This page uses Cascading Style Sheet technology to present the content in the best possible manner. If you can see this message, then CSS (or JavaScript) is not enabled in your browser, and the page will not appear as the designer intended.
Download the latest Internet Explorer here.
Download the latest Netscape Navigator here.
Webhosting provided by Baystatehost.
Society of Rockport
When Bob Beattie and I were in New Orleans two weeks ago, we tutored some great kids, 4th and 5th graders at Sarah T. Reed Elementary School in the 9th Ward. Reed School currently meets in the RE wing of a Baptist church and, like the rest of the struggling New Orleans school system, needs all the help they can get. At the end of the day, I looked around at the sparsely-stocked shelves in the school "library" and asked Danielle Vappie, the remedial teacher who was directing us, if Reed School could use some books. Danielle laughed in a weary sort of way and said, "What do you think?"
What I thought was, "Here's a way that UUSR and our friends can make a worthy contribution toward rebuilding New Orleans."
Thus, UUSR's Books to Reed Project.
Before the start of the new school year in September, we want to send to New Orleans a substantial library of new and gently-used children's books, suitable for grades 1 - 6. Books that might be especially suitable for the children in that area, such as books with black characters or books about dealing with loss are particularly wanted. So, if you have children's books collecting dust, know where to get books for free, or feel moved to buy your beloved favorites and any and all contributions (cash, too) are welcome.
You may bring your children's books to the church. You may also call me (978-283-9107) or email me and I'll arrange to pick them up. You may also contact Terri Desmarais or Susan Beattie.
Rebuilding the public schools is an essential step toward rebuilding New Orleans -- families cannot come back to re-populate the city until there is a functional school system. Sadly, government help is agonizingly slow in coming -- or not even on the horizon -- and much depends on volunteer efforts like ours. Before the end of the summer, we hope to have a mountain of books to send to Reed School, and I hope that you will become a part of Books to Reed.
Best, Rev. Kathy
Bob Beattie and I recently returned from a service trip with Gulf Coast Volunteers for the Long Haul. In New Orleans and in Pearlington, Mississippi, we worked in a church and in a home, hanging sheetrock and painting; we tutored children and built a playground. As important as these tangible contributions are to helping rebuild the Gulf Coast, in my mind it was just as important that we had the chance to meet residents, survivors of Katrina, who told us their stories.
If you're a visitor, finding your way around the devastated parts of New Orleans puts your patience and ingenuity to the test. Many, many street signs are turned around or just gone. If you're lucky, you might spot a hand-painted street name on a building or on the sidewalk, but many intersections are entirely unmarked. It's very easy for the stranger to get lost. This is a city where garbage pick-up and sporadic mail delivery have only somewhat recently been restored -- the first returning garbage men and mail carriers were greeted with cheers and hugs. Thousands of people still live in cramped FEMA trailers, the rudimentary school system is scrambling to get back on its feet, and medical, mental health, and childcare services are only minimally available. So, niceties like street signs are pretty far down on the list of priorities, and visiting volunteers just have to do the best they can.
One day when our crew was driving in circles, trying to find the house in the Upper 9th Ward where we'd be working, I thought about something that had happened the day before.
I had been in Pearlington, MS with Ms. Vanessa, on our way back from buying paint for her house, thanks to UUSR's generosity. (By the way, last names were another nicety that fell by the wayside. I spent a lot of time with this woman and never learned her last name. If I hadn't given her my business card she wouldn't know my last name, either.) In the car, Vanessa said, "Turn up here, where the big blue ...," and she stopped, tears welling up in her eyes. She composed herself and told me that it was force of habit, that she was so used to saying, "Turn at the big blue building," and the big blue building that wasn't there any more, the big blue landmark that had been washed away in the flood 21 months ago.
Another piece of this tragedy fell into place for me: It isn't only homes and churches, schools and playgrounds that need rebuilding along the Gulf Coast. People's inner landscapes need rebuilding, too and their sense of safety and security, their trust in what's familiar and dependable. So many residents of the Gulf Coast feel something like lost in their own lives and they're finding their way back with few road signs other than their faith to guide them.
All week I listened to stories: The story about climbing up into the church rafters to escape the rising water. The story about Grandma hurting her leg in the storm and her kin miraculously finding a wheelchair for her, and then somehow hoisting Grandma in the wheelchair over fallen trees to get her to higher ground. The story about how the rumor spread that almost everyone in Pearlington had died in the flood, and how unspeakable grief was replaced with boundless joy when it turned out the rumor wasn't true.
As I listened, time after time I heard people tell these stories with something like original energy, as if they hadn't told their stories dozens of times before. There was nothing rehearsed, nothing stale in the storytelling. Sister Maura, one of Long Haul's contacts in New Orleans, told me that people there love to meet volunteers who have come to help because they bring fresh ears and a new opportunity for storytelling.
We can never truly enter into someone else's pain, but as I listened, I got a glimpse of the depth of the trauma that these folks had endured, a trauma that they are still processing, still trying to make sense of, still trying to find their way around in.
At the same time, the people I met spoke of their endless gratitude and gratitude for us and all the volunteers from across the country who have come to help, and gratitude for God's help and blessings. The two expressions I heard most often that week were "Thank you" and "Praise God."
Since I've come back, I'm seeing all my familiar landmarks with new and grateful eyes.
Blessings, Kathy