A New Friend

Some people are just perfect examples of what is good here, and of stories that should be shared. I stopped at a house this morning in the Parish, looking for another volunteer I know. I also know the homeowner, a woman, probably in her late 20s, who has a daughter. They’re living in a FEMA Trailer right in the front yard. My friend Noriko has been helping to do the sheet rocking in the house, and has been spending a lot of time there. When I walked in, Noriko wasn’t there, but there was one person working.

A man named Barry and I introduced ourselves. We chatted. Barry, who is 50, was just there helping out, doing some of the texturing before they paint the walls and ceilings. A lifelong resident of New Orleans, Barry has family and friends (including his mother and brother) in St. Bernard Parish, and was just there helping out. He says that he tries to help out as many people in the neighborhoods as possible. He does some contracting work, enough to keep afloat. But for the most part, he just spares his time to help out at different homes, he says, particularly for elderly.

As Barry puts it, he’s blessed. The thing was, Barry didn’t know me from a hole in the wall. I walked in there, introduced myself, and he probably gathered that I was a volunteer, but I don’t think I even told him that much, saying that I was just looking for Noriko. After asking him what he was doing there, his connection, if he’s got family in the Parish, etc., he proceeded to tell me how he just likes to help. He makes enough money to get by, to feed himself, and help out with his mom. And that’s all he needs. There wasn’t a word that came out of his mouth that I didn’t find to be sincere and genuine.

While taping windows before spraying more texture, Barry kept chatting away, explaining how he gets so much fulfillment out of helping people. I can relate. No amount of money or salary can top it. I took Barry’s number, and told him I’d give him a call within the next week. I want to see his mom’s house, see some of the other families he knows in the area, and what their story is. Maybe there’s something that my upcoming project can help some of them with. I’m pretty sure that if Barry has a connection with someone, they’ll be legit.

Some positive sights, and then more positive sights.

Monday, I stopped by the “old” Camp Hope. They are bulldozing it (they being the Parish officials), saying it’ll be more cost efficient to rebuild it from scratch than to rehab what was a gutted structure. Like every other building in the Parish, this former elementary school was under water for days following Hurricane Katrina.

I watched for a few minutes as the bulldozers did their thing, snapped a few pictures. Today, I went back and watched again. I definitely experienced a mix of emotions. It’s not all sentimental stuff, in the true sense. Rather, I’ve just always looked at that place as a symbol of something bigger here. It’s funny, I sat there looking at piles or ruin, but I had nothing but positive thoughts about it. Not to yank on the name, but it truly was a place of hope. Volunteers from all over the country came to St. Bernard Parish to help (and many who stayed there helped out all over the New Orleans area), and so many of them congregated here. How great is that. It’s been a time of need down here, two years plus now to be exact, and it’s places like Camp Hope that sort of came to symbolize what strong will and hope and positive energy can provide.

Not long before going by “old” Camp Hope today, a resident I met with this morning took me by her house in Chalmette. She’d lived here since the late 1960s and has lived in this particular neighborhood her entire life. She talked about the neighborhood more than anything else. She loves it there, and doesn’t want to leave. We walked around inside her home, and she’ll be the first to admit, it’s pretty messy. She’s in a small home just outside, and her brother is in a FEMA Trailer in the front yard. She doesn’t have the money to fix up the main house yet, still waiting on Road Home (like thousands of others). So in the meantime, “stuff” is just scattered everywhere. Maxine is a bit older (over 65, put it that way), and I know this heat down here, and it’s not really safe or healthy for anyone at that age to be pushing themselves too much in a house that could push 110 degrees and has no air circulation. She needs help.

She let me take some pictures. It wasn’t pretty in there, but I still looked at this as a positive sight as well. It’s something for Maxine to have hope for, to look forward to. She knows she’ll be back in the house someday, hopefully sooner rather than later. More importantly, it’s her home of 40-something years, and she hasn't thought about leaving it behind. Should she? That's not for anyone other than Maxine to answer, and she's already made that decision.

You see a lot of things around here that could be perceived as bad, as negative, as sad, as frightening. A lot of it was in my first few weeks here. Not anymore. It's pretty neat to see the good, in bad, if that makes any sense. Lord knows I wasn't very good at that before coming here.