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! :)

The tale of the swim trunks.

I might draw pictures, but right now I'm too busy. And my drawing style's changing, but I have to figure out how to draw everything again.

So.

The tale of the swim trunks.
*Dum Dum Dum*

One day I woke up and looked outside on a cool morning near the end of summer to find a pair of wet navy blue swim trunks tossed casually by my window.

I don't know whose they are. Or where they came from.

Frankly, I don't want to know, because all the stories in my head about it sound much better than the real story could ever be. Most of them involve a streaker. In the dead of night.

But they were by my window, and by my window they remained. For about a week they were the subject of quite a few facebook posts, but then I got distracted by something shiny and forgot about them.

Summer changed into Fall and then snow covered up the snow trunks abandoned outside my window.

And I forgot about them entirely for several freezing months of pain and despair and wind and flat (except for that lovely week when I went to visit my sister in New Orleans...) and...okay, I ran out of adjectives.

Anyway, I forgot about them until there was a sudden thaw. I looked out my window, and lo and behold! The trunks were partially uncovered...still lying outside my window.

And they became my main griping subject for the next week or so, until one lovely (rather stressful) false spring day. I walked into my room to see two young gentlemen outside my window.

They picked up the swim trunks, laughed a bit, and then PUT THEM BACK outside my window. Like I needed them for some bizarre type of EXTERIOR DECORATING.

"Oh yes, move the trunks just a little to the left...now to the right...yes that's perfect. Now your room's positive energy will stay in, and the negative energy will flow out, thanks to these navy blue swim trunks crumpled delicately outside your main energy portal..."

So my mind may or may not have broken. Just a little. So I made a sign (misspelling "swim" once and "please" twice)

PLEAS PLESE PLEASE TAKE THE
SMIW SWIM TRUNKS
I DON’T WANT THEM

And then I waited. Two days.

And then they disappeared.

I did a little dance, and removed the sign from my window, confident that the drama of the swim trunks was over.

A day later:

My neighbor walks into my room.

"You're a bitch."

I jolt upright. While insults and commentary like this are actually fairly common in our friendship, I'm reasonably sure I haven't done anything to warrant this. I say (quite cleverly,) "What?"

"The fucking swim trunks are outside my window now!"

"WHAT?"

Totally wasn't my fault. :D

I have no idea how - or if - she got rid of the swim trunks.

Personally, I think that they just gained a type of sentience over the winter, and seeing that they weren't wanted, simply started lurching on.

If you see them on the road, be nice to them.

Pick Up the Pieces

Osama Bin Ladin is dead.

So yay and everything. A man who probably wouldn't have been able to become so powerful without our original military/weapon help is now dead.

The war's not over. None of the wars are over. Iraq, Libya back-up, revolutions in Middle East, the War on Terrorism (Thanks, Bush, for declaring war on a concept.) Soldiers are still everywhere, still fighting so we can live in our suburban houses with our two door garage and our 2.7 children and don't have to get touched by anything that isn't "clean," isn't "right" for our kids. I bet their families are celebrating. They can come home, right? Nope.

We still have a national debt that our *children* won't be able to pay off - and it's rising.

And did you know New Orleans is *still* rebuilding? Yeah, six years later. Thanks, FEMA.

Plus, you know, the 857 tornadoes last month kind of screwed our "great nation" over in a big way. Whole towns have been destroyed. Wiped off the map. People were killed, are dead. Yeah, I bet their families are celebrating. While they're trying to salvage what they can from the wreckage of their lives. Because, hey, rains are coming...which will destroy whatever they have left out.

That's just the US. Just a small part of what's wrong.

And the thing that's right is that we're celebrating a man's death?

Because he became what we probably made him to be?

National Holiday? What will we call it? Yay It's Over Day? Yes He's Dead Day? How about War Win? Except the war isn't over, is it? And we haven't won it yet, I don't care what the press releases say.

So yay. He's dead. See me waving my tiny little American flag in the parade as they march with a funeral procession.

See me cheering.

Can we pick up the pieces *now*?