Louisiana Diary

October 26, 2005

2006-10-29T14:13:00.000-05:00

I didn’t even bother to write an entry this a.m. I woke up over and over again last night, thinking of all the things I would need to do or want to do before I leave, and of course hardly remembered any of it. Except that I woke up un-refreshed and a little burnt out. I did remember to call BTI to confirm my flight home, and wrote notes to both J. and D., the shelter manager till Saturday, that I had put in for a car and a day off Friday, needed to process out Saturday, and would be flying out of Baton Rouge on Sunday. As I was informed, this means I’ll have to move camp to B.R. and stay there Saturday night, which is a pain in the ass. Everybody else has been able to process out in Covington and fly out via the NOLA airport next door, but that would have been way too easy for me. I took another $200 out of my card, and left $133 in the bank. When we reconcile at Financial during outprocessing, I think I can justify it all. Some people, especially the kids who have been camping out in the French Quarter every night, have gone through their money like drunken sailors. Well, the drunken part fits.
J. just came in briefly and I told her I want to go into NOLA for my last run tomorrow. “Send me someplace good”, I told her. This way I’ll avoid being stuck on some pointless 2nd run on a Bravo ERV and risk possibly returning at an ungodly hour.
Earlier there was a birthday celebration for R., who came down with me. He was in tears. It was very sweet.
I’ve been trying to remember some of the things I’ve been seeing over the past few days. In Mid-City, angry graffiti on the side of a house:
“Screw you, Nagin. We made our own plan.”
“Katrina got PMS.”
The broken bodies of rotted and collapsed buildings have become billboards for the anger and pain of the people of NOLA and the towns surrounding it. Sprawled over 4 corners (of an intersection) and down half the city blocks beyond, piles of ruined stuffed animals 6 or 7 feet high, the ruins of a warehouse that held a man's entire livelihood. Delicate little houses with wrought ironwork and still-vibrant paint jobs, broken, rotting, and abandoned for miles. The fluorescent red or orange "X" painted on house after house, a sign left by those who entered searching for bodies or the still-living in need of rescue. At the top is the date of inspection--most are dated around 9/15 or later, some as late as early October. On the left, the initials of the inspecting group.
At the bottom, the number of dead found; usually that was a "0", meaning none. To see a number other than the struck through zero there always gave me a chill. The letters in the right side of the cross still remain a mystery. Sometimes they seemed to indicate a direction, as in "NE". Other times they made no sense at all. And often I'd see "TFW" written (inside a circle). I still don't know what it is. The SPCA would sometimes weigh in, as well. Their messages were easy to decipher: "K-9 moved to corner"; "1 dog alive"; "2 cats under house"; and sometimes "no dogs" or "1 dead cat".
Between these signs and messages, and the words written by the ones who had to leave in anger and bitterness, even the parts of NOLA that are still and lifeless vibrate with a thousand voices, reaching out to communicate with anyone who comes after. "Help! Help! Help!" reads the house on the street in the lower Ninth Ward. Places where not a living thing moves can make the tears come, when you read the stories that have been left there. Holes in roofs torn by the desperate, trapped inside their houses while trying to escape rising waters, still gape to remind us of their terror.
To imagine living here, constantly facing the massive deconstruction on every corner, in every yard, with your entire environment looking like one big landfill;
to live growing numb to the ugliness; to expect mud, cracked earth, endless dust, to always be hacking and coughing, living with low-level respiratory ailments; to wait without hope for salvation from the insurance company, the city, the federal government, to live with price gouging. To live in tents.
At home it has rained endlessly, and been cold. Here, the sun has shone everyday, and the earth is parched. Hurricane Wilma's hellacious winds sent water into the Ninth Ward again Tuesday, and what small progress made there was halted.
I wish I could say I'll miss NOLA, or Louisiana, but I won't. It's too flat for my soul, and I miss the seasons. Fall doesn't exist here, at least in a way that makes sense to a Yankee. The few Halloween decorations I've noticed look as out of place as a Christmas tree in the middle of a bandstand on a summer night. But most of all, I won't miss the constant low-level misery, the endless fighting back against despair that is the lot of every person here. I've come to love the strength, humor, and compassion of the local people. But I don't have enough of any of those qualities to bear their miseries.
Today my ERV got to come back early (3:30) because the kitchen ran out of food, so I had a very pleasant and relaxing day. J., next to me, went up with me to a local store and took money out of our Red Cross cards, then I came back, took a hot shower, enjoyed cake and ice cream and 2 more chicken sandwiches for dinner, and sat down to write in this journal.
Time for bed.

October 25, 2005

2006-10-29T14:04:00.000-05:00

3 more working days, including today. The cold snap continues---low 40s this a.m, 60s later. After tomorrow it should slowly warm up into the weekend. At least the wind has died down considerably.
I’m still on a high from yesterday. Full of energy, and looking forward to the rest of the week. Some of the new folks are being sent to Kitchen #5 in Westwego to work (leaving @ 7:30) but have to stay here for lack of a shelter (we’re Kitchen #3.) The rest of us, some case management folks and the rest ERV people, continue to plug away at our usual work.

8:28 p.m.—A good day on the ERV with a new driver, S., and Su., M. (an Americorps kid), and T., and old guy from N. Carolina. We did a real good job, down in Mid-City NOLA---got rid of all the food with a little trip to the Municipal Auditorium. Couldn’t reach K. all day because of phone trouble, but he just now called. I’m tired. Not much to say. Saw some zombies (hazmat guys in white suits and gas masks who pull the dead bodies out) who came to eat from the truck, and the most bizarre sight since I’ve been here: a house that had collapsed to the ground so that the only thing visible above the ground was the roof and attic. So much destruction.

October 24, 2005

2006-10-29T13:56:00.000-05:00

4 working days left. Yesterday I was too beat to finish my entry.
There was the same trouble with getting through on my phone. When it was working for awhile, I got a call from K.’s brother J. as I was handing food out the window of N’s truck. It was a horrible connection and I couldn’t stop to talk, so I got off with a promise to call back. Of course, it wasn’t working when I got back and settled. K. called after I went to bed and I told him to let J. know. Evidently M.’s called a few times, too, but I found no messages on the phone.
Yesterday L. took us on a mobile feed of the Loyola area in Kenner, then we were in Bucktown in Metairie with N. People told us of the problems they were having trying to rebuild, with insurance refusing to pay, saying it’s flood damage, and the authorities are requiring $100+ permits to rebuild, which means first an inspector is needed. Of course, there’s a line for the inspections, which means it can take 10-15 days or more before they even get an appointment, plus the fact that many of these folks haven’t had income since the storm. People are angry, and disillusioned, and traumatized.
One thing I came to terms with yesterday as I heard T. and the apostle P. sniping at N: personality conflicts and head-butting are more common than I thought, and it’s not just me. L. asked me how it was when she got in later, and when I told he, she wasn’t surprised. It’s like having 3 or 4 people in the same kitchen, each with their own ideas about how to do things, and each wanting to control those things. Some folks, like T. and the apostle P., eye folks coming on who they think are new, like M. and I, and take a patronizing attitude, or an “Oh God, here we go again” attitude. Others, like me, see new people with a friendly eye and patiently help them learn. When “P.” found out I had been here longer than he, his eyes got wide. He’d never seen me before. Well, I said, it’s a big shelter.
So this a.m, after a restless night from much loud banging and blowing, I awoke to discover that the wind outside, which had been steady but pleasant and a balmy all yesterday, had turned nasty. Last night it came up so hard it blew over a porta-potty and sheared off a car’s side view mirror. M. just said it’s 48 degrees outside, and when I stepped out earlier, the trees were flagged and there was much violence. Yes, it’s practically freezing outside.

