"60 Pounds of Oranges"

While in New Orleans, our team volunteered in a variety of programs. We divided into two groups and spent our time house-gutting, preparing and serving food to the hungry, and handing out food, water, and supplies to anyone who stopped by our Mobile Respite Care Unit (pictured here). The unit is operated by a handful of energetic and dedicated folks, two of whom happen to be deacons in the Episcopal church.

Deacon Quin Bates, who helped guide us through our duties, has been working with the unit since the flood waters subsided. The Mobile Respite Care Unit is essentially a full-size R.V. that is driven out to areas where residents have been hit hardest by the flood waters, and it is stocked with items to give out to those who need it. A bag is filled for each person who comes by, and on the days we worked the unit those items were toilet paper, paper towels, Nutrigrain bars, Ramen Noodle Soup, lollipops, and bottled water, amongst other things. Everything is rationed, right down to the laundry detergent (1 1/2 scoops of powdered All put into a ziplock baggie).

After driving for some time on our first day, we parked the R.V. in St. Bernard Parish, in an abandoned strip mall parking lot. Our trip is unannounced, really -- people just know to look for the R.V. -- and before we can get the sandwich board up to announce our arrival, cars begin to pull over. On the first day, we spent 3 1/2 hours in that parking lot, and my guess would be we served at least 150 people. On the second day, there was even more.

People pull over because they see you giving out things, or they call their friends and family and tell them to get over to this parking lot because they've just spotted you. Without question, no identification required, we served men, women and children of all races and sizes. There wasn't a label you could put on these people, like 'homeless' or 'poor' or anything like that. Simply put, they were in need.

Deacon Bates was always telling us to let people know where we were from -- New York City -- because they would feel special and would think it was wonderful that we came all this way to help out. Sure enough, people were overjoyed to hear that out-of-staters still cared. A few even got teary-eyed in knowing that we were there to help.

We left the Mobile Respite Care Unit both days feeling like we wanted to do more -- wishing there was something more we could do -- something we could give.

On Monday, marking only a week of us being back in NYC, I received a voicemail from Carol, a fellow volunteer pictured above in the blue jacket. She wanted to know how to get in touch with Deacon Quin because she was sending him oranges and wanted to give him a heads up before their arrival.

I called her back and we chatted for a few minutes, both of us remarking how it felt like so long ago since we were down in New Orleans.

"Well, anyway," Carol said, "I ordered a crate of oranges for Quin and I wanted to make sure he knew they were coming, just in case." I gave her his cell phone number and told her I thought it was incredibly kind of her to do something like this.

"I hope he'll enjoy those. It's 60 pounds of oranges!" she said. "I was trying to think of what I would like, and I thought, I'd like nothing more than to bite into a nice juicy orange. That would make my day."

I think she's got that right. And now it will most certainly make the day of anyone who comes by the Mobile Respite Care Unit once the oranges have arrived.

"Water lines" (by Jenn Onofrio)

It seemed that every day we went out to volunteer, we journeyed through neighborhoods marked with water lines. These orange lines were the stains left on the sides of buildings, the result of standing water that had stood unbearably long after the infamous levees had broken.

The lines were sometimes four feet high, but sometimes they were higher than a person is able to stand. In some desperate cases, the lines are not terribly visible because the water rose all the way to the level of the roof. In these cases, the "x" mark of the rescue team who came searching for victims is marked on the roof of the houses instead of the exterior walls. The walls were entirely submerged.

It is a profound, chilling experience to stand beneath the mark of a water line and look up to see that, when standing 5'7" tall, the waterline still has at least a foot on you. What's more, we were told that the flood waters actually crested higher than this. The water line was only left where it was because it was standing for long enough to leave a stain.

"Taj Mahal" (by David Henry)

Debris from house gutting projects, January 2007.

This had been my first visit to New Orleans, and it has left an indelible mark on me. It's hard to convey in writing the full range of emotions I felt over the course of our week there. I'd volunteered also following 9/11, and in a strange way I found our work in New Orleans quite a bit more unsettling. At 9/11, the whole world was mobilized and every imaginable resource was deployed in response to what had happened. In contrast, the horrendously stricken areas of New Orleans were all poor neighborhoods filled with struggling, ordinary people. Thousands lost everything they had, which often was limited to their home (passed down for generations, often no paperwork) and the simple household possessions they had within them. Many of these people are still waiting for help and are having difficulty finding work in a city that is far from recovered from this disaster.

