noah's second day

From noah, at the Well. Posted with his permission.

Today was my second day working at the evacuation center.

I arrived a little after 9 a.m. The first person I saw was shooting baskets on one of the goals the City's Parks and Recreation Department had set up for people. One of the things I had noticed on Wednesday was the need for things people could do that would allow them to get out of their own head for a little while. This guy wasn't very good, but it looked like he was at least getting a little peace of mind and enjoying temperatures in the 70s.

I checked in with the public information office and got some assignments. My job, as I said the other day, was going to be escorting media around and answering their questions. There was a noticeable shift in the attitudes among the reporters I encountered. They were a little more predatory today. The shock of actually SEEING the evacuees had worn off, they had seen the stories their peers put together and people were looking a little harder and a little more aggressively. Unfortunately for them, the evacuees' shock was wearing off too. They were a little weary of being treated like a particularly interesting exhibit in a display case. Asking one of them if they'd like to do an interview was usually met with a face that you'd expect if you asked, "Wouldn't you like to paint my house for free?"

About 50 people had left the day before to stay with family members elsewhere. We were expecting more people coming in, but right now, our head count was 335. My first job was a good one. Several people had registered with the Employment Security Commission looking for work. The local CBS affiliate was going to do profiles on some of these people (one a day) listing their particular skillset to see if they could help find them jobs. I was given a list of people and their room assignment. I figured I'd see if they were interested in participating and if they were, I'd give them a time and a place to be.

As I walked around, I noticed the addition of a few services. There was a post office set up and workers were encouraging people to fill out change of address forms so they could get mail. They also had a military post in place. If you had a relative serving overseas, you could make sure they knew you were safe and where to reach you.

I saw some familiar faces. I saw a woman with a t-shirt that said, "I don't suffer from insanity. I'm enjoying every minute of it." That seemed appropriate. Then I spotted the elderly lady who told me that God was going to get George Bush. We rode upstairs in the elevator and I was sort of hoping she'd tell me that God had spoken with her and maybe given her some details on how and when this vengeance would take place.

No luck.

She told me she just wasn't feeling very well and was going to visit the nurse's station. "I've been through worse things than this, child," she told me. "I went through Betsy and I managed to do okay. I'll get through this as well."

I started on knocking on doors and quickly discovered that most people weren't just waiting around today. A lot of the kids had been enrolled in schools, so the adults were on their own today. Most of them were out looking for work, looking for an apartment, and trying to start the process of rebuilding their lives. One person I did run into was my Australian friend from Wednesday. I believe I said his name was Steven Hose...it turns out it was Kevin Hose. He told me that his mother and father had been worried sick and were greatly relieved to hear from him. A computer bank had been set up at the facility and he'd even gotten a Hotmail account and was emailing his story back to his people and they were sharing it with friends and neighbors.

"So...what's next?" I asked him. "What are you up to? What are you going to do."

"I live here!" he told me excitedly. "This place is great. I met the head of the North Carolina Restaurant's Association and told him about what I had been doing in New Orleans and he got me a job!"

I welcomed him to the neighborhood and we traded email addresses.

Next, I ran into the owners of the Schnauzer I mentioned on Wednesday. The man's name was Malcolm Flot (I think I have that name last night) and his wife Wanda Timpton and her two daughters. Malcolm was petting on the dog by the kennels behind the facility. His wife was on the phone with one of her relatives letting them know that they were safe. Malcolm told me he had a job lined up as well and that the family was also going to make Raleigh their new home. I congratulated him and he said they were going to try and get a rental car. They had lost their car in the flood and hoped insurance would provide them with enough money to get a replacement. Eventually, Wanda traded places with Malcolm and she told me about the finding the first floor of their home under water. She said they opened their front and backdoors and let the water flow. The scariest moment came when she found her daughters splashing and playing in the water. She pointed out the dead fish and said, "Those fish didn't die because they couldn't swim!"

She told me her daughters thought the hurricane was great fun. They wanted to stay in New Orleans. "They're too young to understand exactly what's going on," she said. "They are having a great time right now and that makes it easier on us. It just hasn't really sunk in what's going on." 

She said that had the floodwaters not hit their home, they still would have left because of the problem with sewage. "Honeydipping is not cool," she said. For those who don't know (I didn't...I had to ask), a honeydipper is the person who cleans out the outhouse.

Next, they had to enroll their kids in school. A representative of Wake County Public Schools met with them and I said goodbye and left them to do their business.

I wandered back inside. Walking down a hallway, I noticed that the grief counselors were starting to get busy...far busier than they had been on Wednesday. I saw one of the more moving, non-verbal things...a counsellor was working with a lady in her 50s. I couldn't hear them, but I could see them through the glass. The lady in her 50s was crying and the counsellor was comforting her. Finally, the woman got up and left...and when she was gone, the counsellor broke down crying. After a little while, she pulled herself together, checked herself in the mirror and then opened the door to invite the next person in.

I wandered past the rec room that had been set up and recognized a couple of my coworkers manning the place. I said hello and we talked about what the folks might need in the days ahead. They mentioned that a couple of ladies had stopped by in hopes of doing a little knitting or crocheting. No one had any needles or yarn. I made a note to mention that to some people. They also needed a few ping pong balls. Okay, easy enough.

