Biloxi Photos

I've uploaded to my Flickr account some photographs I took while I was in Biloxi.

I'm Home

I'm home again. Actually, I've been home since last Thursday night (October 27).

I'd bought a round trip ticket and arbitrarily chose a return flight 28 days after my departure for Biloxi. As time progressed, I expected that I would want to change my reservation, postponing my return. However, during the weekend before my scheduled return I experienced a very intense need to come home and be close to the people I love, and chose to take my scheduled flight home.

I didn't dream very much at all when I was in Biloxi – at least, not dreams that I could recall in the morning. Every night since my return, though, I've dreamed about living in or cleaning up piles of debris.

Meet on the Ledge

I've been working with Hands On USA, a sister organization to Hands On Thailand, formed in response to the Indian Ocean tsunami last Christmas. Today, Wednesday, is our day off, for people who have been working hard for the previous six days.

The best part of my workday is the morning, when the crews are heading out into the field. I can't explain the feeling of joy and pride that I feel when the trucks pulling the front-loaders and back-hoes pull out of the parking lot. Part of it is that the heavy equipment can make my own work easier. I've been working on a tree crew, cutting up fallen trees and hauling them to the curb to be loaded into dump trucks hired by the city. One front-loader can make a big difference in how long it takes to get a massive trunk out of a yard.

One part of my being here that has surprised me has been my exposure to different music: while I've been driven around from job to job, there has generally been a CD playing in the car or pickup truck. I have a new-found appreciation for Willie Nelson, and for an Austin singer-songwriter named Bob Schneider. "Extraordinary how potent cheap music is," quipped Noel Coward in Private Lives. "Cheap" isn't fair, but the power is there: Dave Matthews singing "Where Are You Going" brought unexpected tears to my eyes.

There's a guitar here in the church meeting hall that is the Hands On USA headquarters, and it's available to anyone who wants to play it. That guitar has been quite a consolation to me; I've been playing it every chance I get. And I'm using it to get under my fingers a song that's been an earworm for me the past few days:

Now I see I'm all alone
But that's the only way to be
You'll have yor chance again
Then you can do the work for me....

What's Good About Sunglasses

The sun's bright out there
Sunglasses keep the glare out of your eyes
If you're working
Cleaning debris
Sunglasses'll protect your eyes from
Dust, wood chips, stuff flying around in the air
Even working inside, they'll keep off the dust and black mold
Remember, though
If you're talking to the woman whose
House you're ripping up
The last remnants of whose life
You're piling up on the street for the city to haul away
Take your sunglasses off
So she can look you in the eye
See that you're a human being just like she is
But put them on again when you're through talking
Because the really great thing about sunglasses is
They hide the tears

for Veronica

Greetings From Sunny Biloxi, Mississippi

I'm alive, well, and working my tail off.

I'm living in a tent suburb - like a tent city, only safer and with better schools - in back of a church. I'm spending my days driving around in a pickup truck with guys I connected with through Katrina Direct Relief. We hand out things like bottled water, mops, buckets, chlorine bleach, and miscellaneous things that the guys came with. We talk to the people who we meet and find out what sort of needs they have clearing debris out of yards and homes. It takes about five minutes of driving to find enough volunteer work to keep us busy all day long.

Gulfport and the western part of Biloxi look almost normal, except for the occasional spraypainted plywood signs that read "Open for business!" or "Now Hiring!" Wal-Mart is open, as is Winn-Dixie, Taco Bell, and a host of other businesses. East Biloxi is entirely another matter. Parts of the city were completely flattened. Residents are living in tents, or under tarpaulins nailed to frameworks made of two-by-fours. A lot of people are shellshocked, with that characteristic thousand-yard stare. When the wind blows from the ruined part of town, you can smell that something-died-in-the-wall smell. The psychic atmosphere is raw and anguished.

My Internet access is spotty, but I may be able to post more than this later.