8:15 p.m.---Turned out to be a great day. I rode with L. again this a.m.,, and a couple of women I didn’t know, one new, one with a little experience, and we only had the 1st run. Instead of looking for a 2nd ERV like yesterday, I hitched a ride back to the shelter with someone who was finished (since L. was going out scouting), and decided to try to get a car to go to Wal-Mart and try to get a new pair of sunglasses to replace the ones that broke this a.m. on the truck. When I asked for one, the only one available was about to be used to ferry a guy to Harvey for outprocessing, and R. told me I could have it if I rode the guy down there. I jumped at it, and on the way back stopped at a Target in Harvey, then later got off Rt. 10 at Tchoupitoulas St., which goes right into the French Quarter. I drove in, marked the parking and landmarks like the French Market and Café du Monde, then got out and took I-10 back into Kenner. The combination of getting out of the shelter, doing some shopping for myself, and finally seeing the French Quarter (not much, admittedly, but I was worried about being gone too long) was like getting an IV tonic. I was transformed into a happy, happy woman by the tiniest things. I made a to-do list of my plans for while there on Friday. Thinking about getting out of here is like imagining a great cloud breaking inside my head, and the sun coming through.
Lots of new people have arrived in the last few hours, and some who have been here a long time are getting ready to leave. The place is loud with many animated conversations.
I have new p.j.s from Target, Halloween socks, a Halloween hand towel, and just took a shower using new body wash, a new poof, new conditioner and new face cleanser. I feel and smell delicious.
Oh, Sunday, come soon!

October 23, 2005

2006-10-17T13:35:00.000-04:00

Sunday. 5 working days left. I’m so anticipating getting home. The little world here is making me claustrophobic. I just finished telling J. about my plans for my day off, Friday. Going to the French Quarter, doing a walking tour, hitting the Café du Monde for beignets & café au lait, trying a real NOLA Hurricane, maybe seeing a cemetery, and on the way home, getting a drive-through daiquiri. I realized I was getting better when I noticed myself laughing and getting animated. It’s the first time I found myself excited about anything for a long time---since before I was sick.
I may take a couple sick days when I get home, using the strep throat diagnosis from the clinic and just telling them I hadn’t had a chance to recover. Which is probably closer to the truth than I want to admit, anyway.
Today I admit I dread who I’ll be assigned with. I still don’t know why everything was so hard yesterday. When a driver is off, it makes everything difficult.

9:18 p.m.---So tired. Went out on 2 ERVs today. AM was great! Back with L. and 2 new folks: older woman, B., and young Americorps number, M. It went like a dream.
We got back to the yard about 2:00, and L. didn’t need to go out again. She put us on another ERV driven by N., who I didn’t know, with 2 crew members: T., and some guy who introduced himself as “P., the apostle”. Okay... There was some problem between them and the driver, (many snarky comments that seemed out of line), but we did all right. I felt bad for N., who seemed a little out of her depth, stuck with a couple crew people not at all inclined to make her life easier. We didn’t get back until 7:20. I didn’t really eat all day till after I got my shower.
So tired. Finish this tomorrow.

October 22, 2005

2006-10-06T05:38:00.000-04:00

My first day back on the ERVs. I lost my wonderful laminated map of NOLA, and despite a search of the trucks, can’t turn it up. Went to mention it to J. and she said, “Good luck”. And it’s a good thing, because she said, “Oh, I forgot to put you on the list” for an assignment. Christ. She sleeps right next to me, you’d think she could remember me.
Last night I had a lot of trouble getting through to call K.---the call kept dropping. When I finally got through he didn’t mention any problems on his end. Now I tried again and it’s started all over again. The problem appears to be with my company’s (Cingular’s) receiving end. They are the worst. J., who sleeps next to me, also has Cingular, and I had the same problem trying to call from his phone. Possibly there is work being done on the towers at home, but it’s a lonely feeling.
One of the things M. asked me when I was venting to her was if I had developed any friendships with anyone down here. Sadly, no. I try to get on with everyone, but I just can’t seem to become animated enough to want to hang with anyone. It’s been a problem all my life—not being able to form superficial relationships, easy alliances. I need to get to know someone well before I want to commit. Not a good way to relate in a situation like this. But small talk bores me and I feel awkward and artificial when I make it, even though I know it’s the first step toward establishing a relationship. Plus, it’s hard getting attached to someone as I started to do with J. and R., then seeing them go.
Oh, well. It’s cold and breezy today, just the opposite of yesterday’s hot and humid. I’ve spent as much time down here chilly as I have sweaty. Unexpected.

LATER (9:20 p.m.): Got in at 7:40 p.m. Had a real problem with my driver, M., who was so over-controlling and obsessive-compulsive, while trying to act as if he wasn’t. Scatter-brained while trying to run everything. A driver is an organizer, someone who oversees the operation, keeps it moving, and pitches in to help when and where needed. The crew should be left to handle the way the back is run. He jumped in, trying to do everything, and not trusting us to do any of it right. We were supposed to have 3 in the back, but lost 1 along the way, so it was me and C., a young Americorps volunteer, and M. It was a difficult day between us. I hope I don’t ride with him again. When we came back to clean the ERV he became really weird, and compulsively clean-freakish about it. When I tried to explain that we (the crew) had already cleaned the shelf on which the cambros sat, as he was about to clean them again, he actually ran his hand over the shelf repeatedly, looking for proof. The whole thing, which usually takes just 10 or 15 minutes, probably stretched out to a half hour. As a result, and with the new unproved protocol (clean the ERV and go back to the yard in the dark to load up on water and snacks) we got back much later than necessary---we unloaded our food at 5:00 p.m.) No matter what I said or did, it rubbed him the wrong way, and he kept saying he didn’t want to step on my toes. C. and I got along wonderfully. She learned fast and knew just what to do though it was only her first day. My conversation with her later made me sure the problem hadn’t been with me. And the more I tried to get him to tell me what he wanted me to do (so he could get his way) the worse things got.
I think this work naturally brings me into contact with men who don’t like to feel women are telling them what to do. I run into this more and more. K. pointed out that I’m not used to working with men who are bossy and maybe that’s why it’s hard for me to get used to this kind of entitlement that they carry around when they are with women.
On another note, the area we went into today, Lakeview, was truly a moonscape. Cars lying rear end up against trees, or across fences. People coming back to their houses to see them for the first time. It was a pretty well-to-do neighborhood, and it must have been pretty once. A man cleaning out his house and crying came up to the window of our ERV and spoke to me while sobbing about the ruination of the house. It was heartbreaking. I held his hand, put my hand on his shoulder, and cried with him. We were all in tears. I still can see him.
The doctor I saw was right. This area is in tremendous need. I told W. about it, and he was encouraging.
I feel bad about M. My second run-in with someone since I’ve been here.
I need to stop taking this so seriously.
I need a drink.

