Below are the 5 most recent journal entries recorded in givingshelters' LiveJournal:

Friday, September 10th, 2010
5:37 pm	You are almost certainly looking for our community givingshelter. (12 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 19th, 2005
1:42 pm	New Orleans Here We Come A long but very good day. Chris and I went back to the tent school to do the final staking (although the shelter is on grass, it is really hard and needed rebar. Broke the large sledge the first day). We didn't have the orange rebar covers so I was looking for empty water bottles. I asked Elke, who said they were thrown away every day. A young boy, Truong, tapped my elbow and said he knew where some were because he saw Mr. Albert collecting them in a bag. He led me to a trash can, pointed out a black trash bag and, sure enough, it was full of empty water bottles. You rock, Truong. We left to the sound of the children singing "heads, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes ..." a small flash of normalcy in the midst of life so very not normal. Chris and I stopped by Southern Pipe and Supply in Waveland. We were looking for pipe to complete the last few structures. We met Howie, the owner of the store. In all of Waveland, the only businesses open are a hardware store, an electrical store and Southern Pipe and Supply. Howie is wonderful and although he had only a few hundred feet of pipe, vowed he would get the additional 3,000 feet from their central warehouse come hell or high water. Another new member arrived this morning, Loren West. Another trooper, he also arrived on a red eye and jumped right in. We packaged three units to take to the new Rainbow Gathering cafe in New Orleans. Allegra, Sam, Brooke, Loren, Virginia, Adrian and I set out. Chris stayed behind to pick up our last team member, Terri, who was getting in later that afternoon. The directions seemed a bit odd, take the 10 to the 11, and we could see the 11 which runs parallel to the 10 then branches off diagonally below Lake Pontchartrain. We ended up not having to worry about it, as the transition to the 11 was closed. The 10 over Lake Pontchartrain was destroyed on the North Side in many places, but the other side was sound (we hoped), just 1 lane of traffic in each direction. We pulled off the interstate at Bayou Sauvage to check maps and call our contact for new directions. A single, very narrow lane that obviously had been completely covered by the Bayou not too many weeks before, and the Bayou was only begrudgingly giving up ground. We eeked by in a few places, collectively holding our breath. Turns out the exit to the park where they are set up is right off the 10, so we were in the right place. We took the same path as Jordan described in his earlier post. No power, no street lights, abandoned refrigerators in front over every house, waiting for hazmat disposal. I wasn't sure how I was going to feel going into New Orleans for the first time, and I hadn't really considered it, as I didn't expect to leave Mississippi. I was driving, and as we drove down Elysian Fields, through apparently abandoned houses, not a soul in sight, even though it was early afternoon, I was overwhelmed. It is so hard to imagine what Waveland and the surrounding towns looked like before Katrina, because we hadn't been there. To be able to compare the "before and after" makes it even more visceral. We parked and made contact with the representative of the group and decided to drive the vehicles into the park. The jeep was safely inside and I turned the van around quickly to follow, going the wrong way down a one way street (just a short ways, honest). I had no sooner turned around than a New Orleans police cruise turned the corner. I quickly parked, perhaps hoping they wouldn't see the large maroon van parked the wrong way? and they pulled up to the park. Since they were right in front of where I needed to go, I got out to see what was going on. They asked a few questions about the operation, and seemed satisfied when told the proper permits had been obtained. In the meantime, there was a problem with a local, who apparently caused many problems when he was not quite sober. The police were going to intervene but were waved off by another resident who helps in the work at the park, who in any other situation probably would have been viewed as a disturbance. He did an admirable job calming the other gentlemen down and sending him on his way. The police said to let them know if we needed anything and left me free to continue my reverse directional course. We deployed 3 shelters that will be used as the medical tent (which they were operating out of a regular Coleman type tent), kitchen and storage facility and storage for clothing. A few volunteers there helped us and they quickly caught on. The need in the immediate area is not apparent, and according to the police some neighbors had complained, but the surrounding area definitely needs support. We later heard on the radio that the operation might be shut down, according to the Mayor. It may be the neighbors or pressure because an historical park is used, but when compared to the needs of the neighborhood, those seem petty. What an amazing contradiction between New Orleans and Waveland. The entire community in Waveland has embraced the New Waveland Cafe and it is becoming a community center. New Orleans, perhaps because publicly admitting the need is still so great will discourage tourists, wants to eliminate what could become a vibrant, loving, healing heart in the community. Let's hope the news rumors are wrong. Home late, Chris and Terri had already gone to bed. We showered (the shower trailer and the wonderful men who staff it are gift from the gods) and returned to Allegra making carrot soup. Heaven in a bowl. Went to sleep to the lullaby of the refrigerator trucks and the dock behind camp. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, October 18th, 2005
