New Type of Day

No question this has been a year of change for me, and Thanksgiving week was no different. The past couple of years, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I was working in an office, with great people but with unfulfilling duties, and would leave work by early afternoon, race to the gym for a quick workout, run home to shower, and then head to a restaurant in Phoenix that was (and probably still is) the “hot spot” in the valley of the sun for the night before Thanksgiving. It was definitely a good time, hanging out with friends – and a few hundred strangers. In fact, one of my favorite pictures from my time living in Arizona came at this joint Thanksgiving week of 2004. It’s me surrounded by about 8 female friends, all of us grinning ear to ear, having a blast. There was nothing wrong with those days, and I’d do them all over again if that’s where I was. But I’m not there anymore, literally or figuratively.

Last Wednesday, the day before Turkey Day, I started out at 8 a.m., meeting up with a Church Group from Colorado Springs, CO, and putting them to work at a couple of houses of families I’m working with. They did painting and caulking at one, and debris removal and clean up in and outside of the house at another. After getting them to the home sites, I picked up a UHaul rental, went downtown to the Holiday Inn, got 12 more beds, came back to St. Bernard Parish and delivered those to people in about eight different stops. Next, I went over to the warehouse where I store things to pick up a sofa, loveseat, coffee table, kitchen table and another bed, and delivered those – all with the help of three young guys from the Colorado Springs group.

Finally, I went by Winn Dixie and picked up a $50 gift card for a woman I’m helping who is living in a hotel paid for by FEMA until her apartment is ready. Her trailer had mold so her and her granddaughter had to move out. They’ve been in the hotel for a couple of weeks now, and needed some help getting food. I finally got around to returning the UHaul at about 6:20 p.m. By the time I got finished showering at my gym and picked up some food at the store for my dinner, it was 7:30. All I wanted to do at this point was go home and kick back.

I don’t know, sitting at home that night, I couldn’t help but get caught up in the irony. This probably sounds like I’m boasting about what I did that day. It’s not. It definitely was pretty exhausting, and not all my days are that productive and physical. A lot of my time now is spent making and receiving calls, making visits to families, trying to come up with ways to garner outside support. Last Wednesday was a really productive day, though. And it was also just ironic. Here I am, so far removed from where I’ve been the past few falls, helping people who were complete strangers in January of this year, just one and two and three years removed from being all concerned about what shirt I’d wear to the Scottsdale hot spots. I can’t say I don’t like doing that still, or wouldn’t like doing that. I do, and I would. But it’s not a priority anymore, and it’s not where I belong, at least not now.

Last Wednesday was a bit tiring, but it definitely was what I was meant to be doing.

NOTE: the picture in the top right was taken on Thanksgiving at the Community Center of St. Bernard. I had dinner there that afternoon. There were about 50 volunteers from James Madison Univ. in Virginia on hand to cook and serve the dinner. Posted this one as I accidentally deleted the pics I had taken from Wednesday, delivering some beds. It was the first time all year that I lost pics from a particular day.

SOME RANDOM THOUGHTS: There is nothing more stressful and dreadful for me these days than to do anything related to my personal finances. Looking at bank statements, going online to bank, calling Bank of America or Fidelity – just downright painful. This is what happens when bi-weekly paychecks in the thousands are no longer a part of one’s life. Ugh. But, I cope. Anyway, last week I had to put in one of those dreaded calls to Fidelity. Their customer service reps usually aren’t too bad, but this one guy I had that particular morning for once made me feel really good by the time I had hung up the phone. Curious about what I was doing in New Orleans, I explained, and he just couldn’t be nicer and more complimentary. I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, I get a bit uneasy with the kudos stuff. I really do want my time here to be about the people and families I’m helping, and not so much me. But I think I really appreciated this guy’s comments because he’s someone who represents one of those big, powerful money machines, a corporation that’s all about bottom line in a world that’s too bottom-line oriented. He basically just said that it was refreshing to know that there are things like this going on out there. Maybe I won’t get any more reps or comments like that, but for one morning and for one phone call – a call I normally dread – this guy helped me feel pretty good about things.