October 21, 2005

2006-09-14T13:07:00.000-04:00

I cranked most of the evening after that. It made me feel bad, acting that way, but it seems nothing gets through to our “supervisors” when someone tries to get their ear. This a.m. I’m on shelter chore duty. I just swept the entire floor and mopped half of it. Finally someone (no, two people) offered to help, and I’m letting them have the rest of it while I rest. I’ve been at it for 2 ½ hours, and I’m bushed.
I spoke to MH person M. this a.m. for over an hour in her car. It was a good hour. I explained all my concerns about the shelter and went over all the kvetches I’ve been making to others. Then explained that my concern is that I hate myself when I start talking like that---that I’d promised myself to remain aloof from all dramas, intrigues, and politics while here.
She validated how I felt, because she sees it, too, which made me feel better. She advised me to try to keep a sense of humor and to take care of my own needs.
Funny though, I’ve kind of lost interest in expressing my concerns to K., M., or J. I’ve lost interest in anything except making it through the next 9 days. The last 3 are non-work days---Friday, my next day off, Saturday, for outprocessing, and Sunday for the flight home. So it’s really only 6 more hard work days.
I can make it.

Life in a shelter is:

Discovering earplugs.
A constant search for privacy.
Overhearing all the little dramas and gossip that go on, and sometimes finding yourself pissed that you discover others conning the system or getting special treatment while you work so hard and play by the rules.
Discovering you’re on your own, even when you’re sick and depending on medical personnel to get you treatment.
Having a kitchen that makes only coffee and provides salty, starchy, sugary snacks as the primary food; getting ecstatic at the sight of tuna or a bag of lettuce.
Eating the food doled out on the trucks to the needy for dinner (and lunch if you’re on the ERV crew) and finding out how little the procurer/”dieticians” in charge of the menus care for the health or tastes of their clientele.
Unexpected kindnesses from people you don’t even know.

October 20, 2005

2006-09-13T06:17:00.000-04:00

I didn’t update yesterday’s entry because I didn’t get in until 9:05 p.m., and after showering & prep, into bed at 9:50. I was so exhausted I could hardly move. Stupid logistics, sending us out of the yard at 11:00 a.m., back in for a 2nd run at 5:00 p.m. to a place in Kenner (3rd & Fillmore) that hardly anyone was at, and to which a 2nd ERV had also been sent. Ended up going to CVS to get rid of over 200 meals, but by 8:00 p.m. there wasn’t many of them, either. Another ERV lost it’s inside lights and couldn’t serve, so they came by and gave us their food. They were kind enough to stay and help serve, but eventually we had to give up and go back.
Our driver, M., was good fun, and earlier took us for a ride around the broken levee (17th Street) and through the Bucktown neighborhood destroyed by it. I got some photos.
I was angry when I got back. They had ramped up to 2 or 3 times the number of meals we’d been serving when we first got here, and there are more than twice the ERVs now. Everything takes longer. The meals are numbers that make somebody look good, but the last couple days I’ve been out, enormous amounts of food have been wasted, and I don’t remember that happening. Plus the food is getting worse and worse, and the Baptists are having a harder time getting it.
So today is my day off, and I wake up with more deep yellow gunk coming out of my nose and chest, and yellow pus gluing my eyes shut. I spoke to the nurse, who wants to take me to the doctor. Nice way to spend the day off.

LATER: The nurse, N., was a chatterbox and kind of a scatterbrain, who couldn’t even find her list of clinics/doctors to take me to. I ended up calling around myself till I found a walk-in ER clinic. (I was in tears as I did this, feeling like utter shit and about to collapse any minute, feeling like I’d lost my last friend.) After a very long wait (they accidentally took someone else first who answered to my name, then continued to respond to it until they asked her straight out, “Are you X?” at which time she seemed to regain consciousness, but it was too late.) I saw the doc, who ran a test that was 85% positive for strep throat. I had visions of being sent home as a “Typhoid Mary”, but the nurse spoke to Public Health and someone else, both of them telling her it was not a concern. So I was given a cortisone shot, a couple prescriptions for amoxicillin and Allegra-D (allergy med w/decongestant in case I was having allergic reactions kicked up by the infection or the mung in NOLA) and a recommendation for a day of rest and fluids.
We stopped to get N. a meal and (this was before she told me I could stay) I looked at the menu thinking this could be my last chance to get a shrimp po’ boy, so I ordered one, with fries. Since I wasn’t the least bit hungry, it surprised me to finish the whole plate.
I’m full even now, at 8:00 p.m., and that will be my one and only meal of the day.
I picked up another $200 at the ATM since my bill at CVS came to $150 (and I have insurance!), most of it for the medication, plus some items for work.
In the meantime, concerns continue, as people are sent out on fools’ errands with too much food, too late, and the waste piles up. Neither management nor volunteers understand each others’ concerns, and a number of volunteers who have spoken to J., M. or K. feel they have been ignored or given the brush off. If management is under stress and pushed into making decisions or enforcing quotas that seem unworkable...
It’s bad enough sending people on 2nd runs at 5:00 in the evening. People working 10-12 hour days, physically punishing days, have a hard time keeping up that pace, but if the results seem worth it, at least morale is kept up. But to send people out to work that kind of schedule only to see their work wasted, again and again, is to guarantee disillusionment and anger, not to mention loss of interest and focus on the main goal---to feed people who need it.
Cars pull up in the yard waiting to load cambros that aren’t ready, only to prevent the cars at the end of the line from loading snacks and water. Maybe time could be conserved by simply sending them through all the way when the H2O and snacks are loaded, and making a full circle back to the cambros, by which time the first pallets might be ready to load, and the cambro-loading could be done more by then, as well.
I’m so glad I’m not going home.

NOTE: The shelter meeting, postponed from yesterday, is now being held almost an hour late. The so-called “guest” expected with such ballyhoo failed to appear (was it the President of the ARC?) So the shelter manager wants to know if everyone had an “awesome day”. Everyone obligingly assented for the cameraman from HQ who has been circulating amongst us. Did I mention how they got us a large-screen TV just before the “visit”? Which replaced the donated, battered, rabbit-eared one that we got shortly after I arrived? And one of the first things we saw on the TV was a report on how the NOLA cops had beaten up some poor schmuck in front of some ARC volunteers, and when they tried to help him, the cops threatened to arrest them?
R brings up morning routine: “How to save time?” “Leave earlier!”

