Day 4

Late night on Day 4 ( I think…)
WARNING! WARNING! IT’S A L O N G BARBIE BLOG!!!

It’s Saturday night and ALL IS WELL! Okay, so not ALL is well, but there are many good things! The A-#1 good thing is that right now I am on my very own mattress! For the past three nights the group of us from RUCC have been on cots…very narrow cots with metal bars going down the sides. All around us were women who had gotten here before us who had claimed the mattresses and box springs. I never thought I would so covet a bare mattress on the floor, nor did I think I would feel so blessed when some folks left and we were able to commandeer four for us. I feel bad that Deb left before she got to this level of comfort – oops, I forgot she’s home right now soaking in her tub and then tucking herself into her nice bed with real sheets!

Lou and Deb left today after three days of intense work. We finished mucking out one of the most difficult houses we have worked on, then came back to the school to eat lunch and say our goodbyes. So, Lou and Deb if you’re reading this, please know you are truly loved and missed. Sarah doesn’t laugh nearly as much and we surely miss the ramp magic you brought!

See, here’s the thing about being here. Your whole perspective changes… A door that’s been taken off its hinges becomes a safer surface to roll a wheelbarrow over. A new, raw piece of wood – that’s not plywood - on the outside of a house is a sign of hope. When you see a 0 in the bottom triangle of an X it means no bodies were found in the house – that’s a big celebration! Back at the school, when the showers are hot and there are no lines it’s time to whoop and holler! (That’s a southern phrase!) And when there’s something green on the dinner plate it’s a delicacy. When you’re heading to a worksite and there are street signs it’s miraculous. And when you’re digging through a pile of stuff, and find a photograph, it’s a true treasure. When a picture of someone you don’t know, or a weather report from a father to his son at college makes you weep, you know your soul has been changed.

Today we went back to finish mucking a house from two days ago. It was a brick house with hardwood flooring. The floor is about 18 inches off the ground and there is no slab underneath. Since many of the floorboards had buckled and/or broken we had to design a new floor to roll the wheelbarrows across and work on. We took a gate from the fence outside, and a door off the shed out back. From these we fashioned a living room floor that would support us. We got everything mucked out and all the sheetrock taken down and out.

If you're having trouble visualizing the “mucking” process, take a moment to look around, or think about your house. Notice all the large pieces of furniture – the beds, the toys, the desks, tables and chairs. Think about the places you store things – your closets, your pantry, your chest of drawers, toy chests, trunks, china cabinets and cupboards. Think through your canned goods, your cleaning supplies, the contents of your refrigerator and your medicine cabinet. Look at all the stuff. Notice how many books you have, how many photo albums, how much computer and video equipment you have. Now think (or walk) about your garage. Think through your car and supplies for it. What else is there? (For me we have two two-car garages and can’t fit one car inside because of all the stuff.) Now that you have imagined everything you own, think about your house, garage, neighborhood and the town submerged in anywhere from 5 – 20 feet of water. Imagine that an oil tanker ruptured nearby and not only is your stuff soaking in water, but there is also oil covering everything. Notice how the water surges in and picks the things up, how all of it floats and moves about. Let the water stay in there at varying levels for a number of days. Then, when the water recedes, let the house sit for 16 months. Watch it bake in the sweltering heat of summer. Watch as mice, rats, snakes and roaches invade, burying themselves in all that stuff. Notice that in some places the plaster or sheetrock has come off and the insulation inside the walls is decomposing. The ceiling has come down in much of the house and has melded into the carpet on the floor. Throw into the mix the stench of the rotted food, stagnant water and mold that abounds everywhere.

Now imagine 8-15 volunteers (that’s us!) who are armored with bandanas, eye protection, gloves, masks and really ugly clothes. (After all, no one wants to go into this wearing anything they care about!) They have been given wheelbarrows, scoop shovels, flat shovels, crowbars (LOTS of crowbars!), a saw, some hammers, brooms, a dolly or two and a few other tools. With that, they will remove all the stuff from your house, garage and any other buildings on your property. All the piles of moldy, still-wet furniture, beds, clothes, refrigerator, freezer, ovens, appliances, all the stuff. It all goes in front of your house on the strip between the sidewalk and the street. (Don’t worry about embarrassment, everyone else in your city is doing or has done or most unfortunately is still hoping to do the very same thing!) Since the stuff won’t fit, no matter how high they make the pile, it will stretch from your driveway all the way to the middle of your next-door neighbor’s lot. (Again, don’t worry, because chances are, your next-door neighbor’s house isn’t even there anymore.)

After all the stuff (notice, I’m obsessing on that word) is removed, the volunteers start to work on the structure of your house. They take down all the doors, door jams and frames. They remove all the molding and floorboards. They take up the carpet and padding from each room, hoisting it out to the street with all the stuff. All the sinks are removed, and the showers and baths are stripped down to just the porcelain and fixtures. Then in a whirlwind you can’t imagine, cabinets are sledge-hammered by two 15 year old boys; an 11 year-old red headed kid and a minister compete to see who can take the biggest strip of wall down, and the wheelbarrows continue going out to the street. Safety is always a major concern as nails are now sticking out of almost everything, and there is not a piece of metal that is not being eaten up by rust. Rats are seen, mice scurry and cockroaches that have grown as big as small dogs (okay, maybe not quite, but close!) run for their lives as their habitat is being destroyed. By the end of the day, (yes folks, it takes about 1 day for a crew to muck one house,) there are no doors, walls, ceilings or fixtures in the house. When you stand at the front door, you can see every square inch of your house.

It’s now that the muckers leave and the rebuilding can begin…that is of course if the EPA comes and takes away all the hazardous materials and all the electronics from the special places the volunteers have put them. AND, if FEMA comes and picks up your pile in front of your house. And, if you are somewhat wealthy, because your homeowner insurance policy is running you in circles refusing to pay. AND if you happen to be a licensed contractor who can do your own work, or if you at least know enough to hire a reputable one, because many do substandard work and will rip you off. AND, if you really want to stay and rebuild, because of the 20 houses closest to you, 2 are rebuilt, 3 are in the process, 6 have disappeared, and 9 still stand vacant with no doors or windows.

I know I was trying to take you through the mucking process, and ended with the political, emotional and psychological nightmare these people are living with, but it does sit very heavy in my heart. There are absolutely no easy answers, and there is blame enough for everyone (all of us included). But all we can do right now is “Keep on Muckin’, because come 12:00 noon on January 1st, we’re back at it again!

Between now and then we’re taking a few hours for R&R and checking into a hotel for nice long soaks in a tub and hopefully to ring in the new year with the hope, spirit and jazz that is still present here in New Orleans! - Barbie