Next, I had to find Calvin Edwards. He was a musician in New Orleans who had lost his instrument. He was interested in finding a local music store. One of my co-workers was going to help him out. I couldn't find him...but outside of each "dorm" room was a large piece of paper. People would write messages on post-it notes and fix them on the paper. I left two numbers for Calvin and moved on to the next task.

Lots of calls were coming in from people looking to help. What were the big needs? Cash. Money money money. We had all the clothes and shoes we needed. But there were special needs that were coming up. For example, one man had found work on a construction crew and needed a hard-hat. The call didn't go unanswered very long. Blue Cross/Blue Shield called and announced  they were donating $69,000 in cash. Right on!

Also, I found out how they were going to sort out who had been to Wal-Mart and who hadn't....they weren't. Wal-Mart didn't care. They were handing out more $100 gift cards. Get on the bus and come on and get what you need. Big Lots was also kicking in gift cards and I saw a few people with Target bags, so apparently they were chipping in as well.

There was no need for diapers. They had a HUGE cache on hand. They also had toiletries for the folks staying there. However, there was still a bit of a need for makeup. One worker told me that a lady had enrolled her kids in school and was asked if she'd like to go over and meet with the principal. She shook her head no and after a little cajoling, admitted she was too embarrassed about the way she looked. She was assured that a) she looked fine and b) the principal would understand the circumstances, but the lady was still too embarrassed to go.

I kept seeing this guy walking around holding a notebook over his mouth. I couldn't figure out what he was doing until I ran into him on a back hallway. He had a mouth full of cotton and gauze. They had started the dental screenings.

"You had dental work today?" I asked. He nodded. "Cavity?"

He paused and then said, "Woo Canaw."

Ahhh...root canal.

"So, you're high as a mother****er right now, aren't you?"

He burst out laughing and said, "I'm floating right now. I hope this doesn't wear off."

Actually, what he said was, "Ahhh fow-en whaa naaah. Ahh hoh isss usn't wahhh ahhff." But you get the picture.

I mentioned meeting a man on Wednesday who had smuggled a tiny little dog into the facility in a suitcase. I saw him again and I shook his hand and asked how he was getting along. His name was Arthur Jones and he was doing just fine. He was going to stay with his brother in El Paso and was leaving soon for the airport. He was a little worried about what he was going to do with his dog on the plane, though. Arthur was wondering if maybe he could get a ride on one of the buses to Wal-Mart and get a pet carrier.

I told him to follow me and we went out the back. I knew the last bus to Wal-Mart had already left, but I was hoping the SPCA would be able to help. If they couldn't, I was ready to drive him myself over to Wal-Mart and buy him a pet carrier. Fortunately, I didn't need to. Several people had donated pet supplies and they had a carrier that would work for him. In fact, they took his dog (Tippy) and gave him a bath, got him a couple of little plush chew toys, a blanket and then got him settled in the carrier.

When we got back inside, Arthur asked me if there was any way I could get the name of the lady who had helped him. Once he got back on his feet, he was going to send them a check for what they had done. I went back and mentioned it to them and they were rather blown away. They insisted that they didn't want the money, but I told them he didn't want to be a charity case. They finally agreed and gave me an address. I mentioned to Arthur that he didn't need to reimburse them, but he insisted that he wanted to do it.

If anyone was looking for a charity to give to, the SPCA was able to take care of these people's animals because of the kindness of others...so that might be one way to help. They are also going to be doing a lot of work trying to rescue and clean up the animals still alive and on their own in New Orleans.

Next, there was a job fair. A couple of reporters wanted to do a story on it, so I escorted them to the cafeteria. The RBC Center was interviewing and taking applications for people for work. They were small jobs, but it was a start. And, the arena was right across from the evacuation center and with hockey season getting ready to start, they needed people. A young man with long dreadlocks applied and they told him they could probably use his help in the parking lots. He got really animated and was telling everyone he ran across that he had gotten a job at the arena. Finally, the man who had hired him had to ask him to calm down a little bit. The guy responded, "This is the first job I've ever had." Later in the day, I saw a woman burst into tears. When she was asked what was wrong, she replied, "I've never had anyone be nice to me before."

It was the end of my shift and I needed to check back in with the PIO office before I left. As I was leaving the cafeteria, I saw a woman staring at a sign and heard her say, "What in the world is that?" The sign said that a local church was having a pig picking on Saturday and for interested folks to sign up.  I asked her if she knew what a pig picking was and she said no. You cook a whole, dressed pig for about...oh...12 hours and then you carve off what you want and eat it.

Do you eat ham? Do you like pork?

Oh yes.

Then you'll love it.

She gave me the slightest of smiles and with a hopeful voice she asked, "Can you eat the feet?"

You probably could, I laughed...but why would you?

"Baby, you know better than that. You know we eat pig's feet."

Yeah, but you got the WHOLE pig sitting right in front of you. Why would you start with the feet?? I made her promise me that she'd at least get her fill of the good stuff before resorting to eating knuckles and hooves.

Comments

[SaraS]

Thanks for posting this (and the previous installment). What an amazing story.