I forgot to mention the handmade signs we saw along W. Esplanade Ave. today: “Evacuate Broussard” “Thanks, Aaron”. Jefferson Parish is pissed at the man who cried for them on Meet the Press. I’ll have to ask the residents why.

Useful info gleaned from the meeting from a case management worker: way to get shelter placement---call 337.281.xxxx. If they have a LA identification and can find a hotel room, they can just say “Bill it to the Red Cross”.

October 19, 2005

2006-09-12T05:22:00.000-04:00

For some reason, the last 2 days have dragged endlessly, and it seems impossible that it’s only the 19th. Had the worst coughing spell yet last night about 3 a.m. This morning my throat doesn’t hurt so bad, but my nose seems to be running.
Today the president of the Red Cross is supposed to cruise into town, and management is all a-twitter. J. asked me to postpone my day off because of this, and I agreed. So I’ll take tomorrow off. The driver that drove me nuts, T., as well as several other new ones, have been taken off driving for awhile until they can be trained by observation. I’m going out with one of the drivers from Algiers, M. Crew includes P., another driver who needs to learn the ropes, and who yesterday ran into a telephone pole. I’m glad the word on T. confirmed my own experience.
My run today is Bucktown in the a.m., and 3rd and Fillmore in the p.m., both outside of NOLA. J. and R. said the latter site is beautiful in the evening, right at a levee overlooking the Mississippi River west, and that the sunset there is spectacular.
Yesterday, based on reports, was chaos: between the additional logistics of loading twice the ERVs that were here when I arrived, and the lack of training of the new crews and drivers, a lot of food was wasted, as well as time. At the yard I watched J. trying to herd crews and make the ERVs move out. Crew members came to sit in the tent and chat or eat instead of staying with their vehicles. This, plus problems getting supplies of food for us and the Baptists, made for a bad day.
From what I can gather, the word passes down from on high how many meals to serve, We were supposed to ramp up from about 5000-6000 to 10,000-15,000. But the way it’s supposed to be counted is: the driver makes the count before the run, after telling the crew what to get and how much at the yard. At the end of the run, s/he counts again. But the sheets used for this have not been used, except once or twice, meaning the count at the end of the run can be whatever driver and crew decide on. Most often clamshells used makes the hot meal count, and boxes of snacks & water used makes the rest. But it’s been very haphazard.
Plus, the temperature of the food is supposed to be monitored so that hot food doesn’t fall below 140 degrees. Only certain drivers make sure this occurs. Others think it’s unnecessary---though it’s in the ERV Driver training. This only becomes an issue when an all-day run is made, since it’s twice the food at one time.
So what happens is, it’s in everyone’s interest to keep the count up, so the ARC can look good. The idea is to “use the meals”, which means if you can’t get rid of them at one site, move to another, or mobile feed. Sometimes not keeping close records becomes a way to fudge the count, which is why management doesn’t seem particular about enforcing the record-keeping rule.
Now, what political opportunism has propelled the ARC president down here is unknown to me. But you can bet that’s what it is. I’ve been saying since I got here that the higher-ups needed to be down here in mobile communication trucks, visiting the sites and making personal assessments. But I doubt that’s what this will be. More likely a few stops at staging areas and meeting with supervisors, then off to D.C. or wherever.
Cynical, I know.
Ah, the sun rises. 7:25 a.m. I’m in the playing field. I better get some loratidine into me.

October 18, 2005

2006-09-11T06:22:00.000-04:00

This a.m. I got up later than ever: 6:30. I dragged about rather uselessly. J.M., who leaves tomorrow, outprocessed today, and R. rigged it with her to teach me to drive an ERV. So hopefully that will happen. If not, I just pray T. is not my next driver.
I went to the Yard, as they call the kitchen behind the church, with J. this a.m. and puttered about. Then I got a ride back to the shelter to wait for J.M., who expected to be back at 1:00 p.m., but now it’s 2:20 and she’s not back.
My head is killing me. I’m on a cot I dragged outside next to the shelter so I could lay down. They were mopping the floor inside, and all our things had to be placed on top of the cots.
My head hurts and my throat is killing me.

LATER:
After 10 p.m. the lights still aren’t out because some new Americorps kids have arrived. Just went to Baton Rouge with J. (who got back too late to train me) to take D., a psychotic but a nice one, and R. to the airport. Had a burger and fries at a Jack in the Box, and a pleasant time.

October 18, 2005

2006-09-11T06:21:00.000-04:00

October 17, 2005

2006-09-08T09:37:00.000-04:00

My cold was so bad that when I woke up at 3 a.m. to pee, I never fell back to sleep. Laying down just makes my nose stuff and run and I can’t stop coughing. I’ve never worked this hard while being sick. I feel better being up and about, but I know I’m going to crash when I get back today. R. who will be leaving Wednesday, told me she recommended me to J. M. for her crew when J. asked, so if that happens, I’ll be going back into the 9th Ward.
This morning I walked into the section of the parking lot between us and the road, and to the west, still dark, I saw the just-waning moon, full and in extreme detail. The stars above, chased by the rising sun, still shone. I could make out Orion’s belt. Then, when I turned to the east to walk back to the building, I saw bright layers of magenta and orange laying on the horizon, harbingers of the yet unseen sun. It was such a remarkable combination of sights that I called the guard over to show him. He said, “You’re from the city, right?”
Last night, J., the newly-made assistant supervisor, did not sleep in her cot. R., whom she asked to move next to her, said she had spent the night in the hotel in Harvey (just south of NOLA), where M. and K. stay. He noted that certain of the group go there, and had a kind of fatherly concern for her. She’s old enough to know what she’s getting into. While we’re on the subject of shelter behavior, there’s an odd incidence of some of the 20-somethings getting into bed together in the morning and before lights out.
I’m too old or too weary or too something to concern myself about much that goes on here. It seems to operate much along the lines of a sleepaway camp. Cliques, special privileges, high school stuff. I guess I expected more from the people who volunteered. Between this and the management/organizational/communication problems the agency has, I begin to understand why some folks have turned off so badly. I’ve lost interest in learning to drive the ERVs. I don’t even care whether I stay on a crew. Just so long as I don’t have to be sent on pointless travels from pillar to post with nothing to do, I’ll be content.
Wednesday is my day off and I’ve put in for a car.

LATER:
Short entry, as I am now sicker than ever and completely exhausted. They put me on an ERV with a completely inexperienced crew and driver, and I had to hold the driver’s hand through everything, including the light check. Plus I had to navigate us to the site, Municipal Auditorium in Louis Armstrong Park, downtown NOLA next to the French Quarter. We got off I-10 too soon, but drove right next to the Superdome. Not quite deserted, but the traffic was closer to 3 in the morning than a Monday rush hour. Things look sad.
I did so much work, my own and everyone else’s and the driver, T., did very, very little, and it was an extended run with no midday break, so it was tiring. I think it put me over the edge.
J. is not sending me out tomorrow. And Wednesday is my day off. Maybe I can recover.