1:06 pm	Two More Members Arrive Two new members today, Virginia and Adrian. Yes, they're from Seattle (most of you don't know, but I'm from Los Angeles. The sole Southern California member and much pitied by all the Pacific Northwesterners)not Burners but definitely Burners at heart. And great heart at that--although they arrived on a red eye flight, they jumped in on their first deployment We did just one deployment today at a tent school in Bay St. Louis. The Bay St. Louis school district has been decimated. Not a single elementary school is usable. Jen, a teacher from New York, and Elke, a local teacher who rode out the hurricane with her husband and 2 dogs, because they could not get to their house for the dogs and still evacuate in time, picked us up at Stennis. Elke is from Honduras and has now been through Andrew and Katrina. Sweet and calm, she described the state of the schools. The school district is projecting to open on November 1, but it is unclear just where they are planning on setting up shop. The tent school is on the grounds of the sports complex, and as we drove in, we saw the high school football team practicing. As surreal as it initially seemed, we realized that for children, more so than adults, engaging in normal activities is essential in beginning the healing process. The school is the work of a private foundation. Jen and a group of graduate education students who are from Washington, DC, are running it. Thus far they have 50 children enrolled. Our shelter will be the library and fun room. THey were so excited by the structure. The children are reading "The Phantom Toll Booth" and will decorate the shelter with pictures and drawings from the book. We're hoping to go back and see; if we do, we'll share those pictures, as they are sure to be delightful. Adrian took many pictures, including a series of the shelter being erected, which we hope to put together as a visual instruction manual. Evenings at the New Waveland Cafe are a respite from the constant sensory bombardment of the day, without the isolation I often feel at Stennis. Volunteers and residents sitting side by side, getting to know each other, in a bohemian environment quite unlike anything I ever would have expected to experience. (Comment on this)
Monday, October 17th, 2005
11:53 am	The Mantle is Passed Jordan is a tough act to follow as a blogger, but I'll see what I can do to bring you up to date. Days have been long, and the computer is busy in the evening, so I apologize for the delay. I'm doing this during quiet computer time, while 2 teams are out on deployment, so we'll post the text now and will update with pictures from Adrian, the master photographer, this evening (we hope, if Loren the computer wizard has the right cord)and then I can join them. I'll break this down by day, even though I'm writing all of this on Saturday, the 22nd. It wasn't just the blogger mantle that was passed. As Jordan mentioned in his last post, six members of our team left on Tuesday. I was the "transition" member, so to speak, having arriving Sunday early evening. After a briefing by Thomas on the way in from the airport, my first official act with the group was to have dinner at the catering truck on base. On Monday, the outgoing team taught me the ropes, and I was very glad to have arrived before they left, and sad that I missed being with them during the last few weeks! On the 17th, I was on the other team, so I can fill in for Jordan. Dan, Mac, Thomas and I first went to Violet Sievert's property in Waveland. Her home was not only destroyed, but the house is no where in sight, just a few belongings piled next to where it once stood. She watches her two grandchildren at night while her daughter works, so the shelter will be well used. She watched us put up the shelter, which did not go nearly as fast as Jordan's crew reports, as the guys were teaching me the ropes. I've put up many domes at Burning Man, and was amazed at how beautifully these shelters go together. When a team is working together, there is a dance between partners, and while the shelter doesn't go up on its own, it seems awfully close. Violet and I hugged when we were done, tears in both of our eyes. Our second shelter was for Vic and Tami Guthreaux, in Lakeshore. Dog heaven, they had at least four dogs, only one of which was secured. One was particularly authoritative, although we were assured she was just noisy and annoying. What was once their home is now the outside frame and a foundation, with the ubiquitous blue roof, and a few piles of possessions, all of which they had taken with them. Tami told us that not a stick of furniture, or even a splinter of a piece of furniture was anywhere to be found. "It all just disappeared." A boat was marooned in their neighbor's yard. 6 people living in a tent. Vic was very interested in the process and helped up erect the shelter. A quiet man, he told us that before Katrina he didn't know any of his neighbors. Since then, he has met all of those who have returned and has been working with neighbors to distribute supplies. We hope to visit him again and drop off tools and supplies before we leave. Just before the shelter was finished, the authoritarian canine decided she had had enough of Mac, and gave him a bite to remember her, and Katrina, by. We cleaned it up and went to the Waveland Cafe and Medical Clinic. There a wonderful Stanford medical student meticulously cleaned and bandaged it (you can tell she's never had children, Mac and I decided we'd have had it cleaned and bandaged and have lunch eaten by the time she started applying the clear bandage in the perfect position.) It looked much better the next morning, and those of us here hope all is well. Ask Mac if he took the antibiotics the doctor gave him! On the way to the New Waveland Cafe, we drove down by the beach in Waveland. The devastation in Bay St. Louis and Waveland is mind numbing. 