One Brick New Orleans Trip

hi everyone,

i know that many of us were extremely fortunate to have had the
opportunity to sit and listen to Steve Gonzalez (one of the st. bernard locals) hold court at and after dinner
last week. his story is one that is impossible to forget and
impossible to ignore. like many of us, i heard him tell his story
several times. you would think it would get old. not true. steve
neared tears each night as he spoke about his wife and his community
center. in retelling his stories, the strength and emotion behind them
only got stronger.

if you didn't get a chance to spend time with steve, or you just feel
like you need to be with him again, here's an interview.....

http://www.wpkn.org/go/forest/audio2007/forest_trees_may2007.mp3

best,
mick

(As written on Monday for another blog...)

I'm back from New Orleans, but I think that I left something there. I only actually realized it when I got to my office this morning, and sat down at my desk for the first time in 9 days. There was something important missing-- my hammer.

Well, not my hammer per se, but a hammer. For 4 days, I walked around with that faithful companion hanging my side, rapping against my knee with each step.

The first day was spent gutting an old clinic. For two years the majority had been untouched. Two of the three buildings saw the light of day for the first time in 2 years. The third was partially gutted, and flooding from a broken water main inside. The environment was on the toxic side, so everyone working on the site was suited in white plastic overalls, gas masks, goggles, hardhats, and plastic shoe covers. Shoveling and dumping wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of refuse seemed fruitless for hours-- you make a dent in the garbage collecting in the hallway from the hard work everyone is doing, and it gets filled right back up. But at some point, there was a break in the tide, and suddenly, the building was empty. Quite possibly, I had never physically worked so hard in my life, but frankly, that was easy work; just manual labor. Nature in all her fungal and rotting glory, cockroaches and spiders, had taken that place back: it became a human artifact from a time past.

Nothing like the next four days.

The second through fifth days were spent in a devastated neighborhood still full of life. Every hour that I was on the job, radios were blaring hip-hop and classic rock, hammers were wailing, brushes slapping on paint, saws cutting, people dancing, singing, walking, and driving by greeting each other. This from early morning to after the sun had gone down.

What's so hard about that? Knowing that the Grandma whose house we were working on had to wait two years to come home to a neighborhood where her community might not be when she gets there, or ever be again. Estimates say that it may be another three or five years for the rebuild projects to finish. Knowing that thousands of imperial fuckloads of people will never get their lives back. Knowing that there was no good reason for this to have happened to begin with.

Despite leaving NOLA at bloody-early-o-clock in the morning Saturday, I didn't get home until Sunday night. My first shower at home was anti-climactic: there was no challenge. The water ran hot right away and stayed hot. I didn't have to turn the water off while soaping up to conserve for other people. I could leave the shampoo bottle in the shower. Life here is easy.

That's kind of what I felt when I got to the office. This programming gig I have isn't real work. It's a job that I love, yes, sure, and I'm lucky to have it. I know how to write software, how to debug, but if I quit, there would be someone else hired in a little while. Down there in St. Bernard parish, there isn't someone else. I don't say that to be egotistical, it's just that while there are more people coming in and working, there aren't enough. There's a vast dearth of willing and able bodies. And especially of skilled bodies.

It felt right to have that hammer knock against my knee, because it was symbolic of the right thing happening. So I'm going back. I don't know exactly when, or with who, but those are just details. In the meanwhile, I'm going to sit at my desk and put a few dollars in my pocket, and enjoy my community. When I can, I will get a airplane ticket, and swing that hammer again. I'm proud of what I did, and I know I can do more.

The bulk of my photos from One Brick and Habitat are up. Enjoy!

http://kchengimages.com/NOLA/Habitat/

hey guys, here's a link to my picasa album from NOLA! http://picasaweb.google.com/midge922/NewOrleansHabitatForHumanity

I was too sad to even say goodbye to Lorraine this morning. She kept saying she would get back to me on Tuesday in regards to the "Don't let Peter in" rule and I couldn't bring myself to tell her I wasn't going to be here and she would no longer be the one to check me in every morning after my jog.

...I guess that's just the way I am, I just disappear usually.