October 16, 2005

2006-09-07T06:09:00.000-04:00

One week. 6 days in ERVs. Just as I’ve gotten to know folks, they are leaving. It was a very good day---2 runs to an assisted living home and a needy neighborhood. Happy people, so happy to see us. So many “God blesses” and I really love these people. They are truly a breed apart.
I’m tired and sick. Yes, sick, I admit it. My throat has been sore since last Thursday, and the infection in my chest/head keeps getting worse. I refuse to let it stop me. Everyone here has a cough or worse, it seems.
So tired. I keep wanting to write about things---the dragonflies, the moon, the look of the place, the plants---but I never seem to get to it.
Lights out, 5 minutes. I didn’t use to stay up this late. It was the diet cola.

October 15, 2005

2006-09-06T17:51:00.000-04:00

The month is half gone. Nonsense abounds here in the sleep-away camp/state hospital atmosphere of the Red Cross shelter. Some folks moved on this a.m., after being shunted around for 4 days to 3 other shelters. Others may have moved in—I don’t know anymore.

This morning as I was getting ready to leave on my a.m. run, one of the crew, a guy who calls himself “V.”, who I worked with on 2 other runs, came up to me and told me I was rude, my behavior was unacceptable, I wasn’t a supervisor but I acted like one, and he wasn’t going to put up with it anymore. I thought he was joking and asked him if he was. He was serious. Saying I tried to boss everyone around. I was stunned. I had grown to dislike him during the last run we had together, but his take on me was like a blindside punch. I was stunned, not the least by the poisonous way he talked and the near-hate in his expression. I immediately went to J. and told her I would no longer work with him. She asked if I wanted moved to another crew, or wanted him moved. I said to leave it to R., the driver, and the upshot was he was moved while I stayed. Such weirdness.
Tempers are short and people behave in odd ways here. Rather than a group of adults who have thrown in their lot together to help others, the group sometimes seems more like a bunch of special needs kids in a state home. Not everyone. But enough so that the drama extends to the supervisors and managers.

I’ve been here (in LA) a week now, and done 5 runs. I’m beginning to feel like a long-timer.
The place is packed with cots.
Still fighting off what feels like bronchitis. This a.m. my sputum came out very deep yellowish-green, a sign of infection, and I have been somewhat hoarse-sounding. I try not to let it get me down. I keep telling myself I’m getting better everyday.
K. went to spend the weekend at Wildwood with J & H. I keep forgetting it’s Satuday.
I’m getting used to the devastation all around me. Today we were at the “Katrina Dump” by accident.

The workers there were talking to each other about casualties, and I think they are still pulling bodies out of the wreckage. This was only a few miles from my shelter.

October 14, 2005

2006-09-04T19:01:00.000-04:00

I have postcards to send, but forgot about them.
Today things took a delightfully interesting turn. 3 of the older folks, R.(one of my drivers), L. (who worked with me a couple times), and La. (who lent me the eyeglasses kit) invited me to go on a sightseeing trip. R.’s ERV (I was on it today) was sent back after just one run, leaving me half a day to do something else. L. invited me, and I said yes.
Luckily, they stopped at Wal-Mart first, where I got my glasses fixed, got some fabulous maps, and some extra t-shirts. The place was inundated with shoppers, being one of the first major places to open in the area, and the lines stretched back halfway to the interior of the store. Only by sheer luck did I end up in a line that no one seemed to know existed, at the far end of the store, and was thus able to get out in less than an hour. Then we drove to NOLA and across the Causeway, the longest bridge in the world they said, that spans Lake Ponchartrain. We then turned east to Slidell, and then back down to NOLA via Rt. 10, which had been closed till today. The part of it that is bridge is actually 2 bridges, going north and south, and the northern bound bridge has great chunks of it missing from the flood waters of the Mississippi.

We drove down through vast swaths of devastated land across the Bayou Sauvage. There were dead animals---cows, deer, alligator—and broken, flooded cars. A boat lay upside-down by the road; a yacht!! Long stretches of city were vacant.

Nothing moved. Brick walls were torn asunder.

I have become so accustomed to wreckage everywhere I look.
So, eventually we turned back north on 610 and headed back to Metairie, next to Kenner, in search of a Steak & Ale the others had been to once before. After a brief sidetrack while lost, we finally found it. What a treat! L. and I had strawberry margaritas, La. had a Bloody Mary and a C & C, and I ate salad (at last! Greens!!) and a Bourbon Street NY Strip cooked in bourbon and brown sugar, with garlic mashed. After the food we’d been eating, it was heaven.
I got plenty of gossip about the bizarre behavior of current and past volunteers, and a sense of how rampant drinking and fucking around are.
What a drag. The place is a mess so far as management, and and now we have even more new people. The place is beyond packed. M., the supervisor, had some kind of nervous breakdown and put J., who came down with me, in charge for 24 hours while he disappeared.
Chaos. Looms.

October 13, 2005

2006-09-02T15:00:00.000-04:00

Evening, sometime---Time drifts into limbo here. It’s easy to forget what day it is. Today I didn’t go to NOLA. New ERV, new driver, 3 of the same crew as yesterday.
Since yesterday my throat and chest have bothered me, since going into NOLA. Today it was worse. Mold spores in the air there can set off instant bronchitis, and that’s how this feels. I’m fighting it. Today they told us the health and safety people insist on stringent control of contaminants when people come back from NOLA, meaning shoes must be dipped in bleach, and clothes must remain outside the shelter till they have been cleaned.
Today was exhausting. I can hardly write. Everything hurts. It will take awhile before my body adapts and starts to get stronger, but I don’t think I will be the same person I was when I get back.
We got something like 30 new people yesterday, and are getting more today. Like us they come in with their ready-made friendships, but unlike us they doon’t readily adapt. They got up this morning and made too much noise before 7:00 (the official “lights on” time in the shelter). Last night there was too much noise after lights-out. A guy moved in next to me and snored like a horror. Thank God someone got me earplugs. On top of that, I broke my glasses (fixed now with tape), my throat and chest were killing me, and my head ached. I didn’t get to sleep until after 11:00, and I’m usually gone before lights out (10 p.m.).
Must find an optician to fix my glasses.
Funny thing…in the middle of feeding a neighborhood, I must have accidentally hit a speed-dial button on my cell phone, because suddenly D.E. was on the phone while I was trying to plate food. I explained what happened and quickly got off. They want you to keep your phone with you at all times if you have one, so they can reach you or your ERV. Most times Dispatch can call up on the truck radios, but once in NOLA they don’t work anymore, and the only way to contact them is by phone.
Of course, the fact that cell service is spotty and intermittent doesn’t help, either.
Good grief.

