26 November 2011

Pride

In August, 2005, the citizens of New Orleans were hit by a hurricane. It was made all the more devastating because they had actually thought that it was going to pass them by right up to the last day, when the path of the hurricane pointed itself right for New Orleans. The devastation was also worse because of New Orleans' failed levee systems. (My sister pointed me to a book about that.)

Citizens had begun the day as normal. Some had actually left the city for cover, but many had not. It had been a year of close calls and false promises on the part of the weather, and many people didn't think that anything of any magnitude would occur.

We were wrong.

Today, more than five years after the disaster area that Katrina and New Orleans' failed levee systems left behind, people are still struggling to survive in a city that has been mostly forgotten by FEMA and our ADD media in favor of Haiti, Japan, Iraq, Iran, Libya, and the many protests occurring in our world.

But people are helping. My sister went to New Orleans as part of her school even before the hurricane hit, and worked with Catholic Charities.

Time passed. My English and Journalism major sister graduated and went to work at Bernstein Global Financial in Chicago, a wealth management company.

And for a while my family didn't hear anything about New Orleans. Until the hurricane hit in 2005.

Two years ago, my sister moved to New Orleans to continue what she had done in school; helping people rebuild their homes, their lives, and their communities. She still worked with Catholic Charities. And in time she became the volunteer coordinator in Operation Helping Hands.
And even though I'd be proud of my siblings no matter what they did or where they went, I think that made me the proudest.

I visited her last year for spring break for a week; my parents had visited her for Mardi Gras, just a week or two earlier. They left work boots from my dad's company (Link!) and took with them the knowledge that my sister was happy and safe. When I went, I worked for a day or so. I learned how to prime a house and how to paint windows. I also learned a lot about my sister.

See, when I was a kid, I used to think she was perfect. She got good grades, didn't stay out too late, and I never saw her get into a fight with my parents. But last year I learned something even better. My sister isn't perfect. Like me, she has a tendency of wearing very nice clothes to paint houses or sets and getting them covered in dust and paint and wood glue. But she is pretty damn awesome.

Operation Helping Hands was only supposed to last for four more years, but they've instead decided to close in two years. The reason? When the initial surge of donations and volunteer work began, a lot of drywall was donated from China. And that drywall had unsafe levels of sulfur in it. The sulfuric acid that it eventually exudes corrodes metal. Operation Helping Hands has decided to replace all of the unsafe drywall that they used then with safe drywall, and that's going to use up the rest of the grants.

So that leaves quite a few volunteers in that program wondering "Where do we go from here?" The end of that time limit is coming up faster than you'd think.

And so my sister is returning to Chicago.

And after two years, her handprint is joining the handprints of other volunteers who have come to work with the great people at Operation Helping Hands.
And just like my sister, it's pretty damn awesome.



(Edit: A few hours after I posted, my sister emailed me with a few details I got wrong. So here's to the edit button on the blog. :) Hopefully this satisfies both of us.)

And here's a shout out to the many volunteer programs that are still fighting Hurricane Katrina's devastating aftereffects: Project Homecoming, Lowernine, United Saints Recovery Project, Beacon of Hope, Habitat for Humanity and Phoenix of New Orleans. You guys are great! :)

21 November 2011

Minor Disagreement

"And I'm sorry, but I don't want to have this argument anymore. I might feel..." Searching for the words to say how I feel, what I feel. Right now the only thing I can think of, honestly, is tense and uncomfortable. Why do you have to talk about this now? Why did you have to spoil this now? I can't eat - I look down at my half-eaten pepperoni pizza slice on my plate, next to it the grapes. It had made me so happy when I'd realized that the dining center had had them.
I can't eat.
"badly for the fact that you had to wake up, but we have rules in our room now." I'm still fumbling for words. Words - spoken words - are never your problem. And when I'm talking in front of three people, one of whom are angry, two of whom are, I know, judging, weighing, measuring in that way that our gender has...the words stick in my throat along with the partially digested grape.
You say something to the judge, say it again, there's a question. I know these things but they're already fading in my head.
At this moment I can think only of escape. It's always been my habit to run from these things, these conflicts that make up our lives. But I'm serving no good here but to repeat myself.
"See, we have these commandments in our room. And we've been asking people to stop leaving garbage in our room for a while now, because we have to clean it up..."
"But there were *5* other people in that room, and *I* had to wake up..."
"And I don't want to argue about it anymore. I'm not going to apologize for it."
Awkward tense silence to match the tenseness in my stomach. I'm not done with my plate but I'm done with my food.
I get up, walk to the dish area, put my dishes down. I can't even pause long enough to put them on the conveyor belt, and then I'm walking - not running- walking briskly down the stairs, through the tunnels.
In the elevator I can put a hand to my stomach, a fist to mirror the fist in my gut and my head and knotted around my feelings. It's hard to disagree with a friend - I have gone from having none to having many in what feels like a very short time, and I'm still terrified of losing the ones I have.
I will mourn this, angst over this, and finally write it down, trying to work out the tenseness in my stomach.
You won't remember this.