But tonight, at around 1 a.m., I couldn't just disappear from Blue Nile without saying goodbyes.

It fucking sucked. Finally, after a week of funky cafeteria food which I actually kinda liked, strange one way streets I always ended up in the wrong direction on, cold showers, deep-fried fried fat and hours of trying to find ways to be useful on site while getting to know the people around me with my prying for life stories and random personal factoids, I've become really accustomed to Camp Hope and NOLA and now I have to leave. And it fucking sucks. (Can I swear on this blog? Do I care right now? It's 2:33 a.m. and I wish I was still at the Blue Nile drinking whatever it was Diana got me and jamming to Rebel Souls. BUT... for those of you in the bay, I bought a CD which we should all get together and jam too. I'll deep fry donuts for you to enjoy just like you were in NO. I won't eat them but I'll make them for you.)

I keep dreading tomorrow (except the Cal/USC game) and hoping Monday never arrives... So, I'm staying up late tonight to avoid the tomorrow and prolong the tonight.

And by the way, tonight was awesome. I arrived at Frenchman Street early with Karen and Mel (two more wonderful ladies) and got a round of drinks at the Spotted Cat before getting some eats at Spun Harbor. There, we chatted about everything--great movies, strange dates, what constitutes a marriage and why divorces shouldn't be shunned, the Peace Corps (eep), cute guys, and heaven and hell (George Clooney x massage table + beach = my heaven... Lindsay Lohan + no running = my hell). Returned to the Spotted Cat to find Kinga, my dancing queena, Edna, and some other fabulous people. Listened to a few jazz bands (Panarama http://www.panoramajazzband.com/ and the Jazz Vipers) and then ran off with Tony to the Blue Nile for some Soul Rebels!! I heart the Soul Rebels! http://www.soulrebelsbrassband.com/SoulRebels/Home.asp We were able to collect a few people and bring them back to the Blue Nile to listen some more but then my premature departure arrived and I drove us back to Camp and now here I am, 2:51 a.m., wondering if I should correct the cojones misspelling on my last post or ignore Dalton's comment and thinking how I can prolong my time here and what else profound I can say.

I'll definitely miss everyone I've met and will remember something each person was able to offer--everyone is able to offer something of themselves, whether they realize it or not. That's part of the reason I always pry for life stories--they can offer me their guidance, their resemblance, or their difference and in any case I'll find something to embrace in their stories. I almost feel guilty for enjoying my time here so much. I feel like I should've suffered a bit to truly be a dutiful volunteer for all these Katrina survivors. But the back breaking work--painting while stretching my neck too far, nailing in insulation netting while crouched like some sort of contorted from underneath a house, caulking... let's say it again... CAULKING...-- was all fun.

So... ciao everyone.

*Sorry for the unorganized post... I'll have a link to pictures soon and if I left anyone off of the bye's, my bad... nothin' personal, it's 3am.*

...Some Caulking Jokes...

4. My caulk won't work.
3.My caulk is bigger than your caulk.
2. Who wants the caulk? (Edna: Me!!)
1. Where can I find more caulk? (Glance at Tony and Mick....) Hmm, not here...

The siding on the house we’ve been working on is almost complete. The house looks so much better than it did at the beginning of the week. Doors were delivered, and perhaps we’ll be able to hang those tomorrow. This was our third day at the same sight, with the same crew, so there is some bonding going on, the shier among us are starting to loosen up, and we’re getting huge amounts of work done. Last night, someone told me that if all of the siding is nailed into all of the studs, it will be able to withstand 140 mile per hour winds. (And I’m willing to treat her statement with credulity, as she is one of the long-term Habitat volunteers who has been here for a while.)

This leads me to today’s topic, which is the environmental aspect. Today I spoke to a volunteer who told me that when he was considering this trip, part of him wondered if there was really a point in building houses if another hurricane, or another flood, is going to come along. And there will be another hurricane. This is something that a lot of people don’t really want to talk about. Understandably.

