A bigger and more visible dent in the donations here in PascagoulaJudging by the paint angel on the wall of the water closet I was working on earlier this afternoon - and the globs of Waverly Home Classics "Sandy Shell" paint all over my clothes, I would guess that today really is a good day for some down time. Since my mother just informed me that she now knows for sure that her smoke detector works at home -- I think she feels the same way.
When we woke up this morning the skies were cloudy and gray. There was a tiny bit of distant thunder and then the winds started picking up. Dave and I tried to speak of it casually - commenting that the small storms that come up sometimes can be just as violent as a hurricane only they're usually short-lived by comparison. By the time the rain started I was pacing like a caged cat.
Our friend, Pia, arrived just after 9 am as promised and we immediately started sorting stacks of clothes and packing boxes for the families she knew who needed them. We chatted as we worked. She told me she found herself crying all the time over just about anything. We giggled and exchanged triggers for spontaneous crying episodes: cute kittens, television programs (not just the sad ones - we don't even put ourselves through sad ones...), sporting events, washing the car, the sound of babies crying, sitting quietly, waking up in the morning, running out of toilet paper -- there were hundreds of them.
Just then Pia hit upon the one that made me gasp and spin around to say, "You too????" She said, "And if it rains outside... I have to call my husband and say, 'It's raining outside.. there is water in the street.. Did you hear me? It's raining.'" It was so validating to hear it from someone else's lips. Just this morning as I paced looking out the window I kept worrying about Pia driving over in such horrible conditions. Nevermind that it was barely raining and it lasted for about ten minutes tops -- I sensed danger.
Even when the sun came back out and Mom arrived to plan the day with us -- none of us really seemed to want to go out. I find myself assuming that no one in their right mind in this post-Katrina world would want to be outside when the ground is still wet. Yes - I understand that a post-Katrina 'right mind' may vary some from the average 'right mind' that remains untouched by the post-Katrina lunacy.
It reminds me of the conversation I had with my very best friend from college a couple of days ago. She's living in Long Beach again after four months of sleeping in hotels, shelters, borrowed living rooms, etc. Now she shares a 23 foot FEMA trailer just outside what she lovingly refers to as her rotting home with her three young children, a guinea pig, and a rabbit.
"I'm nuts -- a complete wacko." She said this with a lilt to her voice that led me to believe she knew what she was talking about. I asked her about trailer life and she explained aside from nearly freezing to death one night and nearly suffocating from the heat the next... It's all good.
"I have a crock pot, " she said, "but I am not sane enough to use it." She can't cook on the propane stove in the trailer because it uses up the propane so quickly which is also used to heat the trailer and if it runs out she will surely freeze... and besides she has to wait for her father to drive over from wherever it is that they are camped out in Pass Christian to switch out tanks for her because she is afraid she doesn't know how to do it without blowing herself, her family, and her entire block to kingdom-come (which, on the other hand, could turn out to be something of an improvement in her neighborhood considering the number of homes that have to be bull-dozed).
"Sure," she said, "I find it difficult. When I have to drive a few miles through war-zone debris to the local grocery store that still has plywood over the windows and pick through whatever is left on the shelves while my three children run around the store in circles -- I find it a bit difficult to plan the family menu." She grabs whatever is nearby on the shelves and tries to sort it out when she gets it back to the trailer.
"Last night we had tacos with no meat. I told the kids it was a new trend - just use extra taco sauce and you won't notice there's no meat. So - what'd you have?"
"We had scrambled eggs on hot dog buns. Quite tasty."
"Yep. That's what crazy people eat -- we're all crazy people now."
Brave Pia took four boxes with her to deliver to the families on her list when she left this morning. I was very grateful to know that something would be done for someone today - in spite of our reticence. Tomorrow's forecast isn't calling for rain - and I'm sure we'll be ready to venture out again then.
For now - we go back to painting. I have to go cover the spot where I stepped off the ladder into the wall and left a perfect imprint of myself there before it dries. In spite of Dave's protests I refuse to leave it as a permanent tribute.
Sometimes I wonder if those who wield the 'for sale' signs value sanity more than the rest of us.