October 12, 2005

2006-09-01T05:59:00.000-04:00

9:00 p.m.---I can’t believe I’m only just now writing. Today I went into New Orleans’ 9th Ward with a new driver, R, and crew: J., L. and “”V.” It was a problematic trip. We were sent to a Naval Support base to feed the troops, who turned out to have catered their food and had no need of us.

Our dreams of a mobile feeding crashed when we realized it was the base we were being sent to. (Management hadn’t bothered to tell us till after we got there.) Even though we’d been briefed with scary stories, given 600 meals for an all-day trip, and warned to wear respirator masks and not to get out of the truck for any reason whatsoever, we took advantage of the otherwise pointless stopover at the base to use the bathroom, and gave the guards some fruit for their trouble.
This was extremely disappointing. When this turned out to be a bust we got permission to cruise the street we were assigned, which turned into a cruise of the neighborhood.

(All communication had to be via our private cell phones because the truck radio systems, as we discovered, did not reach from dispatch in Kenner into NOLA. The problem is, cell phone service down here--across the entire area---is really problematic, too. You never know when you'll get through.) We were able to feed some folks, but there were very few there aside from some military personnel sitting in the streets and a group of folks with masks on gamely trying to sweep up an intersection. "V" completely ignored the directionswe'd been given and jumped out of the truck, carrying food up to people and running around in the streets. We ended up getting back on I-10 and trekking east across NOLA and back,

then back into Kenner to what may have been a FEMA distribution center at a church, where we unloaded everything.
I’m pretty tired. It was a long, long day. Started at 5:30 a.m. when I got up, ended when I got back to the shelter about 7:15 p.m. The devastation was endless. And vast, and numbing. Being able to do some good was healing. And when I got back I ended up being a shoulder to cry on for the assistant shelter manager (J., one of the women I rode down from Baton Rouge with—her cot is beside mine). I also told M., the supervisor, that I wanted to get certified to drive the ERVs while I was there, and he seems open to it.
So tired. More in a.m.

October 11, 2005

2006-08-31T04:21:00.000-04:00

7:45 a.m.---My first day on the job. Assigned to an ERV with L.B., driver. None of the folks I came down here with will be on the truck. Hope I do well, We’re going to Fat City, someplace in or near Metarie. No one can tell me much about it.
Woke up at 5:00 a.m., got into the bathroom and cleaned up before the rush. Slept okay---probably not as well as the night before last, but only because I was so dead tired back then.

7:30 p.m.---Back from the shower, clean, and amazingly, ready to pass out. The showers have only cold water, and it was my first time in them. Before that, we got back to the shelter about 6:15 and I had a hot meal, the first in 2 days. No, not true; I ate at 2:00 this afternoon as well.
We went out with our driver L., a very sweet young woman, and the routine runs like this:
Assignments are posted on the wall in the morning telling everyone which ERV they will be on and with which driver (usually 3-4 workers are assigned to a driver, but the crews and drivers are reshuffled to different trucks everyday.). You sign out for the day and head out to the parking lot to do a run-through of the ERV checklist: lights, gas, etc., and check the inside for what supplies you’ll need when you get to the yard.

You drive to the kitchen, the big outdoor kitchen run by the local 1st Baptist big motherfucking megachurch. They are very kind and cheerful. You pick up your supplies there in the yard, which include bread and fruit and snacks and water, then get the cambros, which are massive plastic heatproof coolers into which big bags of prepared food are poured. You haul all this stuff into the back of the truck and pack it in, in the most logistically-sound way, strap down the cambros, and you’re off. Sometimes you get MREs to supplement the food, but most of those go on the box trucks, which are driven around to specific sites where they and cases of water are handed out. You usually do 2 runs, one in the morning and one in the afternoon, and take 300 meals out on each run.
Today we served fruit cocktail and beef stew in the first run (about 10 a.m.-12 p.m.), and chicken tenders & patties, green beans, and chocolate-acrylic pudding material in the second (around 3 p.m.-5 p.m.). After each run we take the ERV to the dumpsters across from the church and get rid of the garbage, then drive to the kitchen and unload the cambros, then either pick up more, or clean the utensils and head home, where we scrub down the inside of the ERV and get it ready for the next day. All day while inside the ERV you are cleaning cleaning cleaning up constantly, as food service is a messy business, especially in a moving vehicle, and constantly making bags of fruit and snacks to give out at the back of the truck, or filling foam clamshells with hot food to give out at the side window. You may do a stationary feeding, where you sit in one place till you run out of food, or you may do a mobile feeding, moving slowly through a neighborhood watching for anyone in need while the driver calls people out over the loudspeaker. The work is hot, heavy, and hard, and you are on your feet almost non-stop from the moment you enter the truck till you get back to the shelter.
This morning I helped R. bag oranges, apples, & bottles of water to pass out to the people who came for the meals. Then, when we had all the fruit bagged, I helped plate food into clamshells with L. and LD. R.’s wife N. served the food from the window of the ERV. It was much the same in the afternoon, except R. handled the fruit and water himself while I stayed in the truck plating food.

I helped load and unload, get rid of garbage, and set up and tear down. At the end of the day on our way back, we had to stop at a car wash and clean the truck. Usually the crew washes down the inside when they get back to the shelter, but it was mostly done when we arrived because while L. and I worked on the outside at the car wash, R., N. and LD. had done all but the floor inside.
Now I’m getting more tired by the minute. I’ll be sore tomorrow, and I have numerous bruises.
The exciting thing is that we (meaning not me, but a few experienced members of our shelter and one ERV) went into the 9th Ward of Orleans Parish for the first time today, with the long-awaited permission of the city. They hope that we will all be in there by the end of the week. We are tremendously excited. The 9th Ward is the very worst, ground zero of the destruction. People who’ve seen it say you’ll never forget it. We are needed desperately. They sent a team in today with double supplies and 3 mental health people. I imagine we’ll hear all about it at the briefing tomorrow. The managers hold a briefing meeting every morning prior to the day’s work, right after the assignments are posted. Managers are supposed to be riding through the neighborhoods determining where the need is, and in consultation with the drivers and ERV workers, make the decisions where to send us, how many runs to schedule, and how many meals we should take.
What was Fat City like? Like so much of the rest of the area, great swaths of destruction side by side with seemingly untouched buildings. A poor area, with titty bars on all sides (at least where we were), but some nice-looking restaurants, too. Not a place you’d like to be alone in, day or night. We pulled into an abandoned corner gas station, and people were already waiting for food before we were even set up. Some came by and sat in their cars just looking at us, waiting for curb service. We just looked back. Many were workers; the area is filled with restoration companies, insurance adjusters, “hurricane relief teams”, and others. Lots of Latinos, including migrants. Luckily, R. and N. are Puerto Rican and speak fluent Spanish, which came in very handy.
Signs pop up like mushrooms all along the highways and at intersections, advertising jobs, cleaning and restorations services, loans, or simply the fact that businesses that were here before the hurricane are back and re-opened again.

Places that look fine turn out to be closed or moved. Places that look devastated are putting handmade signs in the windows or on the streets that say “open”. Sometimes there’s no sense to it.