7 weeks after the hurricane, the major roads are cleared and much clearing is being done at businesses and residences. So where there was debris sprawled everywhere, now we also see endless heaping piles of debris along the road, along with in front of businesses that are struggling to reopen (we hope) and in virtually every neighborhood we see. From the beach, were 100 year old Antebellum homes once stood, there are only foundations, cars speared on fences as though caught in the downward arc of an Evil Kinevel type stunt and items that were once someone's prized possessions (or even just a handy gadget to have in the kitchen) hanging from trees as if Katrina was hanging up her laundry before leaving town. wwwfemaforgotwaveland.com on red signs posted in front of empty lots, collapsed homes, overturned school buses expresses the prevailing sentiment of us all. What makes the government's failure even more striking is the comparison to to the outpouring of assistance from "ordinary" people. We've met many of the thousands of volunteers who left their homes, commitments and comforts to help in whatever way they can. Some through official organizations and churches, others through grass roots efforts and so many who just came, showed up, found where there was need (you don't need to look very hard-it assails you at every turn) and are just digging and and doing it. Our third shelter was for Jan Rabe, who lives in Pearlington. Her house has completely disappeared, just cement steps leading to the foundation. Her two dogs were in her tent (I could hear Mac's sigh of relief) letting us know they were watching us, until the Bobcat running next door would drive them under the cot. Jan is very involved with the Pearlington community and the recovery effort and filled us in while we were erecting the shelter. Most of the houses immediately surrounding her were still standing, but Katrina had picked them up and moved them elsewhere on the block, like those red houses on a Monopoly board. She told us that the house that was across and just a little down the road had been picked up and moved down the block, in front of a neighbor's house. They joked it was so the owner could get closer to her boyfriend, without his wife being suspicious! Although there surely are sociological and psychological studies on our individual and group responses to disasters or tragedies that explain it, I have been constantly amazed at the good humor, positive attitude, dignity and affection of the people we've met. I said to Mac and Thomas that I didn't think I could imagine what the devastation would be like, and one asked why not, you must have imagined it would be awful. Yes, you can imagine what it's going to look like, but you cannot possibly imagine how it is going to make you feel. We erected Jan's structure with the sound of the Bobcat a continuous growl. A fellow, probably in his early 60's, came in from out of state with the Bobcat and started clearing lots. Jan said he puts in 12 hours a day, every day. Another of the many anonymous volunteers that are making a small, but important difference in someone's lives. He was clearing the lot next door to Jan. The house was also completely gone, a few battered items and a china cabinet, with doors still attached, standing in the midst. Was it theirs or deposited by Katrina on her way through? A good day. I heard the stories of New Orleans from Jordan, Dan and Jake. My daughter lives in New Orleans, a student at Tulane, and we have many friends who have lost everything there. I wondered how I would feel about returning to the City we love so much, if I had been with them. Little did I know I would find out a few days later. (Comment on this)
Thursday, October 13th, 2005
11:59 pm	Jordan's Impressions I'm Jordan, a new volunteer from Seattle down here with World Shelters.  I arrived off a red-eye into the Biloxi yesterday morning, and, despite having read the news and talked to several of my friends who were on the previous deployments with World Shelters, I was taken off guard by the degree of devastation. I'll tell you about it, you'll see the pictures, but it's difficult to comprehend. Now that I've begun to digest it, I'm forgetting that their lives weren't always shattered.  There, but for the grace etc... I had somehow thought the destruction was relegated to the shoreline, but it goes far inland.  Half of the houses in Waveland are splintered, nothing left except piles of rubble on slabs of foundation, beds in trees, debris in an undifferentiated mass everywhere you look.  Most houses within 20 or 30 miles of the coast are damaged and barely livable.  The impact of this is difficult to imagine: the economy is gone, there are no stores, no restaurants, businesses are plywooded storefronts with muddied fax and copy machines piled in front.       But in the face of it all, the people on the Gulf coast are determined to get to their feet.  Everywhere we go, there are PODs (Points of Distribution), sets of giant tents filled with shelves and boxes of food, diapers, soap, and other necessities. PODs are run by both locals and outside helpers.  Families come from all over and take what they need for free.  The PODs are both bottoms-up and top-down creations. For example, a bunch of people from the Rainbow Gathering (what, until this week, I would have called the most flaky, hippy-dippy group in the world) set up shop in a parking lot of a destroyed food store. (In an amazing demonstration of prescience, they packed up their busses and started down when Katrina was still just looming and were the first food distribution site in Hancock County. FEMA followed some days later.)  They popped up some tents, set up a kitchen, painted a "New Waveland Cafe" sign (after the town of Waveland where they set down) and started handing out food, three hots a day (all organic, at the beginning). Locals started coming, and the Seventh Day Adventists plopped down next to them and started heading out basic supplies like peanut butter, cheese, meat, vegetables, soap and clothes.  