One thing you will hear repeatedly from the locals is this: "this was a manmade disaster." The other day, someone who works for the parish government echoed that statement more specifically: "The river didn’t flood. The canals are what flooded." In St. Bernard Parish, the flooding came from the Mississippi River-Gulf Outlet Canal (MR-GO), a navigation channel that was built to shorten the route from New Orleans’ harbor to the Gulf of Mexico. The 25 foot storm surge that swamped the parish came when the levees on the sides of the MR-GO were overwhelmed.There are two aspects to this "man-made disaster." The first relates to engineering and the environment. It has been argued that the wetlands of southern Louisiana, in their natural state, could absorb a storm surge, or a flood, without most of that excess water making it on to land. But of course those wetlands haven’t been in their natural state for a long time. People have been building channels, draining marshes, and diverting water around here for centuries. And when you build a canal, and line it with levees, the water doesn’t flow the way it does naturally. It flows through the channels that have been constructed, and it can overwhelm them if it’s more water than they are designed for. All the construction of levees and canals throughout the Mississippi Delta has greatly increased the erosion of coastal vegetation, as much as 34 square miles a year by some estimates. The more it declines, the closer the ocean gets to New Orleans. Hurricanes get weaker when they make landfall, and they lose power rapidly as they move inland. The closer New Orleans is to the ocean, the stronger the hurricanes will be when they arrive.

The second aspect is political. Louisiana and New Orleans have a long and colorful history of corruption. Think Huey Long and Leander Perez. Many of the levees and the canals were not constructed the way they were supposed to be. Why spend all the money necessary to build something the right way, when it’s cheaper to bribe a public official to look the other way while you cut corners? I’ll use an example from another country to illustrate how tragic the results can be from this sort of collusion. Jesus Gil y Gil was a shady Spanish businessman who later became mayor of Marbella and president of the Atletico Madrid Football Club. Gil initially made his money in construction. In 1967, an apartment building his company had constructed collapsed during an earthquake. 58 people died. Had he built the apartment building according to safety codes, this probably wouldn’t have happened. But he didn’t, because it was cheaper to pay off public officials. His greed was more important than people’s safety. He was sent to jail at the time, but he was only there for a few months before Generalissimo Francisco Franco gave him a pardon and he was released (allegedly after yet another payoff). Corrupt politicians and shady businessmen get rich, and when natural disasters happen, people die because of their malfeasance.

We can’t prevent another monster hurricane from coming through, so we try to build structures that can withstand them. But I haven’t even mentioned global warming yet. The ocean might be getting closer to New Orleans due to a loss of coastal wetland vegetation, but rising sea levels will bring it even closer together. But that doesn’t mean we should abandon one of America’s great cities, and its equally fascinating environs, to the vagaries of fate. I can’t answer the question of whether all this rebuilding is ultimately worth it, if we’re just going to keep doing it again and again. But I’m an optimist. If my family had lived someplace for hundreds of years, if I had a deep, spiritual connection to the land and the water and the culture I grew up with it, I’d keep rebuilding my house every time it got knocked down. I wouldn’t leave until there really was no other choice. I wouldn’t leave until it was completely underwater for good.

This is the mantra Steve shared with me today. Steve is a local here at St. Bernard and I had met him on Sunday but was still too timid and didn't have the cajones to chat with anyone. Tonight, I sat down for dinner with him and Kinga (this super awesome girl I met here who is my dancing fool partner) and he told me about his stories during the hurricane and post-Katrina.

I'm not sure how old Steve is because I'm sure the stress of the storm has weathered away at his frail frame and he says the stress of the storm tookaway his teeth and is slowly working its way towards his hairline. His wife JoAnn died a year after the storm from complications with stress. Her blood pressure skyrocketed and couldn't get lower than 180. Steve tried to lessen the tension throughout Katrina and its aftermath with jokes and a light heart but her heart couldn't take it and she died about a year ago, I could see in his eyes the pain is still very fresh and real as he began to choke up. He said 1800 people died during Katrina and many more followed due to illnesses and stress in the last two years post Katrina's wake.

He had made a collection of videos over the years, mostly bits and pieces of other people's home videos, and showed us a few tonight. It was really difficult to fathom. As empathetic as I am, I realistically can only scratch at the surface of how it must have felt to have a hurricane suddenly drench your home in 3 minutes--THREE MINUTES it took for the storm to reach the ground level of their living room (which is raised at least 4 feet) to the ceiling. Imagine the power of those waters to be able to consume a house in 3 minutes...

