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I've been really battling myself over this last trip to Biloxi (and, if ya' don't believe me, just read my October 19th entry). I did the "list of positives, list of negatives" thing, I've done the "drive to clear your head" thing, I've talked with work friends, friends that I've known since kindergarten, and everyone in-between. The only three people I haven't asked are my parents and my sister. I guess I haven't asked my folks because I don't want them to know that I'm even struggling with this at all. I think they'd just tell me to stop being silly and go. I haven't asked my sister because she's been away all last week on a business trip. So that'd point to "yeah, I should go".

The past 5 trips have been a real mixed bag for me.

Trip 1 was probably the most meaningful for me, as I learned the most and noticed EVERYTHING.

Trip 2 was flat out fun, because I knew more about where I'd be going, who I'd be working with, and the group was small enough and friendly enough that there were no staff issues.

Trip 3 was FAR too much work – there were TOO many people, too many independent folks going wherever, often without checking in, and when we had tornado warnings, I honestly wasn't even sure where more than ½ the team was or how to get ahold of them. I spent too much of my down time being grumpy. Having said that, having a group this large meant that our nightly updates on who had worked on what were a lot more interesting to me, because I often was unaware as to what the rest of the team had done all day. We also had the BEST group down-times (even with my mood) because there was SO much energy to play off from.

Trip 4 was a chore, because of three things: (1) I knew that my two closest friends (Jim and Nancy) wouldn't be there; (2) "Captain KillJoy" was our team leader and he turned out to be a well-intentioned ass-wipe; and (3) another member of our team made a bunch of pretty ugly assumptions about yours truly.

Trip 5 was good, if not rather quiet. We were a tiny group, we spent the week doing one task, but we had a good time on our off-hours and the other two members of the team had a MOSTLY open mind about us being there. OH, I'll add that this was probably the MOST educational trip because a friend of mine who lives in Louisiana met us for lunch and addressed the issues between Mississippi and Louisiana.

So I don't really know what Trip 6 will bring for me. My goal is, of course, closure. I'm 95% certain that any future trips to this area will NOT be made with my current employer. I'm 100% sure that any future work I do with the non-profit that I've teamed with to do this type of work will be somewhere else, because they'll be closing down their Mississippi site at the end of this year. (And yes, they've already opened up in San Diego, CA.) All signs point to this being my last visit to Pass Road in Gulfport, MS and I wanna do my best to sum it all up.

But, to do that, I have to go.

So stay tuned – Biloxi Blog, Week 6 starts next Sunday, November 4th.

Well come on and let me know - should I stay or should I go?

Well, Dad had his 4:30pm appt on Wednesday with his regular doctor, and a cardiologist. They reviewed what tests had been done, the results FROM those tests, xrays, dyes injected, blah blah blah. They noticed that the massive blood thinners they'd injected into him had awakened the gout in his knee, and that even WITH all the meds in him, the upper chambers of his heart were STILL working double-time, so they admitted him to the ICU.

It's a strange dance – when you wish, hope, pray for something, and your wish comes true, your hope becomes fruition, or your prayer is answered … and you realize you'd wished, hoped, prayed for the wrong thing. We're a greedy lot, we humans. We get what we ask for and keep our hands raised saying "whoops – what I MEANT to say was ..." The prayers went something like "please get him back home safely". Can't say that wasn't answered. This was how it was meant to be, I am NOT questioning it. I just … I can't say I love it all that much.

So late Thursday afternoon, he was moved from the ICU to a regular room. The head of the Cardiology unit likes firefighters, so he's taken a special interest in my father's health. As such, the current plan of attack is that my father will go on massive blood thinners that he'll both inject and ingest, for three weeks. Every other day, he'll have to submit to blood work at the hospital. At the end of three weeks, the thinners should have done their work, and they'll sedate him and give the upper chambers of his heart a VERY MINOR shock, in an effort to realign the beats of the upper and lower chambers of his heart. The theory on this is that three weeks will thin his blood enough to allow for this small 'jump' to occur without causing any further damage.

And, while it's NOT about me … three weeks from now is when I would be scheduled for Biloxi.