Everywhere they sell “Drive-Through Daiquiris”.

I was hoping I would lose weight from the work, but I eat like a horse.

Too tired to go on. Maybe I’ll turn in early.

October 10, 2005

2006-08-31T04:20:00.000-04:00

8:05 a.m., Columbus Day, Staging Area---Dropped like a stone last night around 7:30 p.m. Somebody passing my cot said I looked like a dead woman. The shelter was in a church, set up for both volunteers and the displaced. The community room and meeting had been divided into 3 large sections: male, female, and co-ed. The women’s section had one tiny narrow window and was so dark I could hardly find my way around. I opted for the well-lit co-ed section, where there was food and a big-screen TV. Restrooms were very decent. Never did use the Hazmat shower, which everyone complained was too cold. Got a ride back to headquarters at 7:00 a.m. It’s now 8:15 and I’m still useless. I did get an official apron. I’m nervous about driving the box trucks—24 feet long. Maneuvering is an issue, and they’re diesel. Leave them running. Let them warm up a bit before turning them on. Told my assigner at Feeding I’d never driven anything that big. He didn’t seem concerned.
Now they’re saying lots of folks are needed again at Kenner. I get the feeling this may be a real horror show. More scary stories about it from others today.

10:45 a.m.---En Route to Kenner by way of Belle Chasse with a vanful of partners. S. and J. are the other women. R., J., S., JM., and A are the 5 men. They’ve been together since Montgomery, staying in hotels for 3 days, and have bonded very closely. Now I’m with them.
Our driver is a Latino from the Midwest who worked for Wal-Mart, and who asked them to transfer him down here so he could volunteer to help. They did, and now he works all day for them, and on his days off and after work he drives the van and does other odd jobs for ARC. And this is the kind of guy they underpay and force onto the Medicaid rolls.
R. says we’re supposed to drive food to the folks in the field. Supposed to be primitive conditions. He says this with relish.

1:30 p.m.---Drove past Kenner (Jefferson Parish) into New Orleans past the Superdome, on the very highway where they turned back the hurricane victims to keep them from “infecting” Gretna.

Too much mess to describe right now.

Came into Belle Chasse, stopped for lunch at Subway (one of the few places available to get food), arrived at the Best Western 10 blocks away from more “in-processing”. Waiting now for a ride back to Kenner. I’m getting to a point where I’m ready to give up trying to control anything---just send me somewhere and put me to work.

6:55 p.m., Susan Park Gymnasium---Kenner at last. This is the dream job. M., the shelter head-something, says it is the elite shelter. We will be doing ERV (Emergency Response Vehicle) work, delivering hot meals, water, and snacks to people, loading and unloading the trucks, and learning to drive them. They hope to be able to get into NOLA sometime, somehow, because currently the authorities refuse to let us cross into the parrish to deliver food.
Went through NOLA twice. Even though it’s bad here and everywhere we went, it’s nothing compared to the mess on the other side of the 17th St. levee, where we’ve been told the toxicity of the sludge combined with the rampant dead bodies of animals (and possibly still people) makes it dangerous to go near.

The atmosphere in the shelter, which is only for volunteers, is amazingly collegial, moreso than any place I’ve been so far. We eat mostly snack foods because the daily meals are from what goes out in the ERVs. Not a lot of micromanaging here. Cold showers in the shower truck. Pretty laissez-faire with the maintenance. Supposed to be over 80 of us here, but so far the number showing up has been sparse. Co-ed like Our Lady. My cot is much higher than yesterday, and it’s easier to get out of bed. Did I mention it’s inside a gymnasium? So if we want to get up a baseball game in the field beside us, it’s no problem. But watch out for the fire ants.
I helped feed some folks today on a brief run with M. to let the newbies see how it’s done. Just handed out MREs and water, but it felt really good. Just like this assignment.

How It Begins

2006-08-31T04:17:00.000-04:00

Fuck you, George Bush.

Welcome to America.

The following is a diary (including a few blog posts) related to my stint as a volunteer that I kept after Katrina hit the Gulf Coast. I spent a mere 3 weeks in NOLA, working for the Red Cross as one of the first people to enter the city limits in an ERV to feed the neighborhoods. I entered the Lower Ninth Ward on the 2nd day that the Red Cross was allowed to go into the city limits. In honor of the anniversary, I 'll be posting it over the next few weeks.

Friday, September 30, 2005
I Wish I Was In New Orleans

Yesterday I spent all day in an expedited training in preparation to go south to do disaster assistance work with the Red Cross in the hurricane areas. The standard Disaster Assistance training takes days, and normally volunteers require some local experience responding to disaster incidents, before they can be sent off to a national disaster site. But as the trainers told us, this is the worst natural disaster to have ever hit the U.S., stretching over more than 90,000 square miles, and many of the olf protocols and practices have been streamlined in order to get aid to the survivors as quickly as possible.

I still have to get my doctor to sign off on a health status form to assure them I won't keel over dead while I'm down there. We will probably deploy within 2 weeks, but likely much sooner, to either Baton Rouge, Biloxi, or Jackson (not certain about Texas). I don't know where I will be going once I get to the staging area I'll be assigned, nor what I will be doing exactly. I asked to do bulk distribution, that is, travelling around the damaged areas in an ERV to deliver meals and/or supplies and check on the survivors' needs (my first choice), or I may do feeding, sheltering, or casework. They told us we could request specialties, but need to be flexible, as we will probably do a little of everything as needed, and will be put wherever they need us.

Regardless of what happens, I doubt I will have access to a computer, or that I will have the time to post anything if I do. People who were there during the worst of it spoke at the training session to tell us what they experienced, and as has come out the last few days, the reports of dangers and shootings and criminal behavior were very much overblown. But they worked 20 hour shifts, and slept in sleeping bags on the shelter floors, and the temps were 95 degrees with 80% humidity and bugs from hell, and people are traumatized and angry and in need of much patience and understanding. The weather and the bugs, they told us, will probably be the same till mid to late October. We may stay in hotels--there is more of that now--and electricity and water are available more widely, or we may be put in shelters. The shifts will probably be closer to 8 to 12 hours than 20. It's much better now than it was a few weeks ago. Traveling down will require going light, so I'll pretend I'm going backpacking. Toilet paper, insect repellent, sunscreen, and every expectation of living in dirty clothes for much of the time...sounds like the woods to me, except that I will have my cell phone with me at all times, as they recommended.

Don't think that just because a few weeks have passed that things are almost wrapped up. On hearing about me going down, some have said, "Oh, I thought they stopped sending people down there." They haven't, obviously. They need volunteers badly. The Red Cross chapter I will be part of, Southeastern PA or SEPA, is the 2nd largest in the country, and they have only gotten 90 people down there since Katrina hit, for 2-3 week stints. That's just 2 waves of volunteers. They expect to need people at this level through December, and the holiday season may be a time of even greater need. In Philly alone they have been working with over 700 families displaced by the storms, and over 600 of those came up here on their own without government or NGO aid. Just this morning the NYTimes reported that FEMA has only been able to house 109 families from Louisiana, which means hundreds of thousands remain homeless and in shelters and hotels.

