-and-after" shots of my mom's kitchen, but it's not much of a visible difference so I decided not to post them. I guess you'll just have to READ. Better to do that sober.

Road Home Says No

Yesterday, I attended an application workshop for the Road Home Small Rental Properties Program in hopes that I might get some state money to assist in fixing up my house. The program awards forgivable loans to owners of 1-4 unit properties in hurricane-damaged areas, provided they rent their units for affordable prices. Deal. I wasn't going to charge a lot anyway. There are LOTS of landlords in New Orleans now who are taking advantage of the housing shortage by hiking up rent. I don't need to do that.

Anyway, I figured that, unlike the Historic Grant, I might actually have a good chance of getting this money. My house is one unit and it is definitely in a hurricane damaged area. It's also in a historic district that has been on the city's "revitalization" list for a while. I figured there was no reason I SHOULDN'T get this money. The State of Louisiana disagreed, however. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the first two lines on the second page of the application -

If the answer to the following question is NO, you are not eligible for the Small Rental Property Program:

Were you a Louisiana resident at the date of Hurricane Katrina or Rita?

Ouch.

Can I get ANY assistance? I couldn't get any FEMA money because the property wasn't my primary residence and no one was living there at the time of the storm. I couldn't get any insurance money for flood damage because I did not have flood insurance. I didn't get flood insurance because it NEVER floods in that area. That neighborhood didn't even flood when Hurricane Betsy (the worst hurricane to hit New Orleans before Katrina) hit in 1965. A month after I bought the property, the entire city flooded, however. I'm not eligible for any Road Home Homeowner's money because it wasn't my primary residence. And now I'm not eligible for the Small Rental Property money because I wasn't a resident at the time of the storm. Will they consider the fact that I was born and raised here... and that I quit my job and moved down here in order to work on my house? Can I get SOMETHING?

Anyway, I put my emotions aside and did not let this painful news get me down. There were advisors at the application workshop whose job it was to answer any questions we might have. I waited in line to speak to one of these fine people. I asked my question and was surprised that even she seemed puzzled. She explained to me that the rules for these programs are changing constantly and that the rule-makers may not have considered applicants in my position. She advised me to apply anyway and talk to my local representative. More work. But is that not what I am here to do? Yes, it is. So I'm up for it. I will speak to local representative. I hope that these rules change.

Beauty Amidst The Destruction

Yesterday, my father and I went looking for a comrade of his in Hollygrove, a neighborhood in Uptown New Orleans. (He hadn't seen her since the storm, but heard that she was back in New Orleans.) Half the residents in trailers, half in damaged homes. Abandoned houses, abandoned cars. No one using the sidewalks, since they were covered in debris or standing water. People out on the street, walking, fixing cars, sitting on their porches, talking with neighbors. People making due. Still living. This is what people do.

Amidst all of this, I found this thing of beauty. A rusted shell of a car propped on its side on the side of the road.

Touchdown

Wow. I just moved to New Orleans. I’m not sure how I feel just yet… and people keep asking me. Really, it feels like I’m just visiting. Ask me in a month.

We missed yesterday’s flight and ended up flying down early this morning. I was so exhausted, I wanted to cry. Once we got to our new home (aka my Mom's apartment in Treme), I SLEPT… for like 5 hours. The good thing about moving in with your mother is that she WANTS to hang out with your child. And, thus, you get to sleep. (Thanks, Ma. I needed that.)

I think I am happy to be here though. I’m anxious to start working. No, I’m not getting a job. I mean REALLY working. Taking my future into my own hands and making things happen. I started a TO DO list today. So beginning Monday, I’ll be visiting places like Preservation Resource Center, Global Green, and Common Ground. I know I need LOTS of help restoring my house, so I want to explore these potential resources immediately. My mom is thrilled that I’m here… happy for my energy and drive. I’ll be helping her with her house too.

Well, I just wanted to post a short update. I’m still tired. That’s my punishment for having so much STUFF to move. Even though I’ve gotten rid of A LOT of my belongings over the past year, somehow I still have too much. And packing it all just wore me out. So I’m headed to bed. Goodnight.

The Damage

A lot of people have been asking me how much my house was actually damaged. Here are some pics of my house taken in Oct/Nov 2005. Not much has changed since then, except that I had the roof replaced and the wiring redone.


The front of the house. Since this photo was taken, the front door (not the iron security door, but the custom-milled wooden door) has been stolen. Thieves have been stealing architectural details off people's houses since the storm hit and neighborhoods were left abandoned.



My house got at least 3-4 feet of flooding. The water tipped over the fridge in the kitchen. This appliance has since been removed from the house. Also, part of the ceiling fell in, as you can see.



Here's the gaping hole in the kitchen ceiling.



The floors were damaged a little, but I think they're salvageable. I just have to refinish them. They were painted before I bought the house, so that's part of the reason for the awful coloring.



This is the shed behind the house. The garage door was ripped off. There's lots of debris inside that still needs to be cleared out and I think it needs a new roof. I could use it as a garage, a washroom or maybe a studio of some sort. The previous owners put their music studio back there.



Hello, gross bathtub. I probably would've replaced you anyway. Why are you pink?