February 24, 2011 - Again - with special appearance by Ali Z.

Hi!

Welcome all to our 5th full day down here in New Orleans.

Today we split into three teams.  One continued the Mudding job (Joint Compound) in the lower 9th ward.  Its a pretty big job.
The second crew of about 10 led by Jay, Lance & Charley went to a demolition job with about 7 of the teens - about 8 blocks away in the lower 9th.  Sid & I dropped by during lunch to take some pictures of the action. We saw a busy team that was cranking at full force.  They finished their job within the day - quite an accomplishment!  The third team of ours finished up at Mr. West's house.  Again, quite an accomplishment.  So tomorrow will bring us some new jobs that we will find out about tomorrow morning.

Driving between the mudding job and the demo job takes you across many of the back streets.  This is where you really see the destruction. of Katrina.  By my estimates, it seems like 1 of every 3 house in the lower 9th is either under construction or boarded up- or just plain - no longer there anymore. It is striking.  Let's remember - its now 5 1/2 years later.  Yea - quite a while.  They said it would take 10 years.  My estimates say that some parts will take much longer.  The  various crews here, from all over North America make a difference - we see it - sometimes in small ways, but the recovery is happening all around us.  The sad part - without all of the volunteers, many of these parts would be left desolate for many more years to come.

Evening brought a tried crew - mostly from the night before.  But lots of games and fun talk.  Dinner was not great - so many went out for additional food of some kind.

Tomorrow brings us Sha-BarBgras - we head to Tuoro Congregation in New Orleans for 5:00 pot luck dinner, quick service and Mardi Gras parade.   Should be fun!

And now, ace guest blogger, Ali Z....

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<  Ali Z.  >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Today something stuck me on site. As me and my teammates sat to grab water or eat our lunches, we saw a bunch of cars pass us by. Being in this part of the country, most of the drivers we saw were African-American. Of course not everything I've seen in this city is a matter of black and white, but this year I have noticed more when locals realize we don't look quite like their neighbors. The thing that struck me this afternoon was the friendliness and openness of the people that didn't look like us. Although we have run into different kinds of reactions over the week, including confusion and surprise, today every driver and passer-by waved and smiled at us Yankees. It was this acceptance that made me think about the acceptance in America. I think about good old southern hospitality. Acceptance like that of the people here is not an easy thing to come by. And I think of what brought me here. Katrina, yes, but maybe a lack of acceptance too. We all remember, "George Bush hates black people," and other accusations of our government's reluctance to accept. While I don't know exactly what happened in our government when the storm hit, I do know that someone failed to accept the reality of what happened. I think about this and I wish I wasn't here. As much as I love the pulled pork and the beads. As much as I love the weather and Stu Berlowitz. I would love even more to not have to be here. I would love to be able to say that someone, somewhere accepted the people that waved to me today. That someone had taken a stand for them, and accepted them simply as human beings. Someone decided that it was time to accept the realities of a tragedy that actually robbed people of their lives. I want to live a life in which I accept people and their realities, no matter how brutal. A life in which I accept and support people, no matter their color. And a life in which I can help people to accept each other. Because every driver in every car I saw today is a person in the same way that I'm a person. And that's something I never want to neglect, or forget.  Actually, I do wish I could come here. I wish I could come here to wave to all those that were left invisible.