No one can really imagine what that's like, or what it must be like to sit on a rooftop for hours or even days in the rain, wind, and rising waters with no end in sight. Or what it's like to watch 55 foot waves crashing over the levees towards you. Or see a dog abandoned on a rooftop but you're stuck on your own rooftop and can't help. Or watch a car float over your roof. Or wonder why the US government has abandoned you but somehow the Canadian Mounties and the German whoever-they-are show up in the first few days. Or wonder what is in that nasty brown water--all the debris, sewage, automotive oils and gasoline, household chemicals--that's engulfing your neighborhood and soaking into every inch of your space and making people sick for months after. Or the rioting and looting and illness that ensued afterwards.

One clip showed St. Bernard in the November following Katrina--and sadly it didn't look that much different from St. Bernard now except the piles of rubble are more sparse but the damage here and there is still obvious. The lower Ninth Ward is especially saddening as LeighAnne (also awesome girl) and I took a morning tour of it today (sorry for waking you up at 6am, LaLa), and many homes were abandoned and condemned with phrases like "Do not Enter!" spray painted on the front doors.

At one point I imagined what it would be like if in these videos I saw my mom or some of my friends and it broke my heart. Because the people here, they're someone's mom or best friend or brother or sister... and everyone has kind of given up on them.

The strength some of the locals here have is amazing--or maybe it's their only choice. I imagine some people had the money and the connections to leave. But some people had no choice but to have faith, be hopeful, stay and rebuild. I don't think I could be that strong.

People think us volunteers are strong for coming down here and helping. I don't really agree. Steve looked into the crowd tonight as we watched his videos and said the volunteers were the heroes of Katrina but I disagree. We're just playing a supporting role to the people who chose to stay behind. The locals who didn't quit and didn't abandon this place that now has parts that look like a ravaged ghost town... they're the heroes. They're the ones who have inspired us volunteers to help. Take Steve who has chosen to stay in St. Bernard and has been busting his balls to setup a community center (named after his wife--JoAnn Vision of Hope--Looking on yesterday with happiness, and on tomorrow with hope), a library, a babysitting center... That man has a heart of steel I tell ya... Us? We're the ones who get to go home at the end of a hard week, pat ourselves on the back for trying, and return to our dry homes, happy friends and family, and pray someone else takes a turn and keeps the efforts going.

I'm really glad OneBrick chose to put this together and so far I've really enjoyed my time here and the people I've met--even the cold showers we all get to bond over. I just wish I could do more. And I'll pray to my atheist God that nothing like Katrina will ever befall on my friends, family or myself.

As much help as it is to pick up a paintbrush and paint an exterior wall and get this home closer to done, I'm still unsatisfied. Sooo, I think I'll see as to what I can do to write some grant proposals to my oh so wonderful employer company and ask them to contribute. We'll see how much influence this gremlin has.

Here's a link to a set of photos taken from the medical clinic.

www.kchengimages.com/NOLA/110507

I’ll start this post with a little bit of background on St. Bernard Parish, where I am staying this week. In the wake of the catastrophes caused by Hurricane Katrina and the subsequent flooding, New Orleans got most of the press. This is perfectly understandable, given its position as one of America’s iconic cities. But communities like Meraux and Violet, Louisiana (where I’m staying) or Ocean Springs, Missisippi, were harder hit. The entire parish was covered in between 2 and 28 feet of water. There are a grand total, at most, of three structures in the entire parish that were not flooded. The eye of the hurricane passed over the eastern part of the parish, but meanwhile a black wall of clouds was pushing a 25 foot storm surge in which broke the parish levees. The water rose quickly. Some witnesses said it was less than fifteen minutes. Over two years later, much has been rebuilt, but there are still whole strip malls sitting there empty, the windows boarded up and the parking lots choked with weeds.