See – THIS is where being an adult completely and totally blows. I know that I've said these trips will happen WITH OR WITHOUT ME, and they would. Hell, no one gave Eva, Kerry Ann, Paula or I any direction when we took this trip the first time, so I'm VERY confident that the team in November would have no issues finding their way around sans my involvement. So I can't say that I "gotta be there for the team" 'cause that's just exquisite bullshit. There's a part of me – a loud, self-serving, egotistical, self-absorbed part of me that wants to see this through. And that's NOT why I should go, and I know this … but closure. Damn it all, there's just *so much in my life that I've never had closure to* and I really don't want to add this project onto the already listing pile.

So ya' know how everyone keeps saying that my doing this work is just so great and giving and all? Truth is – honest – it's not. I get SO much outta doing it, I feel like I should be paying to have the option to do it. I know that I shouldn't go and I know that I can't stop living my life and wait by the phone for good (or bad) news. I know that I SHOULD go and I know that I will never, ever forgive myself if my mother is dealt another blow without having at least one daughter by her side.

Honestly – I'd like to open this up. I've heard stories already that range from "go and call them everyday and know that you can ALWAYS get on a plane and come home in less than 12 hours" to "I went, against my own wishes, and my father passed away less than 24 hours after I'd left". I'm NOT asking anyone to relive anything painful. I'm just … well, I'm a little lost and kinda fuzzy.

So whatcha got? Anyone?

Week Five, Day Seven

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Saturday ... A "p.s." from me to you. Consider this a director's cut on a DVD
The people I've met - Joe the Salvation Army worker at Volunteer Village that Paula and I took a photo with way back in October 2006, Seth who works the Kitchen, Aisha who runs the Village cafeteria, Steve the senior member of the Hands-On camp (both in length of stay and probably in age), "Falcon" who has moved into New Orleans to continue her work after her original contract with AmeriCorps expired - have made such an impact on me. Much like the barista at "The Joy of Coffee" who knew my order after one visit, I will always associate them with Mississippi. When I see Ryan L's truck rolling down Division Street, I'm surprised he isn't driving it, 'tho I know he and his wife Kelly returned to their Oregon home in 2006. At lunch throughout the week, eating while facing what I guess used to be Jim and Nancy's "Montana" trailer, I nearly seem them both in every part of this town.

I know that Bill was prepared to do far more than painting this week, and he may feel like he didn't make that big of an impact, 'tho I hope I'm mistaken. Having us paint this week allowed for Doug and his crew to hang cabinets in another Biloxi resident's home. It allowed for shade structures to be added to local parks and playgrounds so that children can enjoy them. It freed up other long-termers that, quite frankly, we probably would have needed a lot of coaching to do ourselves.

Ling amazed me, too. She had literally just returned from a trip to our APAC offices and dealt with jet lag, new food, a very different culture, and less-than-ideal temperatures with grace and humor. She was totally game for all of it, asking questions and learning as much as she could. I'll be interested to read what both my co-workers thought of their overall experience.

As for me, this trip brought me even closer to a part of the country that I already treasure. I never go away without seeing something new - be it actual street signs or working stoplights - and a renewed sense of awe and wonder at the residents of this area and what they are capable of managing.

I know when I return in just over two months, there will likely be a whole bunch of new faces at camp - kids, really - with a goal of helping total strangers recover, rebuild, and renew their relationship with East Biloxi. I wonder if they know how much it will mean to those that live here and I doubt that they understand how much they will get out of it in return. For me, my work in East Biloxi remains an "obvious nicety" that makes all the bruising, sweat-equity, and fingernail-bashing a very small price to pay.

I have no regrets.
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Week Five, Day Six

Friday ...

Something kind of incredible happened today that has very little to do with why we're here but it really impressed me. We returned to "The Joy of Coffee" on our way to the Parker home today and we stood in line. "Joy", as our camp mates refer to it, is just outside the security gates to Keesler Air Force Base. The shop is open for breakfast and lunch and I'd imagine the barista must see 200 or so folks in the morning hours alone. When I began to place my order, before I could get a word out, she recited what my drink order was from yesterday. This person has seen me one time - for less than a minute - and she knew my order. I've done her job before, so I respect what she does but ... well heck, that's an impressive skill. So, a note to November folks who will be Biloxi-bound: "Joy of Coffee" all the way at the end of Pass Road is a good place for your morning coffee fix.