When we woke up this morning the skies were cloudy and gray. There was a tiny bit of distant thunder and then the winds started picking up. Dave and I tried to speak of it casually - commenting that the small storms that come up sometimes can be just as violent as a hurricane only they're usually short-lived by comparison. By the time the rain started I was pacing like a caged cat.
Our friend, Pia, arrived just after 9 am as promised and we immediately started sorting stacks of clothes and packing boxes for the families she knew who needed them. We chatted as we worked. She told me she found herself crying all the time over just about anything. We giggled and exchanged triggers for spontaneous crying episodes: cute kittens, television programs (not just the sad ones - we don't even put ourselves through sad ones...), sporting events, washing the car, the sound of babies crying, sitting quietly, waking up in the morning, running out of toilet paper -- there were hundreds of them.
Just then Pia hit upon the one that made me gasp and spin around to say, "You too????" She said, "And if it rains outside... I have to call my husband and say, 'It's raining outside.. there is water in the street.. Did you hear me? It's raining.'" It was so validating to hear it from someone else's lips. Just this morning as I paced looking out the window I kept worrying about Pia driving over in such horrible conditions. Nevermind that it was barely raining and it lasted for about ten minutes tops -- I sensed danger.
Even when the sun came back out and Mom arrived to plan the day with us -- none of us really seemed to want to go out. I find myself assuming that no one in their right mind in this post-Katrina world would want to be outside when the ground is still wet. Yes - I understand that a post-Katrina 'right mind' may vary some from the average 'right mind' that remains untouched by the post-Katrina lunacy.
It reminds me of the conversation I had with my very best friend from college a couple of days ago. She's living in Long Beach again after four months of sleeping in hotels, shelters, borrowed living rooms, etc. Now she shares a 23 foot FEMA trailer just outside what she lovingly refers to as her rotting home with her three young children, a guinea pig, and a rabbit.
"I'm nuts -- a complete wacko." She said this with a lilt to her voice that led me to believe she knew what she was talking about. I asked her about trailer life and she explained aside from nearly freezing to death one night and nearly suffocating from the heat the next... It's all good.
"I have a crock pot, " she said, "but I am not sane enough to use it." She can't cook on the propane stove in the trailer because it uses up the propane so quickly which is also used to heat the trailer and if it runs out she will surely freeze... and besides she has to wait for her father to drive over from wherever it is that they are camped out in Pass Christian to switch out tanks for her because she is afraid she doesn't know how to do it without blowing herself, her family, and her entire block to kingdom-come (which, on the other hand, could turn out to be something of an improvement in her neighborhood considering the number of homes that have to be bull-dozed).
"Sure," she said, "I find it difficult. When I have to drive a few miles through war-zone debris to the local grocery store that still has plywood over the windows and pick through whatever is left on the shelves while my three children run around the store in circles -- I find it a bit difficult to plan the family menu." She grabs whatever is nearby on the shelves and tries to sort it out when she gets it back to the trailer.
"Last night we had tacos with no meat. I told the kids it was a new trend - just use extra taco sauce and you won't notice there's no meat. So - what'd you have?"
"We had scrambled eggs on hot dog buns. Quite tasty."
"Yep. That's what crazy people eat -- we're all crazy people now."
Brave Pia took four boxes with her to deliver to the families on her list when she left this morning. I was very grateful to know that something would be done for someone today - in spite of our reticence. Tomorrow's forecast isn't calling for rain - and I'm sure we'll be ready to venture out again then.
For now - we go back to painting. I have to go cover the spot where I stepped off the ladder into the wall and left a perfect imprint of myself there before it dries. In spite of Dave's protests I refuse to leave it as a permanent tribute.
Sometimes I wonder if those who wield the 'for sale' signs value sanity more than the rest of us.
1 comment:
Y'all are doing wonderful things for Katrina survivors. Thank you. We drove through the very eastern part of Slidell yesterday. It's hard to believe the destruction. It's as if time stopped on August 29th over there. Yep, I too cry at the drop of a hat. Katrina depression is widespread.
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