Anyway, that's the situation so far. I have my employers to thank for allowing me to take this time off when it comes, and for paying me for it while I'm gone; otherwise I would never be able to afford to do it. It's a gift that's been offered to me, so I want to make it a gift to the people of the hurricane. I know many, possibly most people, are unable to afford the time away from work or their families, and this kind of work is not for everyone. But if you can possibly do it, if you are physically and emotionally and financially able to do it, please consider volunteering. The need is desperate.
More updates as the time gets closer.

Thursday, October 06, 2005
Good Night And Good Luck
If you read my previous post on the subject, you know I signed up to do Red Cross disaster assistance for the hurricane survivors. Well, today I got the call, and at the ungodly hour of 5:40 a.m. on Sunday morning I'll be leaving Philly for Baton Rouge. That's the staging area I'm being sent to, and the place whose hurricane damage Bill Clinton, upon his visit there Tuesday, called "astonishing." I heard him talking about it on the radio, and in a few brief minutes he spoke more sense about the disaster and its ramifications for the region and the country than I have ever heard come out of George Bush's mouth in 5 endless years of stumping and photo ops.

Anyway, I'll be away for 3 weeks, so this my temporary sign-off till I get back in November. Lately I've missed a lot of great opportunities to write loud and bitter polemicals against the increasing stupidities of the age, and now it's too late. And I'll miss being here for my favorite month of the year, and my traditional October reading of stories of the supernatural on my daily commute. I'll miss my family, and my home, and my pets, and all the old familiar things that I usually bitch so much about. And it's kind of scary, not knowing what lies ahead, or what people will think of me when I get there.

Then I think that the people who suffered through the storms are also missing many of those same things, and the difference is that I'll get to come back to my life and my precious things pretty much the way I left them, whereas those folks will never be able to. And the people who have been uprooted and forced to disperse to strange places where they have no friends or family are also scared, and the stakes in not knowing what to expect are so much higher for them.

So I think I'll just shut up now, and wrap this up. Wish me bonne chance, and that I can make myself useful.

The Diary
Sunday, October 9, 2005---Philly to Atlanta

6:05 a.m.---Left home at 4:00 a.m. K. drove me to the airport. Missing everything. Yesterday felt like a condemned woman, trying to enjoy what she could for the last time. I hate to leave him alone for so long. Never been away from him this long in 30 years.
Flight was scheduled to leave @ 5:40 a.m. Even so, the number of people waiting to check in was horrendous, and they all had weeks’ worth of baggage. Luckily the Delta employee announced all those with “E” tickets could move over to the kiosk check-in, which was much sparser. However, the fancy computer self-service was not finding me, and it turned out the system had me as “R.”, and my driver’s license read as “R. X.”. Once that was cleared up I proceeded to the security check (take off your jacket, leave your shoes on), then on to the gate.
Last called, seat assignment at the last minute, and they overbooked. I feared the worst, but instead got a 1st class seat on the aisle (2C). Luxury! The flight to Baton Rouge, though, looks like steerage. At least it’s short.

9:45 a.m.---About ½ hour delay due to traffic on the runway. Lots of sleepy people on this flight. From the conversations overheard here and in the airport, many may be with the Red Cross or similar agencies. Other people seem to be flying home, or off to visit friends or family.
The clouds never fail to amaze me, no, enchant me, when I fly. Looking out on their endless banks you can forget what they are. They look so solid—sometimes like stretches of Antarctic ice and sea, broken by small icebergs. Or dark, hulking mountains on a horizon of lakes and hills. They are always remarkable.
K. prevailed on me to wear my anorak before leaving since it was cool and rainy, and all I could think of was how hot it would be in LA. But the trip has been chilly---the airports, the planes---and I’m glad to have it. I called him from Atlanta just to say high.
I’m so sleepy. I feel like I’ve been sedated.

12:15 a.m.---Staging area, Baton Rouge, at the old (read “ex-“) Wal-Mart. They put me in “Feeding” and sent me off to get my photo ID. I have to participate in the orientation before I can be assigned anywhere. I kept saying to the woman who processed me, I wanted to do Bulk Distribution. She said “They need you in Feeding.” So off I went. When I went to talk to the supervisor of that section, she said they could use people who could drive, and could I drive a box truck? Well, I said, yes, though I’ve never driven one in my life. But she didn’t say “Did you ever drive a box truck?” Only whether I could. Well, I’ll give it a try. It’s what I get for insisting on trying to have it my own way when I should have said “Put me where you need me.”
Walking around the place. It’s set up like some kind of cheesy health fair, but the breadth & depth of the services is amazing, for both infrastructuring and staff support. All our luggage is living under a couple tents inside a fenced area that looks to be where Wal-Mart once had its garden center.
I wander like a lost soul. Won’t know where I’m going until after orientation, and maybe not even then if I don’t get picked. Means staying in a shelter here overnight.

1:30 p.m.---Had a very nice BBQ chicken lunch thanks to the efforts of the local union (Electricians/AFL-CIO). Found out I’m going with 5 others to Kenner, just outside of New Orleans. From one staffer I heard it was bad: depressing, hard times for the folks there. On the other hand, other staffers said it was great: a hot shower truck, great food, next door to the police, near the NOLA airport.
This is the closest I’m going to get to being right inside the city. I’m pleased.
7:30 p.m.---Our Lady of Mercy Shelter, Baton Rouge. Since I had to complete orientation before leaving, and they couldn’t wait for me, they sent off a vanful of folks to Kenner without me. I got sent here to spend the night, and have to return tomorrow by 8:00 a.m. to the staging area (Headquarters) for a new assignment. They need to send people to Covington, directly opposite NOLA on Lake Ponchartrain, and as of 3:20 today, that looked the most likely. But who knows?
I had dinner with two older women this evening, both case managers, S., originally from Wales, and C., who told me she spent much of her time in Lafayette and at the Cajundome in a smaller version of the Superdome/Astrodome paradigm. They had her running a 70 mile circuit every day in a rental car, starting at 6:00 a.m. when she got up in her little motel room and set out, ending at the Cajundome to do 3 hour meetings with Family Services people. Got back about 10 p.m. Exhausting. She had the day off yesterday (we’re supposed to get 1 day off every 7 days), and spent it traveling around Lake Charles. She said the devastation was endless—for miles and miles, as far as they could travel, trees flattened or twisted into impossible shapes, building simply vanished!
A woman is just now saying she’s working at the River Center. Others saying I thought they were closing that. She saying no one told me. They’re down to 6000+ residents from over 11,000.
The food down here is all sugar and salt and fat. C., S. and I went to a place called Piccadilly’s a jumped-up cafeteria with pretensions to a clubbiness hopelessly destroyed by bad paintings and absurd Jetsonesque chandeliers.
Tired.