Habitat for Humanity’s weekly programs in St. Bernard Parish run Tuesday to Saturday, so on Mondays the volunteers here at Camp Hope do projects for the parish government. Today, I ended up at the spot that is going to be transformed into a park and playing fields. About 15 of us removed dead trees, whacked some weeds, and cleaned up a lot of garbage. The school itself was an odd sight. One whole wing had all of it’s walls gone. Inside, the seats were gone from the auditorium, so there was merely a stage with an incline in front of it. The windows were boarded up, or gone completely. There was graffiti on the walls, but much of it was along the lines of "I [heart] St. B," or "Archbishop Hannon was one of the best times of my life." The thing I found most unsettling was on the second floor. Whole rooms were strewn with the detritus of choir and band practice, but what got me was the proofs from yearbook photos strewn on the floor. These really conveyed the sense that the school had been abandoned suddenly, and the students had yet to return. Where are they now? Some have moved, no doubt, some managed to graduate from some other high school and have matriculated. Once this space was filled with the vibrant sounds of young people, chatting with their friends, discussing plans and crushes. Today it is cold and empty. The Diocese of New Orleans plans to reopen Archbishop Hannon High School elsewhere. But this spot, which is now owned by the parish government, will one day be a park.

We got to spend some time today with Roy and Perry, two employees of the parish government. Talk to the locals here, and you might hear some seriously f’ed up stories. During the flooding in 2005, people said that if you found a corpse, you should tie it to a post or a tree. Some people didn’t use a long enough rope, so when the waters receded, and the residents returned, they were confronted with the site of dead bodies hanging there. One of the bodies was only recognizable because he was still wearing his parish government uniform. Houses, beautiful houses, with lots of insulation were lifted clean off their foundations and came back down hundreds of feet away. As usually happens when Mother Nature gets ready to throw down, many locals saw all kinds of animals, deer, rabbits, coyotes and whatnot all heading in the same direction. (Human beings, though, aren’t that smart. We think, "hey, I wonder what they’re running from," and we go the opposite way.) And when the waters receded and the humans came back, the trees had no leaves. There were no birds and no animals. It was dead quiet.

As depressing and macabre as all of that might be, there is definitely plenty of optimism here. Two years after the deluge, there is still an enormous amount of work to be done. But I understand it looks considerably better than it did last year. Local businesses have "now hiring" signs in front. Even if we didn’t do that much in tangible terms, merely showing up to help lets the locals know that they haven’t been forgotten. That just because it’s not in the news anymore, people in the rest of the country, in the rest of the world, still care about them. Today a woman at a grocery store hugged six of us. "Stay positive," I said to Roy as we departed. "You got to," he replied, "otherwise you’ll go crazy."
-Dalton "D$" Hirshorn

Finally with Habitat...

Today was a hell of a lot easier than Monday. Ask anyone who went to the Medical Clinic and then banged hammers or climbed ladders today at the Habitat site--today was easier than being in huge body suits and shoveling sludge.

I think it's interesting the side of people you get to see when you're in a situation where their safety is in your hands or where someone's wall is yours and a stranger's responsibility. All for a person you don't know.

I wonder why this kind of caring isn't shared more in day to day life... hmmm...

The living down here isn't so bad. It isn't so great but the hospitality lives up to its name, as you might experience if you come down and enjoy the service from the Gold Star Diner's lovely waitress... she lives just down the street from Camp Hope and has a diabetic father whom she calls Pa (almost sounds liek Paw), and just bought a house for 16 G's. These are the stories you get to hear around here.

I like how people just open up to you like that in small towns. My lil OneBrick group and I wondered how a "diner" in California might differ, especially in the more metro areas. Rarely would you find a waitress spilling her life story at Chevy's. Usually in the Bay Area, you find people conversing with others... but those others are online, buddies out in cyberspace. We're all sitting around with our heads shoved into laptops or reading text messages. Rarely are we chatting with the guy next to us with the amazing life story to share. If Betsy at Chevy's were to open up and tell her about her house in foreclosure or her diabetic father, we might wonder why she's telling us all this when in secret, I think we all kind of like this openness.

Anyways, these are just some thoughts I had today. I know it's hard to open up to strangers you'll only know for a week or so... but don't be so afraid to open up to them.

Besides all this... My foot has been chewed up by fireants, I'm grateful for my mattress, I was ready to go to bed at 7, and I miss all my friends and hot showers. But... I get to pound hammers and caulk shit all day. Not bad.