We head to the Parker home for the last time this week and get to work.

About 9:20am, I see I have a message on my blackberry and I smile when I read the note from Jim P. He's been following the weather this week and tells us we're troopers. At lunch, I ask Aisha if August was this hot two years ago. "Yeah, August is always rough", she says. So two years ago, in this kind of weather, people were in their attics with no air conditioning, no electricity, no water supply, wondering when Katrina would be over and what their homes would look like afterwards. Maybe my sniffles and the hot weather isn't so bad after all.

While at lunch inside the air-conditioned village camp, I notice someone had a sense of humor in that they built a wooden cut-out of a fireplace and painted in a fire (as though this place NEEDS a fireplace).

On closer inspection, I notice the mantle with hooks, kind of like the ones you'd use for hanging your Christmas stockings. Maybe this wasn't supposed to be funny after all. Maybe Jim and his crew hung their stockings here over the holidays to try and make all this a little more bearable.

We eat lunch pretty quick, which allows for time to catch a catnap or talk with the new friends we've gotten to know this week. I use the time to visit some of my favorite spots ... Mr. Lee's home along with Miss Iona's and Miss Cora's (where I notice the flower patch under the address marker is in full bloom ... AND that she's had her single-wide trailer removed), and I revisit John Henry Beck Park to take a photo of "George's bench".

As I'm parking off the edge of the street to take my photo of the bench, I look on the opposite side of the street to 227 Elmer. It's a cute little brick house that's been gutted and is ready for the next step. I wonder if it will have changed by November when I return for the last 2007 trip.

Before we wrap for the day, we'll have completed all the baseboard painting, painted all of the doors and windows at least once, and left a note for the next crew so they know where to pick up for next week. We'll have handed the keys to Miss Parker's home back to Mike, and I'll have taken a moment for a photo with my friend Richard, who may still be here when I return in a few months.

We drive by the building in Biloxi with the witch weather vane, past the Waffle House, and past the White Pillars building with the misspelled sign, identifying it as a "Historical Sight", which neither Ling nor I can resist.

We roll into camp and take our showers. Others are packing for their departure home tomorrow but that can wait for now. After dinner, we decide to treat ourselves to a trip to Starbucks. However, between my flu, the heat, and the lack of real sleep (plus an interstate with signs that jump from Exit 46 to Exit 50), we wind up going for a drive instead. I'm disappointed in myself - after 5 trips here, I thought I'd have things fairly well mapped out by now. I haven't gotten turned around once this week ... but I guess I was due. (Note to future teams: It's not "Exit 49", it's HIGHWAY 49", the same road that takes you out to I-10 from Pass Road.)

We roll into camp and Bill borrows the van keys and takes a long-termer with him to find some dinner. I trudge upstairs after taking some photos around camp, and I see that Bill has added his shirt to the wall.
(If the photo doesn't do it justice, what he wrote is worth sharing here: "I came here not knowing what to expect. As a volunteer of 7 years, I needed to "go bigger". What better way then to come here and work with a group of people to provide support to those that need it. You should all be extremely proud, as I am grateful. In such a short time, I did what I could. However, it's about the progress made. Moving forward, I can't say that I'll ever be here again, but I will remember it always. I've met some great people, and our chats will stick with me as I move forward. This will be an experience I will share with many, as it's a story that needs to be told.")

There is a board outlining the week of activities all around the 2nd year anniversary of Katrina (at the end of this month).

Two years. It's been two years.

I remind myself that I'll need to update the company banner for our April/August/November '07 volunteers. I fall asleep quickly, wondering what Biloxi will look like in November.

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My thanks to the company for continuing to stand behind this program and my unending gratitude to Denise, Julie, and Tom for allowing me to be a part of this work. A massive round of applause to Ling "Toasted Tofu" and Bill "The Pirate" for enduring what has been THE WARMEST of all the trips to Biloxi thus far.

Hugs to my inner circle for their support, positive emails, and somewhat painful reminders of the glorious weather waiting for me back home.

One more chance for the rest of you awaits in November ... so who's in?