Other relief agencies and FEMA, seeing a functioning relief center already in operation, started dropping off additional supplies for the kitchen and POD.   We had lunch and dinner there last night (both delicious, full meals including salad, meat, a vegetarian option, bread, dessert, and drinks).  During lunch, the Rainbow Family played albums over their PA system, leading to a slightly ironic, surreal moment of bunch of black and white, bayou-bred Mississippians gratefully eating meals provided by hippies while Neil Young's Southern Man played over the din of generators and buzz of flies: "I saw cotton and I saw black, tall white mansions and little shacks, Southern Man when will you pay them back?...Southern change gonna come at last..."  At dinner, they had a full band playing Van Morrisson, Rolling Stones and CCR tunes while dreadlocked Rainbows danced enthusiastically next to Mississippi senior citizens, suddenly homeless and momentarily carefree. All the time, new supplies are flowing in to these centers from donors big and small across the country.  How does it know where to go? Best I can tell, it's a mix of peer networks of people from different relief agencies talking to each other about what's available and a top down effort of the Emergency Operation Center (EOC) of Hancock County, who hold twice daily coordination meetings of all the relief agencies operating in the area.   My first day, I worked with two deployments from World Shelters. On the first, the whole crew of us set up a a 50' long shelter for the medical center, set up by the Rainbow Family and staffed by volunteer medical students, next to the New Waveland Cafe (incredibly difficult, as we had to drill through the pavement to sink the rebar stakes).  On the second, Mac, Todd and I set up a 25' shelter at a POD in a town called Pass Christian.  The people there were wonderful and grateful.  Operating the pod were a mix of locals and Scientologists.  Their plan was to keep the POD operating for at least a year. Guys in their early twenties were working shoulder to shoulder with women in their 60's, everybody with the same smiling determination I've encountered everywhere I've gone.    This attitude has been really remarkable. I talked to a woman today, for example, who giggled and chuckled through her account of weathering the hurricane in her house, shouldering her two cats and carrying her poodle on her head as the water rose.  "Whoo," she chuckled, "I had white caps in my living room! I had swim over to keep my refrigerator from floating out the front door. Twice! I got it though. I tell you, when my walls starting to shake from the wind, though, that's when I got scared."  Then, she reached out and gave me a big hug and told me you've got nothing to do but go on. And that's what I hear everywhere we go. You got no choice, you can't give up, so you just gotta go on. I know it sounds corny coming from me, off of some soft focus poster of a kitten hanging from a rope, but coming from that woman and the people running the Pass Christian POD, it's something different. You'll just have to take my word for it. Same day, Thomas, Sam, Jake and Mac set up a third shelter at the remains of a woman's house by the bayou.  The ground on her land was dried, caked and cracked mud, so they built a floor for her out of materials donated by the New Waveland folks while they were there.   Today, it was up with dawn, breakfast at FEMA-sponsored commissary here on the NASA base where we're camped out, and then off with Sam, Dan, and Todd to build a shelter for woman in Bayside Park. There were eight people living in a tarp strung over their back porch (their house itself had been declared unsafe due to water damage and mold).  Two of the men there had tried to weather the storm in the house itself, but when the water rose "to their necks", they swam down to the store at the end of their street and made it to the roof.  The next day, they said, they returned, opened the bobbing refrigerator, cracked open a bottle of wine that was there and got drunk.  The day after that, when the water receded to the point where they could walk, they started cleaning up. We set up a 25' shelter in their backyard, that's a picture of Lennie and the crew next to it.  One of the women living there has a high-risk pregnancy, so I feel better knowing she's got room to lie down close to her family. After lunch at the New Waveland (where I peeked in to see our shelter now fully stocked with medical supplies and patient exam tables, we headed over to the (remains of) a house belonging to a woman named Tamika.  She was living at her boyfriend's house with her kids and had begun the process of gutting her house in preparation for rebuilding it.  Throughout her neighborhood, men and women slowly but methodically carried debris out of their shells of houses, clearing the way for a rebirth.   We stopped to help the other deployment set up a shelter at a house in Bay St. Louis, but we decided it wasn't appropriate.  An older man was living in the house with his dogs and hadn't let FEMA in to inspect.  We could see pools of water still on his floor, and he was refusing to leave.  He needed more than we could offer, and the relatives who were looking after him thanked us but encouraged us to take the shelter to someone who would use it more appropriately.  We made sure they knew how to reach the appropriate service agencies and headed back to base, where we worked until dark cutting and clipping parts for the shelters we'll raise tomorrow.  A number of the existing shelter tarps needed to be retrofitted with mesh vents to allow for better airflow, and then the whole crew hunkered down for "clipping circle, gathered around a pile of tarps attaching the plastic fittings we use to tie the tarp to the PVC exoskeleton. Showers in a truck, then to bed. (2 Comments |Comment on this)