Habitat for Humanity has changed their work week to be Tuesday-Saturday so we got the chance to volunteer today for civic projects in St. Bernard Parish. We broke up into groups to do various projects: gutting a medical center, helping out at the NOLA Habitat for Humanity warehouse, building bunk beds at Camp Hope, painting a women's shelter, and weeding/picking up trash on land donated to the Parish from a private school that did not choose to rebuild in the Parish.

The group gathering this morning to find out our work options:


I did the weeding project. Even though I faced three infestions of my sneakers and ankles with fire ants while raking post-weed wacked brush, it was tons of fun. The gutted out school:


Dana was a master at the weed wacker:


Just the beginning of the trash we found around the grounds:


Dave's big find:


Richard picking up trash before the weed wacker can enter the area:


How many men does it take to start a chain saw? Michael (the fifth) proved to have the magic touch!


Evan using the chain saw:


The inside of the school:


This picture is taken at the top of a stair case looking down to the first level. You can see the rust lines from the two weeks of standing water:


The second floor was untouched by water, but it had been discovered by vandals:


Small trees don't stand a chance to Stacy's machete!


The group at the end of the day with two St. Bernard Parish staff Roy and Perry:


BEFORE:


AFTER!!


A well earned treat:

Today, Beth, Emma, Mitch, Roberta, and I volunteered at Habitat NOLA's warehouse. We sorted cabinets, refrigerators, and stoves.

In spirit of volunteering made Fun, we devised techniques of sliding fridges and stoves on dust, making impact with each other a la bumper cars. I noticed that some addresses on appliances are to be delivered to homes that I built frames for back in May and July. It's really cool to make that connection.

In addition, we raced carts filled with kitchen appliances. Beth's manually-operated cart easily won out over my poorly-driven electric cart.

For lunch, we ate Crabby Jack's, where I ordered a King size Shrimp & Oyster Po-boy.

Before returning to Camp Hope, we stopped by Musician's Village on Bartholomew street. A revelation hit us - Appliances we sorted for delivery to Bart street, are going to home at Musician's Village.

Woohoo! It's good feeling to make that connection, and seeing how our volunteer work today will directly impact many Habitat homes, including ones we visited. We all agreed that it was productive day :)

Day one of actually working was ridiculously gross and overwhelming but was pretty interesting and well worth it, so don't be scared or think you can't handle the work if you're debating on coming down.

Our orientation was last night and the videos Sarah showed us probably would have had me bawling had I been by myself but seated in the front row of 70 people, I was able to manage maintaining my tears and limiting myself to just a few. The benefit to watching these depressing videos though is that they're a reminder of why you're here.

I'll admit, a quarter-way through today I thought "What is the point of this?" 30 or 40 people had signed up to gut a Medical Clinic about 10 miles away along with its neighboring Mental Health Clinic and Drug Rehab Center, neither of which had been touched since Katrina and were in muddy, dark, moldy shambles. My car got their early, being the speed demon I am, and we took a look around the Medical Clinic.

There was a busted water pipe spewing water all over the front lobby--at least I think it was the front lobby. There were no doors, no desk, no anything except a pile of rubble and a pool of mucky water. The building was partially already gutted but there was a lot of work to do--most of the walls were still up and there was debris everywhere. The once blue walls were spotted with black mold colonies and wires hung loosely from the ceilings and walls. Cockroaches scurried from one pile of nasty rubbish to another.

We prepped ourselves with yellow rubber boots to cover our shoes, white body suits that turned into saunas, helmets, eye goggles (sexy), gloves, and face masks that made those Outbreak masks look wimpy. I'm honestly scared of the big goofy masks that make you look like Darth vader so I opted for a less intense filter mask.

When we got going, you're not really sure how to start, you just start. And looking back, I can't remember what I first started working on but I eventually focused on demolishing the walls of one of the rooms. It's incredibly therapeutic sledge hammering your way through the morning.. I'm sure everyone who had a sledge hammer used some sort of life stressor as ammunition, i.e. their shitty job, their pisser boss, their stupid girlfriend or more stupid boyfriend, nagging parents, etc. So yeah, I won't lie, it was fun picturing those walls as my cubicle walls.

