receiving trailers a year later

We've been doing a ton of tree removal jobs lately. We have a great system going - someone to tie the rope, pullers, chainsawers, and even a set-up in which we use the dump truck to pull the big trees (those that Jen, Marianne and I may not be quite strong enough versus the wind). As Ron told us when he watched us take down a couple of trees, "you're a well-oiled machine." So, while tree jobs have become the norm, I'm still surprised at the need.

We are the only organization along the Gulf Coast removing dead trees even though everyone sees the problem - from the local news to the forestry department. Aside from the shock I still have that we're the only group helping out in this way, I am also shocked as to why certain trees need to be removed. Most dead trees we remove so they won't fall on a trailer or house under construction. But in some cases, families still haven't even received their FEMA trailer. So we show up to an empty lot and I think to myself "Why are we taking these trees down?" And then I learn that it is so that the property can be safe to receive the trailer or start rebuilding.

This past week we worked on two lots so that their owners could receive their FEMA trailers. One lot needed trees cleared. We were able to remove the dead pines arounds the property to secure the area where the trailer would be put. The second lot needed major weeding to make an area suitable to place a trailer. The owner of this lot had to relocate to northern Louisiana a few months ago in order to work and had to leave her lot unattended.

Nearing a year later, people are still only now receiving their FEMA trailers. While some people are moving back into their homes and businesses are slowly but surely are reopening, there are still just as many people in the very first stages of rebuilding. It's a year later and many are just receiving the financial and government help they deserve. And still many others are still waiting.

Southern hospitality

On my plane ride to move to Mississippi in June, I sat next to a native southerner. He told me of the one time he was in Boston for a conference, the great food, the beautiful Common. The one part he said he didn’t like was the rude drivers. “They cut you off, flip you off……no one would ever do that in the South,” he told me. “‘Cause everyone’s armed and dangerous, never know when someone’ll pull out a gun.” “Well, there’s one way to look at southern hospitality,” I replied.

Although I did enjoy the man’s interesting point, I have found an impressive amount of truly heartfelt southern hospitality. My first job when I got down here was building office space at Hope Haven. The founder of Hope Haven and his wife invited us all to their home for lunch and a little pool party one weekend. Just last weekend, Karen, who works at Hope Haven, had us over to her house for dinner. Evelina, the woman who runs the local newspaper, took us out to dinner the other night and keeps us up-to-date on town events.

Then there are Ron and Rosie who live down the street from us. We happened to meet Ron by chance a few weeks ago and since then they have taken us in. A couple Tuesdays ago they invited us to their home for a home-cooked fried shrimp dinner – I’d never tried shrimp and to my surprise I actually like it! The next week, though only Jen and I were around, they took us out to dinner and showed us their new house which is close to being finished. When Ron found out Jen likes to play golf, he even offered to try to find her a sponsor so she could play on his team in an upcoming golf tournament which benefits the Fire Department and offered to share his clubs.

While the free food is much appreciated amid Salvation Army frozen dinners and Katrina Kitchen meals, the hospitality and connection to where we’re living is what I really love. Getting to know these people, knowing we’re welcomed into the community and really starting to feel a part of it, instead of just people who are just staying there, is awesome. I can’t thank them enough for all they’ve done for us!

While we were painting the pharmacy the other day, a woman pulled her car over from the busy street and asked us if she could buy us cokes or anything as a thank you for our work. She didn’t work at the pharmacy; she may not even use this pharmacy. But the overflow of hospitality is inspiring. There’s a lot of negative stuff that has and maybe still is going on down here – people not receiving the help they need. But seeing how positive and genuinely warm-hearted so many people are is just incredible.

Terry, Ann, Karen and Rosie aren’t actually from the South. So either southern hospitality has rubbed off on them, or people are just nice wherever you are. But one way or another, whatever people’s motivations, I’m pretty sure none of it is out of fear as the man on the plane had joked.

Carmen

The other day I met a woman named Carmen and her husband, Clarence, who is in a wheel-chair. The home they lived in pre-Katrina still lies mostly untouched since the storm. They now stay with their two daughters in a home they built for one of them. The FEMA trailer the couple received sits in the daughter’s yard; since her house isn’t big enough for them all, Carmen’s daughter stays in her parents’ trailer, giving them her bedroom and bath.

Although Carmen is appreciative of her daughter’s generosity and their good-fortune in having a family member’s home to live in, she feels cramped and yearns to be back in her own home. Clarence’s wheel-chair has scraped marks along the hallway walls of the house and nicked the doorframes of the bedroom and bathroom. But the couple’s own home is far from being livable, even though it’s nearly been a year since the storm hit.

Mold still needs to be removed from Carmen’s home – the first step in rebuilding. Carmen told me what she’d received from FEMA, that hey had no insurance and what little progress they have made. Numerous contractors and volunteer groups never returned her calls or told her they couldn’t help because of the scale of the job.

I met Carmen when I went to talk to her about applying for grants for building materials. She was so enthusiastic and appreciative that I was even there talking with her about rebuilding and helping her put things in motion. A physically tiny woman – no taller than 5’ at most – her joy filled the room.