Take fun. Have care. Be good. - Jules

Week Five, Day Five

Thursday ...
Well, I'm still sick but painting doesn't require me to feel well. We stop at a different coffee shop this morning per Doug's recommendation ("The Joy Of Coffee") and head to work. We finish the baseboard painting pretty early on, strip away the paper from the floor, and get started on the windows.

Only 30 minutes into our day, Mike asks us to meet his co-worker, Jenny, at his office. While we want to see the other AFH homes, we know this is the coolest part of the day. However, we know this will be time well spent so we close up the Parker Home and head over to the AFH offices.

Jenny greets us and tell us she wants to tour the area a bit. Our first stop is the Nguyen Home.

The Nguyen family has called Biloxi home for many decades and they knew they wanted to stay here after Katrina, but I wonder if they (or any of the families behind any of the rebuild projects) knew what that would require of them.

Mr. and Mrs. Nguyen have a good sized lot, and Mr. Nguyen has gardening skills like I've never witnessed (Miss Iona and my own mother included). Even in this heat, in a seemingly "empty" garden, there are large, long green squashes hanging from vines all over the place, chickens roaming about happily pecking at the dirt, and water-herbs growing from a now-repurposed canoe.


The Nguyens have 4 children - three boys and one girl. They are living in a single-wide trailer on their property with their dog while their home is being rebuilt. They leave their refrigerator outdoors, to create more room inside (and because the heat generated from the unit would only add to the uncomfortable temperature inside).


I remember Paula from Week #1 '06 asking if that wouldn't be even more frustrating for families - being *that* close to your home but not being able to make the process go any faster. Now it's a year later - and six folks (and the family dog) are living in a single-wide trailer on their land. They're seeing progress through, so hopefully that's enough to provide hope to the Nguyens that they'll be home again soon - depending on how you define "soon".

Jenny takes us to a few other projects that AFH is involved with and since she's just returned from a mini-vacation, she's excited to see the progress that's been made. We wrap things up at a local park, where she invites us to sit down on a bench. "It's perfectly designed", she says. With all the need all around, it may seem weird that a park bench would get noticed - but as I sit down, I see (or, more accurately, I feel) what she means. Turns out that bench was built by George, our Hands-On captain for Week #4 and yes, it is very comfortable. And shouldn't a little time be spent on things that make this all a little easier?

The morning passes, and we head to Volunteer Village for lunch. Ling and Bill eat outside but my cold just won't let me spend any extra time in extreme temperatures like that. After Ling finishes her lunch, she finds a couch inside the village and takes a nap. It's not that the work that we've been doing requires a lot of us - but honestly, being in this heat and doing anything at all DOES require a lot.

The afternoon passes pretty quickly and after time to clean up and recharge, we head off to dinner. We pick up Doug, who lives off campus, and head to The Shed, where I know *amazing* BBQ waits.

During the drive over, Doug tells us that his last day here is coming in October and, while it will be difficult to say goodbye to the friends he has made here, he has family back home (San Jose, CA) that he misses and wants to see. In the same breath, he admits that if another hurricane should strike this area, he wouldn't hesitate to return. "They're my friends. We drive each other nuts. We argue. We fight. We yell and get really worked up over lots of things, but we each have the other person's back, no matter what."


We spend several hours with Doug at The Shed, and I make sure to update our visit log on the ceiling with today's date. I leave enough room for a November entry and rejoin the team. We drive back to camp, after thanking Doug for joining us. Tomorrow we'll wrap up what we can and hopefully the heat will lighten up just a bit.

Week Five, Day Four

Wednesday ...
If it's Wednesday, it must mean rain ... except, happily, NOT this time. This is the first rain-free Wednesday I've spent in Biloxi, MS.

We meet downstairs at camp and drive to Waffle House.


We're served by a waitress who has been an employee since 1989 and her name tag identifies her as "Brat". Bill decides this is so unique that he asks her to sign his volunteer shirt. (He's asking all those he meets to do this, and plans to preserve it and hang it in his garage back home.)

We work for a bit in each room of the Parker Home - either taping, sanding, dusting, painting,
or scraping off edges - and mid-morning, I see Miss Parker pull up. I ask the team to take a break and come and meet our homeowner. Despite not moving into her home this week (as originally planned), she's in great spirits. She tells me that she would like to be in her home by her birthday in October, and while there are lots of details still to be done, I'd say she'll get her birthday wish.