But about halfway through the morning, not to dissuade anyone, but I honestly started to wonder what was going to happen to this building and what the point of taking my mini wrecking ball arms at this wall. What good would this do for St. Bernard? Why were 40 people, from random parts of the U.S., shovelling, axing and sledging (sledging?? sledgehammering? do I care right now? I smell like hurricane vomit...) away at these buildings? What would happen to this building and who's going to keep it going?

By lunchtime, everyone looks like a wet cat, gnarly, grumpy and ready to bite your face off. Just having to go to the bathroom is work--taking off the layers of protective coating. As we ate though, I think there was a sense of commaradery in the work we were all putting in and everyone seemed pretty proud.

I think the commaradery our group develops helps us develop a stronger sense of hope for this place. And our continuing faith helps the community realize there will be light soon. As most of the country has given up on this place, there are people here who still have faith in a new St. Bernard and a new New Orleans.

The Clinic is really pathetic looking--it's a shell as of now with piles of rubble sitting in the parking lot. I'm not really sure what the next step is for the Clinic. All that's left inside is the frame, some debris, hanging wires, and puddles that have been there since who knows when.

But regardless of whether or not someone actually comes back to continue the work on the Clinic, I have faith people will see the continuing efforts and realize it's not that hard. It's not that difficult to keep the work going. I don't know if the Clinic will ever get fully cleaned up and even if it does, I don't know what's going to happen to it--whether it'll end up being demolished and turned into a plot of land for Donald Trump to build something on or if people will keep coming back to rebuild a Clinic.

So I guess all I can do after I leave is keep bugging people to help and if they can't help, then ask other people to help because, really, this isn't that hard. Giving up is easy but it's never as satisying. Some of us might not be able to see each project from start to finish but if we're able to continue one or more steps of each project, that keeps the faith of the community strong and enable volunteers to come back and conitnue the next step and that alone is worth it to me.

Inspired by the article New Orleans: Rolling by the river at http://www.cnn.com/2007/TRAVEL/getaways/10/18/new.orleans.bikes

On Sunday afternoon, Ka Yun, Mitch, and I went bicycling for 4 hours. I had never seen New Orleans on bike before, and it was fun!

Starting on at Michael's bike shop on Frenchmen St., up Esplanade, passing by New Orleans Museum of Art, eventually in and out of City Park, just short of Lake Pontchartrain. Afterwards, we bike to the Garden District and hung out at a cafe. On the way back, my bike tire went flat, hence giving me a pedaling workout.

I estimate that we biked ~10 miles. The streets were mostly empty, as most people were watching the Saints football game, which gave us an opportunity to rule the roads for a beautiful sunny afternoon with cool breezes :)

This is my second trip with One Brick to St. Bernard Parish. One thing I learned from my first trip was to have the fun part of the trip the weekend before volunteering instead of the weekend following. This way we were able to experience Bourbon St after 10 pm. So I spent the weekend in the French Quarter and just arrived today at the volunteer camp. It feels like a day spa compared to the old Camp Hope (which I've been told has already been demolished and is now just a pile of dirt). There are interior walls here and I'm not sure where to begin to express the mass improvement in the shower situation! I guess the fact they are now in the same building where we sleep is a good place. I'll have to put some comparison pictures in here to demonstrate.

I heard yesterday that the houses we worked on in May are not complete and the families have not moved into them yet. In just one week in May we made tons of progress in those houses and saw them go from flat foundations to a structure that had interior and exterior walls with windows and insulation. Supposedly it is because the professionals required for plumbing and electricity are hard to come by here. I plan to go visit the old worksites to see for myself.

I did notice progress in St. Bernard Parish already on my drive to the camp from the city. There is a supermarket, many restaurants, and two drive through daquiri stores that were not there 6 months ago. Should be a fun week!

Every volunteer has a story to tell:

When Cheryl, Dave, and I planned the current November trip, we never imagined having 70+ people signing up.

Time wise, I won't be able to have 1-on-1 conversations with everyone this week,

It will be interesting hearing stories relayed during this trip, and afterwards on these blogs.

Let the fun begin...