It seems like I’m going into more and more stores that have signs saying “Pull Up Your Pants”, or risk not being served. Yes, things have changed, and not just what I do on the day before Thanksgiving.

I got a call today (Monday) from a couple of administrators over at Andrew Jackson Elementary School. They’ve asked me to be on a committee that helps choose the Students of the Year from the different grade levels. I think by now most who know me know I love that school, and this has to be one of the most rewarding things yet for me – just the fact that they thought of me to do this. Am I choosing the next President of the United States? No. The next CEO of Citigroup? Not quite. But I’m pretty psyched about this. I’m always thrilled to help out at AJ, so on December 5^th I’ll be interviewing a few dozen candidates. Those are interviews I’ll definitely have a smile on for.

Presidential Debate NOT Coming to New Orleans -- A Shame

New Orleans received some bad news Monday when the commission that organizes the Presidential Debates for the upcoming election did not choose it as a host site for one of the scheduled debates in 2008.

Sponsors of the the effort to bring a debate to New Orleans next year were extremely frustrated and disappointed, and I think rightfully so, particularly when the reasoning is considered. I used to reference or throw up the link to more "news-type" stories on here, but have gotten away from that the past few months as most of it is negative and doesn't really help my or anyone else's main focus, which is to just help people keep moving forward in their recovery. I think that this story is worth noting, however. The Editorial that ran in the Tuesday, November 20 edition of The Times-Picayune puts things in proper context:

http://www.nola.com/news/t-p/editorials/index.ssf?/base/news-4/1195570203231660.xml&coll=1

"Yes, Scott". "You know, Scott".

“Yes, Scott. You know, Scott. You know what I mean, Scott. I’m telling you, Scott.”

I wish I could play a tape recording of the conversations I have with some of the residents I work with. For something that probably shouldn’t seem so unusual or in the least bit odd, I can’t seem to shake the fact that I’m intrigued by how many of them always use my name in conversation. Scott seems to be included at the end of just about every sentence. “Yes, Scott”. You know what I mean, Scott”. I don’t recall hearing my name so often in other places, or from other people, be it co-workers, or friends, or even family back home.

I’ve actually noticed this for awhile, and probably have waited to see if it’s unique to a select few residents, or was just a short term trend. But it’s not. In calling a couple of the residents I work with today, I got all of the above ‘Scott punctuated’ comments, and then some. I’m to the point now where I sit on my end of the phone smiling about it.

This probably makes no sense reading it. That’s why I wish I could play a recorded conversation. They’re priceless.

Speaking of conversations, one of the residents I spoke with today, Paula Balbon, was pretty upset. I just called to check in, say hello, see how things were going (I last saw her at the Distribution I had last Saturday), and Paula informed me how her husband Mike (a great guy, they’re both great people really; extremely happy and personable; see pic, top right) has been called off for a 7-month stint in California with the National Guard. Mike, 43, is a career military man who was in the army for years and has been in the Guard now for the last several. They didn’t see this coming, and now boom, he’s gone, seven months, and very unlikely to have a leave.

That’s what he signed up for, so they have to expect things like this to happen, but it is sort of sad in that Paula and Mike were just about ready to move back into their home in Chalmette back here in St. Bernard. When I met them a few weeks ago, it was at the house. They’ve worked hard to fix it back up, and it looks great. It’s all ready to go as far as the rehab, and they just needed furniture and household stuff to fill it with. We (SBRC) are going to help them with that. Last week, they picked up a bed and some chairs from our distribution.

Now, Paula is left to fend for herself until next June. The timing on this one sure stinks.

I’ll tell you what, a friend asked me tonight, what keeps me going, how I cope with the mayhem and some of the stuff I must see and be exposed to here. The answer to that is simple, these people keep me going. All the crap they’ve had to deal with, including being separated from a significant other, for whatever reason (can’t tell you how many couples I’ve met where one is living in one place during the week due to a job and the other is somewhere else), and they just keep persevering. Paula had a trace of sadness in her voice, no doubt, but in between the “You know, Scott”, and “I’m telling you, Scott”, she had her strength. She’ll do what she needs to do. I just hope to help her some more. The motivation to do that – that’s how I cope.