Our crew from Transfiguration, together with other volunteers, terrific undergrads from Kenyon College and Brown University, gutted six houses, three of which had barely been entered since the storm. In one case the homeowner -- an unforgettable woman, a grandmother, African-American, salt of the earth in every way -- was living in a FEMA trailer directly in front of her wrecked former home. She said many incredible things, including, “God is good. He could’ve taken our lives, instead he took our things. We learned a lot through this about what’s important in life.” Later in the day, pointing to her FEMA trailer, she said, "That's my Taj Mahal. A lot of folks, they don't have no Taj Mahal." She wanted to get all of our names, saying that, "When times is better, I want to have every one of you down here again, and I cook up for you the best southern dinner you ever had. We’ll have so much fun." Somewhat paralyzed, I went back into her devastated little home and plied out a molded wall with a crowbar.

Trip Summary (by David Henry)

One member of our team, David Henry, gave a brief speech on Sunday, January 21, 2007 at Church of the Transfiguration in NYC. His aim was to give an overview of our trip to New Orleans which, though very difficult to do, he very graciously did. The text of his speech appears below. -JO

"It was my privilege to be a part of the group from this parish that went to New Orleans to participate in the disaster relief program organized by the Episcopal Diocese of Louisiana. It was an experience that none of us will ever forget. New Orleans is a puzzling city, with many faces: the gracious mansions, noble colleges and beautiful churches of St. Charles Avenue, the distinctive architecture and playful culture of Bourbon Street and the French Quarter; these coexist alongside the surreal wreckage of the Ninth Ward, the Lower Ninth Ward, Gentilly, St. Bernard’s Parish and other communities that were all but destroyed by the floodwaters brought by Hurricane Katrina. Thousands for whom these communities had been home, often for generations, are still trying to rebuild their lives, with none of the tools or resources to do so. These are the people to whom our time and labor in New Orleans was given.

"Some members of our group worked with crews providing immediate relief such as food, hygiene items and blankets. There were never enough blankets; people with families would ask for two, but could only be given one because there weren’t enough to go around. Often they would put their name on a list and come back the next day hoping to receive a second blanket. This group also worked preparing the evening meal at a soup kitchen operated out of a church dedicated to St. George. We all had dinner here one evening, and it was wonderful to be able to sit down with those we served, and meet and talk with them one-on-one. Sometimes a local jazz ensemble is brought in by St. George’s to play during the meal, adding a special luster to the evening, and at the same time helping musicians who can no longer easily make a living through their art.

"Others within our group, including myself, spent our days working with other volunteers, mostly students from various colleges and universities, on the work of house-gutting. We were dispatched early in the morning from St. Andrew’s Church with a team leader employed by the Diocese to the home that would be our project for the day. These homes had not been entered since the storm, when six to eight feet of water inside the home left it and everything within in ruins. Our job was to remove the contents, then the walls and ceiling, leaving only the exterior walls and studs. Many homeowners cannot do this work themselves, nor can they afford the two to five thousand dollars that contractors charge for this work. Of the six homes we gutted, we met four of the owners. The gratitude and appreciation they expressed to us was deeply moving. These humble houses and the furnishings and possessions within them were everything they had, and the source also of countless memories.

"Our week concluded with a choral Eucharist last Sunday which we shared with the people of New Orleans at Christ Church Cathedral, with Bishop Andrew preaching the sermon. We were so pleased to have him present with us for the last few days of our work. The recessional hymn which closed the service was Christ is the World’s True Light. With beautiful accompaniment by the cathedral organ as the priests, ministers and choir made their way down the nave in procession, this hymn perfectly articulated our deepest aspirations for a better world, a world where that most basic of all principles, that we love one another in Christ, is lived out.

"The Diocese of Louisiana’s Disaster Relief Program is a shining example of how the Church can be, and is, a force for immeasurable good in our world. Churches throughout New Orleans have been providing, without fanfare and with limited funding, the kind of help and relief that might have been expected of government. All of us are grateful for having had this opportunity to put faith into action; some are already making plans to return. The experience overall brings to mind the words of another hymn, O God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come."

A bit of background...

Welcome to our blog! On the right of the screen you will find a brief summary of who/what we are, a list of those who sponsored our trip, the organizations we worked with while in New Orleans, and a slew of NOLA-area businesses we supported and encourage you to visit if you are in town.

The short of the long is this: in August of 2006, newspapers and magazines began discussing again the devastation of New Orleans, post-Katrina. The one-year anniversary of the storm was approaching and articles were abundant on the topic of the long, slow recovery process in The Big Easy.

I became fixated on one article in particular from The New Yorker, and decided that I wanted to go down and volunteer -- even if only for one weekend. What ended up happening instead was, eleven other people came with me, we were graciously sponsored by friends of the Church of the Transfiguration, and we spent one week gutting houses, performing direct services, and feeding the homeless in a soup kitchen. It became a volunteer ministry program that I hope will continue on for years to come.

In the coming days and weeks, please return to find pictures, stories and tidbits of info on NOLA, and what you can do to help.

Thanks -
Jenn Onofrio