We clean up for lunch and head to Mary Mahoney's. I want Ling and Bill to notice the history of the restaurant, and it's also where I've arranged for my friend, Nowal, to spend some time with us.

Nowal was working in Mississippi when Katrina came ashore. She and her husband live in St. Bernard's Parish in Louisiana, so I knew she'd be more than qualified to talk about the differences between the two states where Katrina is involved. One thing she tells us is that rebuilding is slow not because of the lack of skilled labor, or the difficulties of reaching home owners, but because residents of both states have not yet received federal and/or state payments. So, if you're rebuilding today without a non-profit org. backing you, you're paying for it out of your own pocket. In fact, you can't even count on your insurance payment already having happened either. I think of the people I've met on my 5 weeks here and I know none of them would have the kind of disposable income it would take to accomplish this task.

After some photos (and another autograph on Bill's shirt), we head back to work. I can't speak for Ling or Bill but with the information Nowal shared echoing in my head, and the continuing blast of heat, it was a slow afternoon. I thought maybe the heat was more manageable for Ling and Bill, until Ling wondered aloud if Iraq is as hot. I'm sure that it is, but there probably aren't too many other places that would be on the list. I also haven't yet shared with them that I'm coming down with the flu.

We head back to camp at the end of the day and, after dinner, I finally totally give into my cold. I go to the local drugstore for some medicine and hit my mattress at 8:15pm. With this heat and my cold, I don't expect to sleep well, but I really hope that I do.

Week Five, Day Three

Tuesday ...

We began our day by stopping at the Katrina Memorial. Since I saw it in April, they've cleaned it a bit and resealed it from moisture. I can tell because some of the items I remember are no longer there - and there are new pieces in the box. As we drive over to the Parker home to begin a sanding/dusting/painting day, I look at the clock and thermometer in the vehicle. At 7:40am, it shoes well above 80F. Clearly this isn't accurate. I mean, it just CAN'T be, right?

(The blurry photo I've pasted below shows 90F inside the Parker home ... at 8:25am.)

By 10:30am, we take a break from our taping work

and drive to the village to cool off. The village is air-conditioned and right now, that's a bigger draw than anything else found there (water, power, snacks). The thermometer says something like 96F.

At lunch, Bill spends some time getting to know Edwin and Susan Britt who now run Volunteer Village for the Salvation Army. (The photo is Edwin with Ling and Bill outside the high water mark at the village.)

Ling sinks into a couch and catches up on email. I keep trying to motivate myself to eat lunch, but it's just too hot for that. In fact, it's too hot for anything. It's a lot like when you're not feeling well - you decide that you need to focus on anything BUT not feeling well, and then you find that's all your brain will allow you to do.

We return to the Parker home and find Art, a local electrician, is installing plugs, switches, and plates throughout the house. During a break, I learn that Art was doing this work before Katrina and afterwards, he has worked with all the recovery crews on an as-needed, on-call basis. He also tells me that calls are coming slower and slower these days. I'd *like* to think that there's less need for his services due to work being completed, but the truth is that there's less need for his services because work is dwindling off. Nearly 2 years after Katrina, in this area at least, you've either started to rebuild, or you maybe aren't going to. I don't know who is in charge of making these decisions - or how they go about contacting the home owners - but I wouldn't want that job.

I also took a look outside the living room windows and reminded myself of how cool - by comparison, anyway - April felt when we were planting these trees.

After we knock off work for the day and take our showers, I drive the team to Aunt Jenny's for some catfish and, more importantly, some deep fried dill pickle slices.

As the dish arrives, Ling and Bill both are hesitant, but after a few chips, they both admit they could easily clean the plate.

After stopping to admire the view in the back of Aunt Jenny's, we head back to camp - full of great food, tired from a VERY hot day, and looking forward to hopefully accomplishing a lot tomorrow.

We have a couple of fun things planned for Wednesday - a breakfast tradition that each team has experienced, and a special lunch session with a local friend of mine to hear the contrast of Katrina in Mississippi vs. Louisiana. It should be a heck of a day, so I'm not gonna feel too badly about not having loads to write about today. Tomorrow will be VERY educational for all of us.